Learning to Ride

 I learned to ride a bike when I was in kindergarten, or right after. I think I got the bike for Christmas that year. That was the first time it sunk in that the big unwrapped presents came from Santa. We did that with our kids, and I think it always sticks out: Santa brings the BEST presents!

We were living back at George Air Force Base, on Irving Place. It was a cul de sac in the base housing area. Low brick duplexes, and I don’t think anyone had a garage or car port, because people parked along the street.

Learning to ride was not easy. I rode with the training wheels for awhile, and felt very comfortable, and then stymied. Big kids didn’t ride with training wheels. I remember Dad taking them off one day in the cul de sac, and doing the whole running along side while I tried to find my balance. It was a disaster. Ran right into someone’s car.

Try again. Up, riding, crashing. Another car.

Maybe not a good idea on the street. In the back of the house was a big strip of wide desert between rows of houses. There was a dirt road along there that the trash trucks came and emptied the big metal pick-up dumpsters behind each duplex. Every so often was some playground equipment.

So I went back there and gave things a try. Same thing over and over again. Up! Riding! Crash into the dumpster. It was as if I was magnetically drawn to them! Dad couldn’t believe how I could not seem to miss them.

But I was determined. I picked myself up, got back on, got going… peddled wobbly down till I got close to the next one… and promptly ran right into it.

Eventually I got the hang of it, but it was definitely a rough start. And the guy down the street, who’s little MG I ran into - not my biggest fan for quite awhile.

1965. Kindergarten

First Grade.

Third Grade.

That first big trip

 My first big trip had to be going from George Air Force Base, in Victorville, California, where I was born, to my Dad’s next assignment at RAF Bentwaters, near Suffolk, England. It happened probably 6-9 months after I was born, so I naturally have no recollection of it. Thinking back on it, however, and considering the transportation of the day… it had to be a pretty major undertaking.

My mother had grown up in Texas, then Washington, and then back to Texas, so she had undertaken some long trips in her day, but the ones to come must have seemed incredibly daunting. After meeting my Dad at a dance in Texas, he had called or written and convinced her to get on a bus, meet him in Las Vegas and get married. Then move on with him to California, where I showed up. A year or so later, they were off to England!  Me too!

I don’t remember anyone saying we stopped along the way, so we probably flew from Los Angeles to the East Coast, then caught a plane from New York to London. I know years later when we moved to Wheelus AFB, in Libya, we flew from California to Minneapolis, visited relatives, then flew to New Jersey, stayed at McGuire AFB for two weeks while the girls healed from ear infections, then flew out of JFK, stopped in the Azores, then Tunisia, then into Tripoli. I suspect we probably stopped for gas in St. Johns or Gandar back in 1960/61, but I’m not sure.

The first big trips I remember once we got back in the US were trips to Washington to see relatives, or from Washington to Minneasota to see Grandma Branby (Grampa Branby had died before I was born.) The trip from Washington to Minneapolis was really memorable for a couple things… Staring off the side of a steep highway down sheer cliffs as we traversed Montana somewhere, and while staying at the Miller’s house, we got to watch a real tornado make its way toward us. We all just sat out on the front porch watching a NO-KIDDING funnel cloud move closer and closer until Aunt Wanda would have no more of it, and we were shooed into the basement. It was pretty epic for a 6- or 7-year-old.

Religious life

 I suspect my introduction to religion growing up was much like everyone else growing up in the midwest. Only we didn’t live in the midwest. But our parents were from that background, and both had spent a healthy part of their early lives going to church and Sunday School as part of Protestant faiths.

My Mom was from Texas and the Church of Christ. Seemed pretty generic to me, but it was probably something less evangelical than the Baptists. I don’t remember any firey sermons growing up if we ever went to one of those churches off base.

My Dad grew up Lutheran. So we became Lutheran, probably because Mom was not tied to “The Church of Christ” in any strong sense. But I don’t ever remember going to to a Lutheran Church growing up, mainly because we lived on base almost the entire time, or overseas, where we attended very non-denominational Protestant Chapel services on base, wherever we lived. So Lutheran was just a term for our mythic Norwegian roots.

The bases had three flavors of religious services that I knew about: Protestant, Catholic or Jewish. There may have been more, but they were so obscure, I never saw in overt sign of them. Protestant and Catholic services shared the same Chapel area, so they followed each other in time. The Catholics would get in early and late, the Protestants in the middle, with Sunday school during the Catholic Services. The Catholic kids went to Catechism on Monday or Tuesday afternoons… which was mind blowing to me… what madness was that??

In HS, we lived in Litchfield Park, AZ, a planned community west of Phoenix and south of Luke AFB. It had a community Protestant Church that we attended, and I went to Confirmation classes in Junior and Senior HS. I eventually was confirmed, probably my Junior year. Not sure if any of the other kids were.

In college, the Air Force Academy Chapel is/was amazing! Just a spectacular piece of architecture, and during basic training, was a literal God-send for taking 30 minutes out of your crazy day to just decompress in the silence, listening to the aluminum walls expand and pop in the afternoon heat.

When I started dating Laura, we would take a few turns going to each other’s Churches, and after we were married, it switched primarily to the Catholic Church. I enjoyed it. The Catholic faith seemed to have a structure to it that was very similar to my exposure to Lutheranism.

When we got married, we had to meet with Fr. Bergman, the Priest at Zelienople’s St. Gregory Catholic Church, were we were to be married.  He was quite a hoot. He was adamant that I promised to raise our kids Catholic. I had no problem with that, because the Catholic faith felt so close to the Lutheran and generic Protestant beliefs I had grown up with, only magnified. I expected any kids we did have would attend and be raised in OUR church, the one our family participated in together.

So we raised our kids in the local catholic Church, and when we moved to Zelienople, we eventually migrated to St. Ferdinand in Cranberry, because Laura determined their youth programs were robust, and more inviting and inclusive. Great decision as it turned out, and  was very beneficial to our family as I started deploying after 9/11.

I’m not sure what the exact catalyst was, but one day I decided that I since I was raising my kids Catholic, going to Church all the time anyway, I should bite the bullet and convert. So I dropped into the Rectory and asked about the process. Next thing I know, I’m enrolled in an Catechism class for adults: kind of like boot camp for Easter! I really enjoyed it, and had a good class full of varied backgrounds and ages. I think we went from September to Easter, culminating into being accepted into the Church at the Easter Vigil Mass. It was a great experience. I also believe Jill made her first Communion the same night I was Confirmed.

And that’s how the Bryan Branbys went from Lutheran Protestants to a Catholic family!

Its nothing personal, it’s politics

 I have pretty strong feelings about politics, but categorizing my overall political philosophy is hard. I would say I’m basically an independent, who, over the past 40 years, has grudgingly migrated from right of center to the left of center. I grew up with the ideal of Kennedy, Martin Luther King, the debacle of Watergate, the Cold War, CIA adventures in Central America, and Iran-Contra. I am basically a political junkie. I find it all fascinating, but I’m glad I’m not in that world.

As I write this, I am still a registered Republican… though I’ve pretty much decided I will never vote for another Republican candidate as long as I live. John McCain was my last vote, and I had reservations about that one (I finally applied to change voting affiliations, but it hasn’t come back yet).

Growing up in a military family, you hear and learn that the Republicans are the ones who are the most patriotic and care about the military the most, blah blah blah.

What I’ve found is the exact opposite. They speak the loudest, they beat their chests the loudest, but they don’t care anything about the military other than to get the Veteran vote. They’ll buy weapons for the military from the defense contractors who donate the most money to their campaigns, whether we need them or not. They don’t demand the best care (VA or Tri-Care) for the veterans they send to war, but they will cut the best deals with the big Health Insurance and Pharmaceutical companies they are in bed with.

I’ve also found they don’t care about taking care of the country we have to live in: don’t believe in climate change (even the military believes in climate change); they don’t support environmental issues like clean air, water and land; they use immigration as a Boogey Man, instead of figuring out how to make it work, knowing full well we are all the result of immigrants coming to this country to make a better life. AND… we need healthy immigration flow to fill all the open jobs in our economy.

They scream, “Capitalism!” but are the first to give tax cuts to the rich and hand-outs to farmers and businesses that are struggling to compete, often paying them NOT to produce (figure that one out). Do they make it easier to compete? No, they impose import tariffs that raise prices and pass the difference on to American buyers. Don’t believe in making it cheaper to get a higher education by forgiving interest on student loans… because no one forgave theirs…!) even though providing a cheaper education means more productivity and a better quality of life for millions of young workers who are the future of the country. (What they really mean is the banks, who are happy to be in the student loan business, lobby them and contribute money to their campaigns to keep the gravy train rolling).

The list goes on and on. Donald Trump was a narcissistic shyster and con artist in NY City, and he carried that to the White House. Only a fool would buy anything he “sells” (or shills), especially patriotism, religion or business acumen. The only thing he ever mastered is bullying and marketing, which produces nothing.

I didn’t vote for him, and after the debacle of his four years and two impeachments, where Republicans failed to show any moral character or concern for our Constitution, I won’t vote for another. Joe Biden may not be the best answer, but his heart is in the right place and if he only gets the Titanic turned back on track, I’ll be satisfied.

Basically, I believe our country is strong enough, prosperous enough, and wealthy enough to take care of its own. There is no reason we have hunger, poverty and homeless in this country. The fact that we do is shameful. We can be successful and still bring everyone along. We just have to have the will to do it.

So whatever I am, it’s no longer a Republican.