I created “Log Book,” an artist book, in 2018, during a residency at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts with the artist collective Frontline Arts, inspired by the non-profit Combat Paper. In collaboration with combat veterans from Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, I made paper by hand from my uniform “blues.” The first step was to cut our uniforms into one-inch pieces, then add them to a Critter Beater with cotton pulp. Disassembling my uniform was an emotional process. At first, I was unable to do so; even though I’d been a longtime handmade paper artist for 18 years prior, I had never worked with my personal uniforms before. I cut my wings free from my fatigues, which became the front cover image. As I cut my uniform, I thought about my 4 years at USAFA and 20 years of service that followed. I thought about how each year of service brought new missions, and how, with each new theatre in which I piloted C-130s, I grew as a leader. Each new assignment marked a transformation of myself as a person. Once the paper was couched as wet sheets, I removed excess water by placing the sheets under hydraulic pressure. I dried the paper under a restraint dryer and then folded the paper in order to assemble sections. Using the coptic stitch, I sewed together five sections to form the book’s pages using linen thread. Another member of the class, and Army veteran, helped me affix my wings onto the cover with a leathermaker’s craft tool. I began to see the entire papermaking process as a metaphor for my military service. In papermaking, we make something new out of core fibers. Through this long process (several days to make one sheet of paper), the resulting sheets are stronger than any individual piece of cloth or fiber. Papermaking is a cellular process. Through hydrating the fiber, the bonds formed are stronger. Out of the practice of converting my “blues” to paper and helping other veterans do so––creating a tapestry of life experiences throughout my service––I emerged stronger. The most powerful part of this project was papermaking alongside veterans of so many wars. Around the big craft table, we cut our uniforms together. When we reached the final product, we traded sheets. So, some of the sheets in this book are the green uniforms of Vietnam veterans and the tan uniforms of the wars in the desert: Iraq and Afghanistan. Together, we traded service stories. I gained a deeper appreciation of my connection to veterans throughout different service periods and different combat zones. We made something of our former selves. The blue of my pages remind me of my place in the Long Blue Line.