More News Columnists

• Bill Slakey: As Trib closes, many questions remain unasked
• Phill Casaus: Don't cry for us, Albuquerque; it was worth it
• Joline Gutierrez Krueger: My Wall of Fame holds memories of people, stories that have mattered

MOST RECENT TRIB STORIES

• ABQTrib.com to remain available
  08:48 a.m., February 25, 2008
• Congressman is indicted
  08:37 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Series of attacks target Green Zone
  08:36 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Iran is defying U.N., agency says
  08:35 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Waterboarding approval probed
  08:34 a.m., February 23, 2008

TRIB IN THE BLOGOSPHERE*

• Ty Murray Invitational thrills fans in Albuquerque
• Is Rome Burning?
• Ominous Skies
• The Road to Invalidation
• Albuquerque company participates in “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition”

*Note: The Tribune does not create and is not responsible for the blogosphere's headlines and stories. These links to blogs talking about ABQTrib.com are automatically generated. Use them at your own risk.

STORY TOOLS

• E-mail story
• Comments
• iPod friendly
• Printer friendly

SHARE THIS STORY [?]

Clearly, Heidi Maien did not believe her son had aimed high enough. Moms can be like that.

So, when Maien's boy, Airman 1st Class Markus Maier, emerged from his Florida hotel room in a crisp uniform designed by the United States Air Force, she put her foot down.

"She sees me and says, `I'm not going anywhere with you. Why are you embarrassing me like this?' " Maier recalls.

"I just told her `Mom, just watch. Just give me a chance. I want you to see. I want you to try and understand.' "

In the next couple of hours, Maier showed his mother exactly what it can mean to be a member of the U.S. military - even when the person wearing that uniform is German by birth.

Maien and Maier could not buy a drink that evening. Nor pay for their meal. Nor get very far in a conversation without someone walking by, noting the creased dress blues, and thanking the man within for wearing them.

"I think that's when it clicked in her mind the difference," Maier says. "Here, when you wear that uniform, it really means something. It was a real lesson to her."

Markus Maier, born in Germany, raised in Spain, sold on America, relishes that story. Thanks to his unusual background, his life will always be compare-and-contrast, but that night in Miami is always the sharpest way to illustrate where he's been - and where he is.

Although Maier now is a naturalized U.S. citizen, he began his 12-year career in the Air Force as a foreigner. It's more common than you might think. According to a 2005 report in the Christian Science Monitor, 7 percent of the active fighting force in the military had green cards in their wallets.

For his part, Maier's stories of patriotism have an accent - an unmistakable gumbo of German and New York and military. That's interesting, considering that in his job as the chief of community relations for the 377th Air Base Wing at Kirtland Air Force Base, he is often the first word about life behind the gates to the community that surrounds it.

"People think I'm from Louisiana for some reason," he says with a laugh, stamping out a cigarette over coffee. "I love it. I've never even been there."

That he could even think about going there is a story in itself. Here's the short version: Born in Munich in 1969, Maier lived in Germany until he was about 10, then moved with his mother and stepfather to Spain. Life in a Madrid boarding school convinced him his weekends would be well-spent in Torrejon, Spain, where a nearby U.S. Air Force Base promised plenty of . . . entertainment.

Maier found himself entranced by the GIs he met - their lifestyle, their camaraderie, their belief in one another.

"I don't know," he says, trying to explain. "I was always fascinated."

Skip a reel or two. A few years later, Maier found himself residing in New York City, thanks to a student visa and later, a green card. A longtime relationship had gone kaput; he was out of money and could no longer attend New York University.

"Then I remembered a thing called the Air Force," he says. "I thought it might not be a bad move."

It was a great move. Maier enlisted in 1994 and spent the first six years as a plumber - not his ideal job - until he retrained himself for a spot in public affairs. Now a staff sergeant, every day is different, an aim-high adventure.

Even at home. Maier's family includes a wife, two children and four stepchildren, ages 2 to 22. Someday, he'd like to take the younger ones to a posting in Germany, so they could see where his American dream started.

"I would like to put my little kids in a German school so they would have two worlds and learn both cultures and languages," he says. "My mother speaks some English, but when she calls . . . "

Well, the bridge between German and English is tough to negotiate.

But the good news is that there is a bridge. It was secured the night he escorted his mother from that dinner in Florida. Heidi Maien left on her son's arm, grasping what millions of others have always known.

That uniform means something.

"She was," Maier says happily, "the proudest woman on the face of this earth."

Moms can be like that, too.