Dounglomchan: Happy with what we made of Cannon

For my last weekend in Clovis, my friends and I met up at Kelley's Bar. When we walked in, a four man cover band was performing on stage, playing classic Eagles hits and country songs. Their harmonies were tight, their musicianship good.

link Kitsana Dounglomchan

A waitress came by and took our drink order. I hardly imbibe anymore, but tonight was going to be one of those nights, I told myself.

We started with beer, but switched to Long Island Ice Tea. My memory gets a little hazy after that, but I felt good. Just enough for a buzz, but not enough to go streaking.

I looked around the table at my friends and grew nostalgic, remembering back to the good times we had together.

Two of my best friends, Brandon and Adam, flanked me on both sides. We chewed the fat and talked about the experiences we'd had, taking hiking trips to Palo Duro Canyon or playing disc golf in Lubbock.

My old boss and one of my co-workers, Joshua and Adolfo, said they wanted more drinks. Adolfo flagged down the waitress and ordered shots of tequila, or as I like to call it "to-kill-ya."

Great guys, Joshua and Adolfo. Joshua was the type of boss who trusted and empowered me and Adolfo, giving us the autonomy to do our job. And we never let him down.

The band continued playing until their time came to an end. A DJ then put on a mix of country and rap songs, alternating between the two.

This enlivened the growing crowd, and the clientele became younger. People flocked towards the dance floor. You had cowboy hats for one song and flat brimmed hats for the next one.

We had a few more drinks, but the clock eventually struck midnight. And like Cinderella leaving the ball, I had to say goodbye. We paid our tabs and walked to the parking lot, where we shook hands and said farewell.

My wife, who'd wisely nursed a glass of wine the entire night, took the keys from me and drove us home. My one constant partner throughout everything is Cassandra. And without her, this military life would be a lot harder.

This is what being stationed at a base is like for most people. We do our jobs, make friends, and create memories with them. And just when things start getting good, we receive orders and have to start anew at our next base.

But this is the life we chose.

For my first column, I wrote that a base is all what you make of it. This is a tough message to hear at times, but the saying is true.

You can choose to be miserable or you can choose to make the best of things. I'm glad to be leaving Clovis with a strong marriage, some good experiences, and a few more friends.

It really is all what you make of it, and I'm happy with what we made.

Kitsana Dounglomchan, a 12-year Air Force veteran, writes about his life and times for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at:

[email protected]