"In whatever arena of life one may meet the challenge of courage, whatever may
be the sacrifice he faces, if he follows his conscience – the loss of his friends, his
fortune, his contentment, even the esteem of his fellow men – each man must
decide for himself the course he will follow. Without belittling the courage with
which men have died, we should not forget those acts of courage with which
men have lived."
-- John F. Kennedy
be the sacrifice he faces, if he follows his conscience – the loss of his friends, his
fortune, his contentment, even the esteem of his fellow men – each man must
decide for himself the course he will follow. Without belittling the courage with
which men have died, we should not forget those acts of courage with which
men have lived."
-- John F. Kennedy
About Me
Writing an autobiographical blurb puts me eerily
in mind of being somewhere between nine and
twelve years of age, in September, confronted with
the perennial “What I Did This Summer” essay.
Although I am seldom at a loss for words, this sort
of thing tends to intimidate me more than just
about anything else…initially, anyway. After that,
it works just like it does with toddlers: Parents
can’t wait for the child to start talking…and then
they find themselves wishing the kid would shut
up once in awhile!
At some point during graduate school (1986-1989), one of my professors assigned a self-
introduction paper. The title of mine, “Enigma At Large,” still seems like an appropriate
description of myself. I don’t fit easily in a box, literally or figuratively. For what seems
my entire life so far, I have been interested in too many things to be able to juggle them
all. This can make career selection difficult, which is perhaps at least a part of the reason
that writers – who, as a subset of society, tend to be interested in many things – often
have what is politely termed “a diverse background.”
As a number of people have heard me say, I spent 20 years in the Army and have the
lower-body joint dysfunction to prove it. When I went to Basic Training, the Women’s
Army Corps had not yet been decommissioned. Our branch insignia was referred to as
the “Pallas Athena,” it being a profile image of the face of Athena, the Greek goddess of
war. What I first went to war against was chaos in the sky: I became an air traffic
controller.
After nearly three years as an Army air traffic controller, I spent two more years in the
same capacity as a civilian. That ended with the Professional Air Traffic Controllers’
Organization strike in August of 1981 – what some of us today still call “World War
PATCO” – when then-President Reagan (a former president of another labor union, the
Screen Actors’ Guild) fired some 12,000 people. We were deemed ineligible for
unemployment compensation; many of us filed for bankruptcy as a result. Much of what
went on outside the scrutiny of the media at the time is still pregnant with the sort of
complex subtleties that irk those who lived them and bore those who did not...and
contributed to why I did not get on another airplane for more than 10 years.
The Army was what first brought me to North Carolina. From the moment I set foot on
the ground here, it seemed more like home than the state where I grew up – Michigan –
ever had. Circumstances took me away; the Army brought me back, as a full-time
Reserve non commissioned officer, after two years in Georgia. At the end of my active
duty tour, I transferred into a reception battalion, from which I transitioned into the
Retired Reserve to await my 60th birthday.
Both of my parents were born nearly 100 years ago. They were young adults during the
Depression, and most of my uncles on both sides served in World War II. While my
childhood was not always pleasant, some of the things I gained from my family of origin
are beyond price: The determination to do what it takes to survive, even during the times
when every day is a struggle; the tenacity to cope with physical, mental, and emotional
pain in those survival efforts; an appreciation of personal integrity and accountability for
one’s actions; and, the certainty that nobody owes me anything just because I convert
oxygen to carbon dioxide. These things have helped to shape who I am. My experiences
are a part of who I am, as well…and who I am is why I write.
Writing an autobiographical blurb puts me eerily
in mind of being somewhere between nine and
twelve years of age, in September, confronted with
the perennial “What I Did This Summer” essay.
Although I am seldom at a loss for words, this sort
of thing tends to intimidate me more than just
about anything else…initially, anyway. After that,
it works just like it does with toddlers: Parents
can’t wait for the child to start talking…and then
they find themselves wishing the kid would shut
up once in awhile!
At some point during graduate school (1986-1989), one of my professors assigned a self-
introduction paper. The title of mine, “Enigma At Large,” still seems like an appropriate
description of myself. I don’t fit easily in a box, literally or figuratively. For what seems
my entire life so far, I have been interested in too many things to be able to juggle them
all. This can make career selection difficult, which is perhaps at least a part of the reason
that writers – who, as a subset of society, tend to be interested in many things – often
have what is politely termed “a diverse background.”
As a number of people have heard me say, I spent 20 years in the Army and have the
lower-body joint dysfunction to prove it. When I went to Basic Training, the Women’s
Army Corps had not yet been decommissioned. Our branch insignia was referred to as
the “Pallas Athena,” it being a profile image of the face of Athena, the Greek goddess of
war. What I first went to war against was chaos in the sky: I became an air traffic
controller.
After nearly three years as an Army air traffic controller, I spent two more years in the
same capacity as a civilian. That ended with the Professional Air Traffic Controllers’
Organization strike in August of 1981 – what some of us today still call “World War
PATCO” – when then-President Reagan (a former president of another labor union, the
Screen Actors’ Guild) fired some 12,000 people. We were deemed ineligible for
unemployment compensation; many of us filed for bankruptcy as a result. Much of what
went on outside the scrutiny of the media at the time is still pregnant with the sort of
complex subtleties that irk those who lived them and bore those who did not...and
contributed to why I did not get on another airplane for more than 10 years.
The Army was what first brought me to North Carolina. From the moment I set foot on
the ground here, it seemed more like home than the state where I grew up – Michigan –
ever had. Circumstances took me away; the Army brought me back, as a full-time
Reserve non commissioned officer, after two years in Georgia. At the end of my active
duty tour, I transferred into a reception battalion, from which I transitioned into the
Retired Reserve to await my 60th birthday.
Both of my parents were born nearly 100 years ago. They were young adults during the
Depression, and most of my uncles on both sides served in World War II. While my
childhood was not always pleasant, some of the things I gained from my family of origin
are beyond price: The determination to do what it takes to survive, even during the times
when every day is a struggle; the tenacity to cope with physical, mental, and emotional
pain in those survival efforts; an appreciation of personal integrity and accountability for
one’s actions; and, the certainty that nobody owes me anything just because I convert
oxygen to carbon dioxide. These things have helped to shape who I am. My experiences
are a part of who I am, as well…and who I am is why I write.
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The Cyber-Terrain of Dara Lyon Warner
The Cyber-Terrain of Dara Lyon Warner