A Good Cup of Joe

Show Me Those Cups

2018-10-27T17:34:00.000-04:00

I swore that I would give up on writing political posts. Unfortunately, most of America is one big political joke. So this blog was called for. I couldn’t help myself. I’m sure all of youhave watched the news and Facebook posts since the bomber. You know the guy. He sent bombs to key Democratic politicians and CNN. I have to say one thing about the thing. So many of you are just as crazy as the bomber. There are more conspiracy theorists than I can imagine! I’ve seen almost everyone blamed for it. It won’t be long before someone “connects the dots,” They will swear that Mickey Mouse was the mastermind behind it all. He is from Florida after all.

I haven’t seen anyone trying to offer a viable solution to the insanity. All people do is point the finger at each other. This problem was not caused by one side or the other. It was caused by both political sides, the media and people of wealth and influence.!!!!! For too long now, all off the above have been worried about their own political agendas and growth of power.They are trying to create a world where their views are the correct ones.

Both sides of the political spectrum have advocated violence to gain support and power over their opponents. They want people to believe that there is only one side or the other. “You can’t be a true American if you aren’t a hard core Christian Republican!” The other side is “You are a fascist if you don’t believe the way I do!” So which side is right? Neither of them are. A person cannot believe anything is 100% one way or another. That individual is either a fool, or a mindless drone just wanting to fit in.

For my own sanity, I have to believe the majority of Americans are more like me. We don’t see everything as black and white. In the case of America right now, blue and red. Let me give you an example. A friend, Donella Miller and I just had a difference of opinion on the whole kneeling during the national anthem. Both of us agree there is an issue with police brutality. She sees the kneeling as a way to get the message out. It makes people see. I am against it, because of my feelings about the National Anthem and our flag. I can see her reasons why she believes the way she does. She can see my reasons for how I feel. It is one of those things we can agree to disagree on. Despite our differences, we are still friends and support the others right to believe as they do. Imagine that an African-American woman and a bald white guy being civil.

Having civil discourse can make interesting things happen. Did you know that it can even be magical? Somethinginteresting happens each time people of different views sit down and have a civilized discussion. A die hard politician gets a belly ache. Let’s try and give them more discomfort. Let’s discuss the issues. See what the problems really are. I’m sure multiplepeople looking at the same problem from different angles can come up with a solution. It may even be one that most people can live with. Imagine if hundreds or thousands did this without having to be right.

Maybe we should start a new movement. We would have to come up with a cool name for it. I like the CUP’s (Consolidation, Unity, and Persistence.) Our symbol could be coffee and tea mugs. “Why did you come up with that crazy name?” you ask. First off, I like coffee. Secondly, coffee and tea are like opposing views. They are hot and bitter at first. If you give them time to cool and take small sips, you might find you enjoy the results. The warm liquid will permeate you, while giving you a warm jolt. This invigorates, making one ready to take on the challenges of the day. Plus, it is a far better symbol than a donkey or elephant.

I beg you. Let all of us take a look at what is going on now. No one likes where the country is headed. That is one of the common threads from all sides. Take the time to sit down over a nice cup. Do your best to have a civilized conversation with someone that is different than you. Understand that you are not going to agree on everything. Simply talk and listen. You will find you have many of the same problems. Each of you may come up with a solution or two to the common issues. You might even gain a better understand of the other individual. If nothing else, you gained a little time away from the pressures of the day.

PHA Dilemma

2018-10-14T12:31:00.001-04:00

Many people do not understand the difficulties that a member of the National Guard faces in order to be able to serve their state and country. Gone are the days when National Guard soldiers sat around drinking beer and telling stories. Today’s soldiers are pushed hard to be well trained and ready to answer the call, at a moment’s notice. We must balance home life, work life, and the military life. That is harder than one might think. There have been many times my wife has told me, “We’re not your soldiers.” I’ve also caught myself giving my employees the ‘knife hand’ or wanting to tell them to ‘drop.’

Staying ready and prepared for the military is always an issue. Physical fitness is much harder for a Guardsman, than an Active Duty soldier. We do not have the ability to have our Soldiers meet each morning for physical fitness training, as they do on active duty. Instead it is the responsibility of each individual to do it on their own. Some are great and remain physically fit. Others, well they look like they are in a perpetual state of pregnancy. Every reservist First Sergeant has at least one or two of these in our formations.

The Soldiers’ health is another stumbling block for us as well. Weekend Warriors have to pay for their own health care. It is not provided for as it is for traditional soldiers. This results in many of the younger soldiers not seeing a Dr. regularly. Many times we find major health issues when it is time to deploy. We all know you can’t send an unhealthy person to combat. Their health could kill them after all.

The military has found a way to try and weed out these problems prior to a deployment. The Periodic Health Assessment is the answer. Once a year, each soldier must go through a PHA. Periodic Health Assessment. This sounds great, doesn’t it? Soldiers go through a health review. Those needing to see a Dr. or Dentist to get fixed up get a chance to do it. Those that can’t be fixed can be processed out, opening positions for new soldiers to come in. That is the theory at least.

There are a few hang ups to this wonderful idea. A person must understand that the people that the people performing these functions are civilian contractors. They are paid by the number of people that they see. They are doctors, nurses, and technicians that are working to make extra money on the weekend. You can imagine how much thy truly care about the process and individuals. A good example is the dental exams. I have dentures, there is no reason for me to see the dentist. However, every year I have to sit 20 minutes in a line waiting for the dentist. I tell them I have dentures before I ever start waiting. When I finally get to the dentist it’s always the same.

“You have dentures?” the old man yawns.

I pull them out and show him. “Yes I do.”

He quickly signs my paper. “Thank you. Go to your next station, please.”

You can see where I feel so cared for and my time has been used properly. You have to see a physician before you leave. They ask you a few questions about your health. There is no physical exam. You could be dying from cancer or some weird tropical disease and they would never know. All you have to do is say you are fine. There are now health issues. They check the block and mark you as deployable.

On the flip side. A soldier who is tired of being in the Army, they simply need to go in and complain. They can complain about being stressed out, or any injury that is hard to verify. The Dr. will mark them as non-deployable. A medical review will then be initiated. The soldier may think that they will be out of the military soon. That is laughable. It can take a year or longer of Dr. visits and documentation before they are released.

God help you if you have some minor issue, and want to stay in. You are instantly marked as non-deployable. I don’t care if you have a twisted ankle, bunion, and some minor injury. It then becomes the individual soldier’s responsibility to prove that they are fixed and deployable after that. That may even cost the soldier money out of their own pocket.

This whole process takes the majority of the day. Each soldiers moves from station to station. There is no order. You jump in whatever line is shortest. The person there signs off the box for their station. Sometimes they don’t even look up at you. Then you race off to the next shortest line, until you have all your boxes checked off. Then you are done! A sense of euphoria passes over you at that moment. You are declared fit for duty for another year.

Hamburglared

2018-10-05T09:13:00.001-04:00

I’m sure this blog will upset a lot of you. I know there are so many of you out there that think you are enlightened, or morally superior to most people. This because you stand on one side or other. You are a pawn in this great debacle we call politics today. You are so embed in your side It binds you. You can see nothing else. You my friend have become what I term the, “McDonalds,” society. I know some of you are more Panera people, it’s the same concept though.

There two main reasons that I have named you this. McDonalds is the highest grossing restaurant in America. That is a sad testament to the American pallet. Why do you think this is?

It is not because it is a good cheap meal. God knows I can go to a lot better places and get a meal for almost the same price. It is because they are the advertising kings. They have convinced the people, especially the youth. They have to have that happy meal or super-sized value meal. Let’s not forget their burnt coffee mocha latte’s too. The golden arches are a symbol that children know immediately.

Think about the food as well. Is it that great? I know I would prefer a burger from many of the smaller independent restaurants. They are much more flavorful. The food isn’t made ahead of time. They are cooked on the grill while I wait. The meat is juicy. I can order the toppings I want on it. It isn’t dried out from sitting under a heat lamp for extended periods of time. However, people have been convinced that there is nothing like that special sauce.

This is how Americans are with politics and ideology, today. It doesn’t matter what side you are on, you have been brainwashed to follow in the steps of what others have told you is right. You can see this by how extreme most of you are on any given subject. There is only right and wrong. Your side tends to be always right! I wish I could say I was always right. Lucky for me, I have a wife and three daughters. They will let me know that I am not right when I go off the deep end. My twelve year old tells me, “Dad, you not right in the head” all the time.

Let me prove my point. I have friends that tell me that they support our President 100%.

He is our president. I work for the man. I will support the government I serve. Let’s get real though. Too many times I questioned the ideas of the President I served. However, I did my job anyway. I have not supported any politician, or idea, 100% since I was five years old. I listen to the crap that comes out of their mouths. There have been several questionable comments made. Twitter is not always a good thing!

The other side is the same. Some professor or disgruntled politician makes a comment about how evil the other side is. Some of them have even openly endorsed violence. The next thing you know, we have protesters destroying property and carrying makeshift weapons. Anyone not agreeing with them are a racist, patriarchal, homophobe. Don’t get me wrong. I believe in everyone’s right to a peaceful protest. They do not have the right to bully or destroy.

There are two sides to everything. Nothing is ever completely right or wrong. There is good and bad in everything. If you do not believe this, you have proven my point. Take the time to read and research a subject. Don’t let the media, a politician, parent, professor, or facebook tell you how to think. Do that for yourself. You know what happens to the lemmings. Many of them die following the crowd. Don’t give power to those that seek to control you. You are a puppet to their agendas, only if you choose to be.

I have not chosen the path of the norm. I will not be that hipster wearing a man-bun screaming for socialistic reform. Nor will I be that old fat man wearing the “Make America Great Again,” hat. I will be the grumpy old bald bastard sipping on his beer and whiskey. I’ll shake my head thinking, “Jackasses don’t they know they are both acting alike.”

You Hurt My .......

2018-09-24T09:00:00.002-04:00

There was a time in this world when people could discuss different opinions, even argue about them, without being offended. I can remember when I was in college. There were many times that we would sit down and have heated debates over political, social, and religious ideologies. There was often a bottle involved then. I did not always agree with other people. They did not always agree with me. I was called a few names that aren’t that nice. This was because I saw things different than others. Usually, the name referred to some part of the male, or female anatomy. This didn’t result in me running away to my ‘safe space,’ or a demand to have them censored. It made me want to be able to prove my point better.

I miss those days. It was a time when the idea of ‘freedom of speech’ was real. There were new ideas and ways of life I learned about. We are a nation that swears by the idea of “freedom of speech.” However, we do not practice what we preach. Today’s society is filled with individuals that get butt hurt when people have a different view or opinion. People act as if others have no right to a different opinion. There should be only one point of view…..their point of view.

People forget that this country was founded on the idea of freedom. Men and women have fought and died to guarantee this right to you. Some of these people weren’t even citizens of this country. This should make people realize an important fact. It is not just your views that should be protected, but everyone’s. No matter how asinine it may be. Believe me there are some people that are way out there. Think of those individuals wear tinfoil hats, believing that aliens are trying to suck out their brain waves. How does it hurt me to let them believe that?

There are so many different religions that are being practiced in this country. Each is important the worshipper. Please tell me how it hurts anyone to be told “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Hanukah,” “Peace be With You,” or “Blessed be.” No matter what form you worship God in, do you actually think you will be damned for that? Do me a favor. Think a little on it. Unless someone worships evil, all religions have the same basic ideas. Be good to people. There are just different paths to the afterlife. None of us will know who is right until we take that final dirt nap.

Socially there are a great many different views here. This is due to how we were raised, the region we are from, or our ethnic background. A person whose ancestors are from Ireland will have different views and ideas as someone that comes from Ethiopia, Brazil, or Japan. I believe that diversity makes life interesting. Things would be so boring, if we were all the same and acted alike. Plus, there would not have a variety of foods and entertainment to choose from. How would you like to have just one restaurant to choose from to eat at every day?

Politically we are a mess as well. There are two basic parties in this country. Watching them go at each other could be entertaining, if it weren’t so sad. Each side thinks that they are the only ones right. Maybe, they should take the time to listen to one another. Politicians should realize we are all Americans. They need to work together and find a middle ground. Neither side is 100% correct. Once they realize that they are not the center of the universe and all important, things will get better for us all.

“We the People,” is one of the most important phrases in our history. This means all the people in our country. It is not just for a single group. I believe, if you mix and stir us all together, you will come out with something wonderful. There will be a wonderful savory stew that all will want to taste. Leave one key ingredient out, you get something bitter or bland. A meal one will only eat to keep from starving. Don’t be afraid of different opinions. There is always something new you can learn from others. If, you can listen and talk without being offended.

Burning It Up

2015-06-13T17:41:00.002-04:00

I will begin my project with a story about myself. I am SFC Matthew Hopkins. I have served in the Virginia Army National Guard since 1988.This story took place during Desert Storm. I was serving as a young Specialist hauling fuel and vital supplies for the combat troops prior to the onslaught of the ground war. We spent weeks on the road without a shower or the water to shave. This made the time we spent at our LOG base extra special. We could sleep on a cot instead of the hood of a vehicle and get a well-deserved shower. It also shows that old soldiers don’t spring from the bowels of Hell. We all start off as a young dumb soldier.

The ground war had not started at the time. Our platoon had spent countless days ferrying fuel to key points along the Iraq border. This was in preparations for the push into enemy territory. The only water that we carried was for drinking. I don’t think I had had an actual shower in almost three weeks when we returned to our base. A dark green cloud of stench followed me as I drug my gear to our squad tent. All I could think about was some much needed sleep. I tossed my gear down on the pallet that served as my floor without any fanfare. Military gear and clothing spilled out like a child’s Legos. Ignoring my mess, I flopped face first onto the tight canvas cot. I would kill one of my soldiers for that kind of behavior today. Your gear gets taken care of before you rest. It could save your life if kept in good working order.

Unfortunately for my younger self, my squad leader had the mentality then that I do now. He was a left over from the Vietnam War and knew better than I did. He didn’t see the practicality of my actions. His experiences had taught him my actions were reckless. It was his job to correct that action. My eyes had barely closed when I felt a size 11 boot kicking my foot. “Hoppy get your sorry ass up off that bunk and get your gear squared away. You never know when the next run might come down the line.”

The retort I had died in my mouth before I could ever let it go. He stood there with his hands on his hips glaring down at me. He was the spitting image of my mother when she was pissed off at me. That was minus the breasts and dress, of course. You didn’t argue with your mother after all. I looked around at my buddies for some support. There was a dim hope that they would back me up. That idea crashed and burned. Each of them avoided eye contact with me. Somehow, they all had turned into G.I. Joe. Each man in my squad began to clean and put away their gear hurriedly. None of them wanted to be the next one called out. My job as the sacrificial lamb had been fulfilled. I did the only thing any other soldier would do in my place. I grumbled incoherently under my breath, sat up, and began to clean all my gear.

It took us almost three hours to get things right. First, it was weapons maintenance. Weapons come before anything else in the Army. If you have never cleaned a rifle that has survived 2 sandstorms, you are lucky. The sand in Saudi Arabia was extra nasty. The sand wasn’t that course big stuff most people experience at the beach. It was a fine baby powder dust. Small particles lodged in places that I didn’t even know a rifle had. There was no way to keep it from permeating everything. I used 2 old t-shirts and a pair of boxers getting it all cleaned to pass inspection. Don’t judge me! Old military boxers are better used for cleaning than wearing.

Once the equipment was prepped, it was time to take care of personal stuff. Laundry was next on the list. We hadn’t found a 24 hour dry cleaner. There were no washers and dryers in the desert. At least, there weren’t any for us normal people. The only option left to us was doing it by hand. I’m not sure who came up with the method we decided to use. All I know is that it worked fairly well. Several of us put all of our dirty uniforms in a large metal trash can. No, we didn’t toss a match in after. Although, that might have been a good idea. The stench from them could have been used for chemical warfare. We added water and some powdered detergent. Someone had come appropriated a large metal pole, a boat paddle would have been better. Since there were no boat available in the desert, we used the pole to stir the clothes like an agitator in a washing machine.

Each individual took a turn stirring our cauldron of clothes. Images of a bad take on the witches from Macbeth always runs through my head when I think about it. Our witches were dressed in camo, smoking cigarettes as we took turns stirring. A turn of 5 to 10 minutes was about all anyone could handle. Wet clothes are extremely heavy and dense. We stirred, poked, and prodded the uniforms until the water was a dark oily substance. As soldiers bored silly do, we made a game out of it. A stop watch appeared like magic. It became a contest to see who could stir it the longest. The water eventually looked like a weak coffee with nuggets of creamer floating in it. That was the signal to put everything in the rinse cycle.

The rinse cycle consisted of a second garbage can filled with the cleanest water we could find. Most people wouldn’t use the water we had to even water their gardens. It smelled funny and was processed from a military water purification plant. Despite it being ‘purified,’ we were still warned to not drink it. That water was only for bathing and cleaning. Only bottled water was fit for consumption. You have to love the military way of doing things. Our ‘purified’ H2O was stored in a 5000 gallon tanker. The tanker was kept on site by the shower. There was no way we were using the drinking water for cleaning. The good stuff was worth its weight in gold.

We dumped several 5 gallon cans of the water into the fresh can. Each soldier took time about pulling a piece of the clothing from the dirty water. That garment was then dunked into our cleaner batch of liquid. The preferred method required pushing to the bottom of the can repeatedly. Once the soldier felt that it was rinsed to a semi-clean state, two soldiers took ahold of it from different ends. Twisting it like crazy was the best method for ringing the water out of it. It is the same method used by teenagers to ring out a wet towel at the pool. After the water had stopped dripping from the pretzelized uniform, they were hung on a clothes line. The line was constructed from 550 cord. It stretched between the large squad tents we used. The sun died everything in less than an hour. That was to be expected when temperature was 100+ most days.

Satisfied that all the maintenance on all forms of gear had been done, it was time to take care of some much needed down time. There was nothing else that our Squad Leader could complain about. We all laughed and joked as we headed back into the tent for a long long sleep. Staff Sergeant Wiggins, my squad leader, was able to find that one thing that we had missed. The man had no compassion for poor tired troops. “You boys need to get you a shower before you lay down. It smells like someone let a herd of pigs loose in here.”

Being the young dumb aggravated smart ass I was at the time, I had to open my mouth. “Come on Ralph, we haven’t showered in three weeks. What is a few more hours? Besides, if you got out of the tent every once and while and sweated a bit you wouldn’t notice it as much”

That sealed my fate. Never call the Senior Sergeant in your tent a lazy bastard. Definitely, don’t use his first name when you are insulting him in that fashion.

“Really Specialist,” he said with a smirk. “Since you feel that way you can be the last to take a shower then. In the meantime, you are going to make sure the showers are filled and warm for the others first.”

Open mouth, insert whole leg! It is an art form. Few can master the retort that will land you in trouble like I did. The gasps and snickers that went through the tent testified to my skills.

I started to make another comment, but thought better of it. He could have done far worse. I wasn’t certain if anyone had been assigned shit burning duty. My younger self didn’t want any part of that. Taking care of the showers was like hitting the lottery in comparison. Filling a water tank and lighting a heater was much more desirable than setting human excrement on fire. None of us liked standing over that mess. It was made worse by the fact that an individual was required to stir the flaming mass with a stick until it all burned off. Anyone that has been stuck on that detail can tell you, it is not worth whatever you did.

Slowly, I walked the 50 or so yards to the shower. Like any young soldier, I kicked rocks and called down the curses of the gods upon the head of my squad leader. A lightning strike was too good for him. Boils and pestilence would have been a fitting punishment as far as I was concerned. My mind was focused on the horrors that would be inflicted to him, not the job at hand. Like an automaton, I filled all of the necessary tanks. This was a pain when considering how the shower was constructed. It was a wooden frame with pallets for the floor. The sides were made from thin plywood and an old canvas tent tied around it. A metal welded tank rested on the top of structure. It was filled with water and gravity fed water to the 6 shower heads below. The person on this detail had to climb up a ladder nailed to the side repeated to complete all the tasks for hot showers.

There were no electric water heaters in the desert, at least not for us normal soldiers. We had to use submersion heaters. That is an archaic device. It was basically a gas fuel tank and exhaust pipe that set down in the water to heat it. There was a chamber at the bottom of the device where the fuel burned to heat the water. A person would start a small trickle of fuel, preferably a slow drip. This gathered in the bottom of the sealed chamber. There wasn’t a simple button to push for ignition. It was ignited by tossing a match in as the gas dripped slowly in. It wasn’t normally that dangerous to light.

That day, was much different. My own desire to daydream and focus on my own misery became my undoing. That combined with someone trying to be proactive created all the factors needed for a disaster. The only way the heater became dangerous was if you allowed too much fuel to gather in the chamber. I was not focusing. I failed to notice that someone had already filled the chamber with fuel. That was a mistake I would pay for. The fuel began to drip into the chamber. Certainly I was still cursing as I struck the match and tossed it in.

Every god I had called upon was chuckling at me then. I’m certain they were even taking bets on the outcome. My world erupted in a flash of light and a roar. Luckily for me, the heater didn’t explode. However, a giant fireball shot out. Flames, heat and light engulfed me. There was a moment where I was weightless suspended above it all. The next moment I was flying off the top of the shower. A rope holding the canvas around the structure may have saved me from serious harm. Somehow my leg became entangled in it. My smoldering self stopped only inches from the ground. I dangled like a worm wigging on a hook while parts of the canvas and plywood started to burn.

Sometimes it is good to have your buddies close by in a disaster. There are other times when you wish you were alone. This was one of those instances where it was a mixed blessing. My buddies came running out of the tent. The noise and my screaming probably had something to do with their curiosity. Several of them rushed over to try and help me. Others rushed to grab cameras and take pictures of my dilemma. Facebook wasn’t even a thought then. People had to have pictures to share the moment. I’m sure I would have laughed and took picture too, if it had been someone else dangling there. A person with their eyebrows and mustached burnt off screaming for help can be rather amusing.

One of the guys pulled out a pocket knife and cut me loose. I had only a moment to view the destruction wrought by my actions. Someone screamed, “Put that Damned fire out!”

Being a man of action, and feeling responsible for the fire, I sprang into action. The closest fire extinguisher was in the motor pool. I sprinted there, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the first vehicle. Some of you smarter people are already asking, “Why?” It was the heat of the moment. Putting out the fire was all I had on my mind. I wasn’t a trained firefighter, after all.

I had the pin out and ready to go as I arrived back on site. The canvas was mostly gone. Several pieces of wood were charred. There was no time to waste. I let loose with a cloud of chemicals. I sprayed back and forth like a madman. One extinguisher was not enough. Someone handed me a second one to finish the job. A cloud of fumes and smoke arouse into the air while I stepped back to catch my breath.

This is where the rest of you go, “Aha!” I was proud of my quick thinking when a booming voice came across my shoulder. It caused my satisfied grin to fade “Quick thinking Hoppy. You know you could have used the water from the tanker.”

My Platoon Sergeant stood towering over me. Sergeant First Class Glenn Day was a mountain of a man. He was another one of those Vietnam Veterans who had the presence that demanded respect. His smile made me feel so small and stupid. My heroics were lost in that moment. It was that look that a parent gives a child when they have done something wrong that they are proud of.

Slowly, I turned following his gaze. There sat the 5000 gallon water tanker just a few feet away. Water trickled out of the end of the hose. The hose lay where I had tossed it after filling the water tank. The hose was just inches from the shower. It was one of those moments when you just want to do that palm slap to your own head. All I could do was hang my head and stare sheepishly and the sand blowing across. Someone snickered. That caused someone to laugh. That laugh caused others to start laughing. Before long we were all laughing. The mirth was one of those long heart felt sessions soldiers have. They come after something serious as just happened, and everyone made it out alive.

Everyone started to wander off as the laughter died down. Things are only interesting for so long. I was standing there looking at the carnage I had created. My Platoon Sergeant placed one of those big paws of his on my shoulder. There was some humor still in his voice as he spoke to me. “You know you have to rebuild it, don’t ya.”

“Roger that Sergeant,” I replied. There was no joy in Muddville that day.

He chuckled again, “First go get checked out. You look like a sun burnt hairless rat right now.”

It took a few minutes for them to pronounce me fit for duty. That was after all of the laughter died down. The laughter had started when an individual showed me what I looked like with my eyebrows and most of my mustache burned away. What are friends for, if not to laugh at your misery? My friends kept up the laughter as I rebuilt the showers the next few days. Soldiers from all the platoons sat about shouting advice and laughing with each misstep I had during the reconstruction. I think I called them every name I could imagine during that period. I couldn’t stay mad at them. I understand I was their moment of entertainment during a time of extreme stress.

The Bane of the Bald Man

2014-11-05T09:28:00.002-05:00

I am writing this for my friend Jamie Cantrell. He reminded me of this terrible problem.

First of all, this is not a vanity piece I am writing for myself. I have been asked several times to write about the epidemic that has hit the men of the United States Military. More specifically, the Senior Non-Commissioned Officers that prowl the ranks and file. This tragic disease seams to affect a majority of the men without any thought to race, religion or ethnic origins. This silent stalker is known as Male Pattern Baldness.

I am not a scientist that can give you a long explanation why so many of these gallant souls are affected by this tragedy. I have thought about it in depth, due to the fact that it has been a problem for me for almost 30 years now. The first school of thought: Soldiers just have way too much testosterone in their systems. This could be true. Soldiers are required to be super aggressive and ready to destroy the enemies of the nation. The NCO’s have to have even more so that they can control the younger soldiers. Usually, it is harder to control them in garrison than in a combat. Too many young men and women think it is a good idea to sneak out of a third story window to get more beer. That isn’t so bad, but there is always that one. They do it wearing combat boots and a sheet. Screaming ‘I am Bacchus, God of Wine.’

My father, a veteran, claimed it was the hats and helmets that we always had to wear. He claimed that the constant friction and lack of oxygen killed the hair follicles. I have to disagree with the Old Man. Like most young soldiers, I was always taking off my headgear or wearing a bandana to protect the skull. This of course was when there were none of my Sergeants around. Back in my day, they would have strangled me with the bandana or beat me with the helmet. Not to the death of course, that would require too much paperwork. I have learned that as I climbed the ranks.

I even had one of my fellow soldiers claim it was an experiment from the government. They had put something in the endless inoculations that the military had given us. He wasn’t sure what the experiment was about, just that it was being performed on us. I don’t put much past the government. That is one I shrugged off. He did retire early from the Army. Now, he draws one of those special checks from the VA.

It doesn’t matter about the reason. What matters is how you treat these poor souls. Remember, we have many problems you do not have. If we are off duty, hats are something that we forgo a lot. I will guarantee that every year each of one of our special group receive a sunburn like you have never experienced. There is nothing worse than a sunburnt head. It is a pain like you have never had before. Additionally, there is the problem of the peeling skin as it heals. That makes a person look like an alien from the show ‘V.’ The Snake people are taking over!

The winter holds a different problem for us. God help you if you forget your wool cap in a snow or ice storm. A sheet of ice will form on the top of the old noggin. This isn’t so bad. What really sucks is when you go inside. The cap begins to melt. Ice water will slowly run down your neck and down your back. The ‘Ice Challenge’ has nothing on this. You are freezing the rest of the day. Nothing but a steaming hot bath can solve the issue.

Finally, there are all the people that think it is good luck to rub your head. A bald head is not a Buddha Belly people. In fact it can be very bad luck for you. The wrong bald man may take it as an insult. The result could be a dislocated soldier. Be nice and ask before you touch. The life you save may be your own.

Please keep us in mind as you brush your hair this morning. You may complain about all the hair care products you have to use, or the time you have to take to look your best. We do not have that option. It is a simple was and go. The only hair care product we may have is a can of Turtle Wax.’

Welcome to the Neighborhood

2014-08-15T10:50:00.002-04:00

I read another article today by an individual who is afraid of having returning combat veterans in their neighborhood. They have a fear that the individual will snap and wreak havoc upon their neighbors. I am sorry that we individuals who served and sacrificed so much, are a nightmare that keeps these individuals awake at night. Instead of cowering and clutching your children to your breast when we pass, just say “Thank You.” You wouldn’t have that giant SUV and over priced home if that man our woman had not stood the line while you sat at home watching Oprah.

Instead of worrying about what could happen, think about how that soldier could be a benefit to your community. Neighborhood watch goes to a new level with vets around. You know that your children are safe playing in the neighborhood when they are on watch. Children are more important to soldiers than you might think. Even in combat zones, we give them candy and presents. Many soldiers have died trying to save the life of a child, even of our enemies. The health and welfare of a child is more important than our own. Additionally, we are ever vigilant for danger. It is ingrained in us from having to survive. Any strange people, or vehicle, will quickly send up red flags. Remember, we are able to run up mountains with an extra 80 pounds of gear on. That weirdo on the playground has no chance.

Occasionally, communities have problems with peeping toms, flashers, and other such wierdos. It is hard for the police to always catch these pervs. Have your husband’s go over and buy the monster a few cold beers. They can explain the problem and ask his help. I’ll bet they have a wife, daughters, or even a mother. I am sure they will love the excitement of the idea. We’ll never turn down an opportunity to cammo up and hide in the darkness. It gets even better because there is a chance of jumping from concealment and scaring some dirt bag to death. I’ll apologize early for any traps your husband may trip while walking the dog at night. Those flare trip wires will give you a headache. Just make sure your spouses don’t ask to help. You don’t want to have to deal with a 5 A.M. boot camp going on through your streets. They can’t go to combat without training after all.

Veterans are also great for getting rid of pests as well. No, I’m not talking about you daughter’s boyfriend. There are too many laws about that. My neighbors have used me several times when a rabid groundhog, opossum, or raccoon have made an unwanted appearance. Most combat soldiers have no quam about putting down a sick animal. It is far better than the suffering it has to go through. Don’t think we missed the shot if you hear 2 shots. It’s just the training. You have to make sure it is dead and dead again. For a cold beer or bratwurst, we’ll even dispose of the carcass for you. We know some of you suburbanites are a little squeamish about that.

If you live in the country, we can even be more help. Sometimes we may go a little overboard. Don’t ask us to put up a fence without specifications. You might end up with triple strand concertina wire, a four foot tall berm, or both with a tank ditch added in for good measure. When asking us to remove a stump, make sure you specify no explosives. Without that specification, you might have a crater that you can park your truck in.

Let’s not forget those combat medics and surgeons. They are a plus to have in the neighborhood. They can treat everything from a headache to a sucking chest wound. You may say you don’t need that much experience. I beg to differ. Remember when Mr. Jones came home with lipstick on his collar at 1 A.M. Yep the medic would have when he ran out of the house screaming with that meat thermometer sticking out of his backside. Just don’t be surprised if the have you clear out a landing zone and call in for a medevac.

Veterans are not the monsters I the closet. We do have problems and issues. So does the beauty pageant mom and the workaholic dad. Don’t shoot fireworks at our homes or yell “Incoming.” We will be fine. Treat us as your neighbors and friends. All we every want is to come home and live our lives enjoying our families and working hard. Give us a smile and wave. That goes a long way.

Time to Pump You Up

2014-07-16T08:21:00.002-04:00

As you get older, it is a good thing for you to stay in shape. My Dr. tells me that the benefits of a healthier life include a much longer life. That is definitely an idea that as appeal to me. However, there are those that would have preferred it if I had expired years ago. I just have to say, “Na Na Boo Boo. I am still here.” Heck, there was even a time when I found out that people were planning my wake. Someone had heard that I had been killed in Bosnia. Boy, were they shocked when I came home.

I do feel that I should try in shape. I am at that age now where it is harder to do so, and stay there. It will not be much longer before I reach that half century mark. I do not want to be like so many other people I have seen that get old before their time. They let those little aches and pains rule their lives. There is so much still to enjoy out there. Why would I want end up living my few remaining years sucked into a recliner watching Jeopardy. I do not want to be that Jabba the Hut person who can’t find the remote when it gets dropped in the chair beside me.

I am not working out to become some middle-aged, He-man, Sir Hunk-a-lot. There is no desire to grace the pages of GQ for this guy. That is just too much work. I enjoy lifting, but not all the other things required to achieve that status. Who wants to do 1000 sit-ups, run way too many miles, eat nothing but boiled chicken, and drink only water? What is life without some good old-fashioned fried food, long nap, and an ice cold beer? Give me bratwurst, or give me death! Yea you guessed it I’m not a vegetarian. My daughter would actually call me a meatetarian.

My desire to work out comes from two personal desires. The first reason is for my own self absorbed ego. I have to prove I am still the man I was 20 years ago. Thank God I am not any many ways. My bald backside was luck to survive those years once. The second time might be enough to give my guardian angels strokes. I want to be that 70 year old man still out having fun with life. There is this insane dream to sky dive on to the White House lawn for my 75^th birthday; wearing just a smile and a pair of American flag boxers. You cannot be weak and decrepit to do that. The Secret Service can’t be allowed to catch me that easy. What would the fun be in that?

The main reason is my three little girls. I want to bulk up and become extremely scary for when my little girls start dating. A fifty-something old man with a snow white beard does not have that intimidation factor. The dates will picture their child with a sweet Santa at Christmas. No father wants their daughters’ suitors to be relaxed and happy around them. We want them to tremble and shake fearing for their lives. A Santa with 42 inch pythons can put a little quiver in that happy thought. Cracking walnuts with those monsters will definitely make them fear a jolly old man.

There are only a few short years left until those first dates. It is time for me to get to work. I have a lot of push-ups to do. It will be a while before I bench press that Volkswagen.

The 4th, Once More

2014-07-01T11:36:00.002-04:00

The 4^th of July is here again. Unfortunately, my job informed me that I have to work my normal shift. There will be no barbeque and fireworks for me with my family. My wife will have to take the girls to watch the show by herself again. This upset me at first. I thought, “Who deserve to enjoy the 4^th off, if not me. Come on I spent some many of them watching fireworks that were a lot more dangerous and that were aimed at me.” Then I realized, I was being a selfish whinny kid.

This holiday isn’t about beer guzzling, burning a good burger to cinders, or watching Uncle Bob blow his fingers off with an M-80. We easily forget what it is really about living our fast paced lives filled with constant entertainment and instant gratification. As Americans, we feel that it is our right to have this time off to over indulge and be ignorant.

Maybe we should all have to sit through a history class the morning before the festivities start. Make all the radio and television stations run the same program all day. I would vote for one of my old college professors teaching a class on how this country came to be and the true reasons why we separated from the British Empire. Ask most people, I am sure that they cannot tell you the real reason. I’ll bet that they cannot name a single event that lead up to us declaring independence. Okay a few will mention the Boston Tea Party.

After the history lesson, I believe that each of our elected officials should take turns reading off all the names of every man or woman that gave their lives in service since the day we declared our independence. Once they have finished, let’s have all the leaders of each, “racially pure” group read off the names of everyone that is registered as immigrating to this country. We will only use the official records. IT will be interesting to give them lists with their ancestors highlighted.

I’m certain that will take care of all the entertainment for the day. I wish I could say it would make people think and be more reverent for the holidays we have. I would be kidding myself. Over 90% of Americans do not truly care. It is another day off and an excuse to cook out and have several cold ones with friends and family. Before you chug that 5^th beer, look at one of those little flags you have decorating that cake you bought for the festivities. What do those colors stand for?

I didn’t think most of you would know. It isn’t considered politically right to be that patriotic any more. Thank whatever deity you believe in that there are, and were, men and women that do know it. They built this country and still defend it. So shove another braut in your mouth. There are others that “have this” for you.

We All need a Hero

2014-06-30T12:07:00.004-04:00

I have read and heard so many people lately state that “They deserve it.” This is not from people accepting the results of some action that they took; resulting in a negative reaction. God forbid that people actually get what they deserve in life. These are the people that believe they deserve everything good in life weather they worked for it, or stepped on others to get what they want. Too bad karma doesn’t always work. There are too many that would be regulated to some dark corner of a cesspool in life. They would need a step ladder to simply climb up out of the gutter enough to even glimpse daylight.

We all know those individuals. They are born into families where an older relative amassed wealth that the rest of the family is feeding off of. They spend all their time and money partying and enjoying life. They would not spend a dollar to help a homeless family, or feed a starving child. That would cut into their cash needed to impress others in their circle. It would be a travesty if they couldn’t afford that third vacation home in whatever location is trendy this year.

Let’s not forget the people that were born poor, but who fought their way to the top of the human pyramid of success. The hated the places they came from. Their hatred was so great that they used the backs of others to reach the pinnacle of their success. Most of them have disdain for the people that helped them, and for the people the y left in the past. All they care about is reaching that next goal.

Maybe, it is time that we quit celebrating their successes. Let’s be serious. Do we really need another reality television show about spoiled little rich kids. Why read about the exploits of some ubber-rich individual that just bought a small island of the coast of Timbuktu to escape the stress of having to deal with their fans. These are not heroes that our children should emulate. Let them find people that deserve more, but who do not cry for more.

Let our youth see the beauty in that kindly old lady down the street. No one ever recognizes her, but she has been making sandwiches for the homeless for the last 20 years. She uses the money from her Social Security check and donations of others to feed others that she feels are more needy than she is. Her joy is seeing people smile when they have a meal feeling their bellies.

Support the doctors that give their time and money to help children in both the United States and in smaller countries. They buy medicines and perform surgeries for those in need. You do not hear them brag about the good they have done. They simply take their time off do what they feel needs to be done. Unfortunately, it does inconvenience people such as Ms. Fatpurse. She has to wait and extra few weeks to have her latest enhancements done. It is terrible that she may have to survive as a C for a few more weeks.

Don’t forget about all those veterans that returned home. There are many of them that are “damaged.” However, they do not complain. They try and continue to be a part of society, although in slightly different ways. Whenever you are down, think about the young soldier that lost both his legs in an explosion. He didn’t give up on life, instead he did rehab and received new legs. Now, he is running marathons with the help of artificial limbs. Tell me you are having a bad day because they got your order wrong in the drive-thru.

“Stop the Insanity!” It is time that we gave our children real heroes again. Why don’t you be their hero? I’m sure your child can picture you with a cape and tights. Okay, maybe not tights for everyone.

Coca-Catastrophie

2014-02-10T08:14:00.000-05:00

I cannot believe that a company such as Coca Cola could even think of allowing people to sing an American song in a variety of different languages. What were the people in charge thinking? I am thoroughly shocked. How could a company that had a motto, “I would like to give the world a coke and teach them to sing in perfect harmony,” think something like that would be acceptable. Do they think we are a multiracial nation where many of our children are born from parents of diverse backgrounds?

You would think that this country was founded by people that spoke French, English, Spanish, German, Gaelic, and other languages. There wasn’t an indigenous people here that had no clue what English was when our ancestors arrived to carve out a new future for the wayward children of Europe. Were they thinking that the infrastructure of this country was created by poor immigrants from Europe and Asia? Who were all those people that came through Ellis Island? Come on Coke executives who taught you history in school? Wasn’t that subject called American History?

I think you should have talked to the Veterans of this country before you aired something like that. How many of us have ever served with someone who spoke multiple languages? Really haw many 1^st or 2^nd generation Americans do you think have served or died for this country? Do you think we have ever seen the pride in a man’s eyes when he was awarded his American Citizenship while serving this country? Soldiers have never brought husbands and wives home from these far off lands. We have shed our blood sweat and tears for the people and ideas that make this, “the land of the free and home of the brave.”

If you haven’t caught the sarcasm yet, and you think I support you for protesting Coca Cola, you are denser than I thought. Wake up simple minded America. Most of you would not have been here if some ancestor had not been considered a criminal, or religious heretic. This country was not founded by the simple ideas of Anglo-Saxon men. It was the hard work of men and women who came from the far corners of the world. They were the down trodden that sought better lives for themselves and their families. They fought and died in the wars and hardship that shaped this nation. Look at your history books.

The next time you bite into a hamburger, think where it came from. Remember these words:

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

This is the America that I know and have fought for. If you do not know, that is inscribed on The Statue of Liberty. Oh yea, a Frenchman made it!

Slipping Into the Future

2014-01-27T22:53:00.003-05:00

Most my life I have heard people compare ‘Time’ to a river. It is ever flowing and moving forward. The current slides by as the seconds of our lives tick away. I’m not certain if these people were trying to comfort me, or make me feel insignificant. I wondered why they never the moments of life to the wind, rain, or snow? Maybe it was because they hated the idea of me assailing them from above? That could be humorous in itself. Millions of little bits of me raining from above. One last time I could rain on their parades.

Truthfully, I can see what they meant as I get older. It is easy to see our lives as a river flowing on. You cannot look at all of our lives flowing through one river of time. We are not a discarded beer bottle bobbing down the stream to eventually be sunk or smashed against the rocks. That would be ridicules to think. That would place us all on the same path. Besides, who would drink all of the beer to toss our empties in?

I see each of us as our river. Each of us start out as a small stream, or spring. As we grow from a baby to a child, our stream deepens and widens from the knowledge and experiences we gain. Others will spill their water into our streams as they affect our lives and growth. The soothing rain, drought, and raging storms of childhood will shape us, feed us, ad turn us into the river we will become. Some will roar and rage filled with rapids. Other rivers will flow gently and slowly; never seeming to churn or cause turmoil. Most are a mixture of both. There are times when our lives are filled with rapids and jagged rocks. Then, there are times when we are gentle and smooth enough for a rotund man to float gently down.

Not all rivers run the same courses. Some run a fairly straight course trying to race on. These sweep by at a hurried pace, racing to the final destination. They pick bits of small debris carrying them here and dropping them there. Occasionally they overflow their banks depositing little mounds of waste and enriched soil; giving life and pain to those that live on the shores.

Some rivers meander about, trying to find a good path to travel. They bend and twist. Many they even loop back upon themselves. They seem to loose themselves trying to find that one right path. The land around them always seems marsh and damp. Despite the desperation of these bodies, they feed and nourish an abundance of life. The wandering waters are not lost, just taking a longer path to the end.

A third type is the one that rushes violent forward. It sweeps mightily onward flinging debris from its path. Its’ rushing waters reform the rocks and the river banks. It creates its own path when it is needed. This force of nature cannot be tamed easily. The river roars laughter as it travels quickly on. The river throws spray into the faces of those that dare to creep too close. The spray says “Ha! I run free. You cannot touch me.”

All rivers try to run their course according to their natures. Each trying to join some greater body in the end. None travel the same course their full length. There is a little of each type in everyone. Sometimes, we are a force of nature to be reckoned with. Some days we are gentle and slowly traveling along. Other times, we meander and seem lost on our course. There are even those that are so lost they become cut off from themselves. These people become a dark murky pool filled with slime and tadpoles. Life is a journey. There is beauty in the traveling of it. If we are lucky, a part of us will evaporate and turn to rain. I still want to rain down on a few people when they are trying to barbeque.

Happy Veterans Day

2013-11-11T09:49:00.002-05:00

    Today is Veteran's Day. I would like to thank All those that have served. You have sacrificed so much. I know how hard it is to leave your family and friends to do your duty. You has spent long hard hours in places that few people even know the names or locations. We have cried, ranted and laughed at things sane people would have walked away from. Each of you are a hero in your own right. Remember, You are the few that dare to do do the things so that the many may sleep well at night.

    We must also thank our families and friends at this time. They spend long sleepless nights worrying about us each time we go down range. They are our heroes. Our spouses, families and friends must keep life going while we struggle elsewhere. It is no easy feat for them as well. They must care for our children, and keep our memories alive at the same time. Anyone that has to care for multiple children alone deserves our respect. There is a different stress involved in dealing with naked children running through the house, while trying to complete homework and cook dinner. Sanity is a fleeting thing for them.

    For those individuals and politicians that are jumping on the 'Thank a Veteran' bandwagon because it is a holiday, I am letting you know I think you are number one. However, I am not holding up my index finger. You are the people that only do this because it is fashionable to be seen doing this today. How many of you wrote a military person while they were over seas? How many of you visited a family of a veteran while they were overseas? I'd say you are the same people that couldn't find a VA hospital, let alone take the time to visit a veteran there.

    Most of Congress couldn't even tell you how many people from their home states are serving in foreign countries today. I'm certain they do not know the names. Here's an idea. Use some that Congressional money you have for expenses and send each of them a thank you letter. It could be a form letter, we understand that. Just take the time to sign it yourself. I'm sure a few hours away from the lobbyists and power brokers won't kill your career. You might even put a smile on a lone troop's face.

    There are those of you that constantly show support for the troops. For all of you, we say thank you back. The letters, boxes, and special things mean a great deal. I want to send a special thanks to my wife and family for being there. You are the reason I make it home. To the two little elder ladies that bought me shots in the airport on my last return home. Thank you as well. I needed that. Keep up the good work!

   Happy Veterans Day to all those that are still with us, and to those that have gone before us!

Shaken, Not Stirred

2013-11-03T21:53:00.001-05:00

I saw where a friend posted that we are the result of the thousands that came before, or some sentiment of that nature. At first, I took it to mean that we were the biological results of thousands of years of breeding. It might be more inbreeding for some. We all know that there are many physical traits that we inherit from our parents. There are even stronger traits that are shared by people from specific regions and cultures. I definitely agree with this idea. There is enough scientific data to support this assumption. Look at me I am proof. My perfect bald head is the results of genetic tweaking and refining.
However, I believe that the idea read had more to do with the people that were part of our lives and how they affected us. The recent passing of my uncle helped me to realize the importance those people held in my life. I would like to thank each of them for the little part of them that they shared with me. Some individuals that would like to curse you for those darker parts. There is no way for me to share each part that everyone contributed to create a unique me. Therefore, I am only going to thank a few.
I guess I should start with that person that gave me life, my Mother. Mom is strong and tough. She speaks her mind, sometimes not at the best moment. The truth was always important to her. I definitely have those attributes well in hand. There are professors, officers, and even former friends that will attest to my ability to relay the truth. Many of the times it was far from the popular thing to do. Hell! I've even made a few grow men cry. I think they needed that though.
My Father taught me patients and a love for life. I'm sure many of the things my Dad did with me growing up would have landed him in jail today. He used to let me sit in his lap and steer the car while going down the road. I couldn't have been more than eight at that time. How many parents would even try that today? His stories about the Army and foreign lands, led to my joining and traveling to wild exotic places. It is doubtful I ever could have hoped to reached them on my own. I still write today because he loved to read my articles in the paper, before he died. Someday I hope to finish that book for him.
There was my Grandpa Williams, Dewey was his first name. He was the 7th son of a 7th son. If you do not know what I am referring to there, I'll just say he could do some freaky stuff. He taught me a respect for nature and the things it took me a long time to accept. He was a quiet man that didn't speak a lot. However, you had better be listening when he did. I once broke my arm from falling out of a try. I was a screaming crying mess until he spoke to me. "You will be O.K.," was all he said. It was enough. The fear was gone. I even relaxed enough to help them splint my arm.

Uncle Pete was one of my other influences. He had told us tall tales from the time I could remember. They fascinated and entertained our young minds. To be honest, we believed many of them. Growing up ruined the fantasy aspect of his stories. However, they were still great stories. I try to remember them and turn them into some of my short stories. The one about his birth was always my favourite. The tale was also one of the first I turned into one of my tales. He gave me the love of telling a good story. Hopefully I do his memory justice.
My friend was right. We are the compilation of all those that have come before us. Each that people that influenced me, were initially molded by others. It may have been family, friends, or even enemies. Each person before me was the result of those before them. I am not them. I am me, at least for this week. Next week, who knows?

We the People

2013-10-14T11:54:00.002-04:00

I do try to stay away from politics when I write. I like to write about the more humorous aspects of life. If I do it right, some people may even think about the issues that are underlying in my stories. However, it is hard for me to ignore the government shutdown and the affect it is having on our nation. If it isn't something that is bothering you; you either live in another country, are wealthy, or need a cranium rectum inversion procedure.
I have read many things about the problems that are occurring. I have talked to several people that this affects seriously. First, lets look WIC. Those of you that do not need it may not care. I do! They are not allowing any more parents to apply for it currently. Are you serious! We are denying children milk and food they need, because the people we elected cannot work together. I bet your local congressman doesn't go without his/her bottle of spirits tonight. Why should a child go to bed without a bottle of formula? Are we that messed up?
Our enlightened leaders have also furloughed our stopped the pay for many government employees. The people who are in "non-critical" jobs have simply been sent home on unpaid leave, until a budget can be passed. Those that are in critical positions will not receive pay. Those are the individual that guard you from danger and harm. Yet, the individuals that are causing the problem; the Congress and White House still receive their pay and extras. I still believe we should stop their pay and fine them $20,000 a day per person. I bet a compromise would be reached quick then. Plus, that money could be used to reduce the deficit.
We will not even discuss the money spent to close National Parks. I know it is so expensive to let someone hike or look at a monument dedicated to them. Our Veterans recently marched on D.C., tearing down the barriers that stopped men and women who had risked their lives from going to monuments. Men and women in wheelchairs and missing limbs, tore down that which stopped them from physically reaching their goals. Can we not tear down barriers as well as those brave few. Let us remove the barriers of difference and come to an understand. The nation must have it.
I have been reading a lot of the writings of Thomas Jefferson lately. I think more people should. He was a man far ahead of our times, let alone his own. I wonder what he would think of our nation today. My guess is that he would weep at the government he found in power. So much of what he fought against has come to pass. Our nation is strong and proud. But, shall we allow pride and power to destroy what so many have fought and suffered to uphold. That is up to, "We the People."

Under Attack!

2013-09-27T22:45:00.002-04:00

There are many things in our lives that are humorous to others, but we do not find the laughter at the moment. I recently had one of those events. It occurred after I was attacked by a nest of yellow jackets while mowing the yard. I had my 2 year old riding with me on the mower at the time. Luckily, I was the target of their anger. She escaped any harm. She was more upset about not riding anymore, than the threat of the insects. Me, I was cursing from the stings across my back. Those little buggers pack a wallop!
Their nest was close to the house, and I have 3 children. There was no choice. I had to eliminate them. So in true military fashion, I declared war on the terrorist insects. Their cowardly attack was not about to go unavenged. They had dug deep into the earth by my neighbors fence. They were entrenched and ready for battle. I was certain they had a network of tunnels for use to evade and attack. The typical wasp and hornet spray would not work on this foe. More elaborate and destructive measures would be required. After all, they outnumbered me 500 to one. Superior firepower was required.
I didn't have access to some good old-fashioned napalm. Even if I had some C-4, I am certain the detonation would have caused me more trouble than the solution. My wife and neighbors would have been upset with their windows being blown out. I'm sure the local police, ATF, and FBI probably would not be too happy with me either. It would not be fun to spend time in prison over some yellow jackets. A part of me would have loved to see them evaporated, despite the consequences.
Reluctantly, I chose a few less destructive methods. Although, the choices I made weren't the least destructive choices. Like any good soldier attacking a larger force, I waited for the sun to start to set. The enemy was starting to settle in for the night. There is no better time to attack a hive than then. The little savages are starting to settle in for a good sleep. Slowly, I filled every opening I could find with gasoline. I emptied nearly 5 gallons worth in as many holes. Then, I tossed a match to it. There was no resounding explosion, but a big section of my yard went up in flames. UUGGH UUGGH fire good!!
Once the flames died down, I began to dig up the hive. You have to make sure you get the queen. Otherwise, they will be back with a vengeance. I dug up a hole as big as the hood of my truck. The comb I found was as big as my head. I stomped and smashed it to a pulp. This is where the humor part comes in. Yellow jackets do come out, even if it is getting dark. They were not happy with my actions. I was out of accelerant, so I decided to try and drown the creatures. In a matter of minutes, I had created a miniature swimming pool. I shoved the hose down every opening I saw them crawling out of.
A person would have thought fire and water would have ended their existence. No! They were swarming around the hole again the next morning. Resolved to finish this, I purchased 5 more gallons of gas. I didn't wait for dark. Girded in every piece of military gear I could find. The gear was thick enough to keep the stings away. I filled even more holes with gas and lit it. This time I didn't wait for the flames to die down. I began to dig up more tunnels and holes while the flames killed each of the enemy as they tried to escape. Believe it or not, there were still some of them flying around after that.

They were not going to win! I grabbed a 2 gallon jug of kerosene and filled the holes with that. I let it set and soak in for a long time. Then I set a fuse down one of the holes and lit it. It burned far longer and better. Once the flames died away, I flooded the holes again with water. The number of little soldiers dropped drastically. I then set out some milk jug traps to capture any survivors. The number of flying kamikazes finally dropped down to almost nonexistence.
Since then, I have been able to mow the area without assault. I still have a crater that needs to be filled. It looks like a mortar struck the spot. I have to fill it back in soon. If you think I am kidding or exaggerating, check out my wife's Facebook page. She has pictures to prove it. I think the caption reads "What happens when the military fights bees." It worked, finally.

I've Fallen

2013-09-20T23:14:00.001-04:00

There are times that I feel like a kid. Then, reality will rear its ugly head. Realizing that you are not as young and resilient as you once were, is just one of the problems a person must face. I've ignored those little signs in the past. There was a time where nothing bothered me, physically. Now, things hurt a little more than they use to. Unfortunately, I had a crash course on that problem this past weekend. I was going down the steps to our bedroom. My foot slid out from under me and I landed flat on my back. That would have been bad enough, but I was at the top of the steps. I slid all the way to the bottom, my head bouncing off each step. I'm certain my head smacked 13 times. My children consider sliding down the steps an enjoyable sport. I have to continuously yell at them for playing on the stairs. They slide down on their bellies and backs, laughing manically. My feelings are definitely different.
There I was lying at the foot of the stairs trying to catch my breath, and take inventory. Anyone that has taken a hard fall has done the same thing. Ive dealt with enough serious injuries in my day. There was no way I was moving, until I was certain there were no bones broken, or that my neck wasn't at a weird angle. Several minutes passed before I allowed myself to relax. The hour was late. Thankfully the rest of the family was sound asleep. None of my family was there to see me sprawled out like a Crash Test Dummy. The cat was there starring at me from the book shelf. Can cats snicker and grin? I would have sworn ours did.
Certain I was in the right number of pieces, extra parts would have meant a big problem, I slowly got up. I used the wall and chair to do it. I'm certain I grunted, groaned, and cursed my way to the bedroom. There were no children about; it was okay for me to do it. The injuries weren't bad, sorry lieutenants. I am still tougher than that. But, it did make me think. There have been times when I took far worse tumbles, from greater distances, and higher velocity. Granted, some of them involved the heavy consumption of alcohol. Others, they just involved the stupidity of youth. Each episode seemed to result in minor scrapes and bruises.
My muscles were tightening as I lay in bed contemplating my situation. My mind wandered through all the bad things that my body had been subject to. There seemed to be an endless number of things. Around nine, I wanted to be a stuntman. Endless hours were spent wrecking my bike, jumping out of the barn onto hay bales, with other tumbles and falls. That dream only lasted a summer, but I put my young body through the ringer. Band-aids and hot baths fixed it all then. I'm sure my body will feel the effects later in life. A cane will probably be the results. I wonder if I can get one that looks like a light saber, or a giant thigh bone?

Besides the rigors of military life; thee has been a lot of drunken stunts, and years of fighting in medieval reenactment battles. None of these are conducive to a gently life in my twilight years. Running around in 75 lbs of armor beating on people, gave me almost as many injuries as chasing bad guys in foreign lands. Both required physical exertion that most normal people avoid. Is it bad that your hobbies are almost as dangerous as your job? Maybe, but what fun they have been.
My bones do creek now. All my joints hurt a little when the weather is bad. I Haven't heard been able to turn my neck as far as most people can in years. The medicine cabinet is now filled with actual medicines, not those other things. Despite this, I want to stay as active as I can. I like to think of Lonesome Dove as I get older. They were crazy old men. But they were tough old men. Age is creeping up on me, but I am still a long way from the grave. Maybe I should check into skydiving, deep sea salvage. They could be fun.

Are You a Good Samaritan?

2013-08-19T11:03:00.001-04:00

Today was not one of those days when I felt like a knight and protector to my wife and children. Instead I was the court jester. The fool to some of you. Yea I think the fool was more of it. I was taking the children to church this morning by myself. My wife had homework and a paper that had to be finished. A quick stop by the ATM for cash to get gas and the offering. Then, we are on the way. At least, I thought we were. I should have listened to my gut, but I didn't. I ran out of gas.
It has been a long time since that happened to me. It definitely never happened to me on a busy street, in the middle of the day. There weren't three upset children in the vehicle when I did before. I had to call my wife and have her bring the gas can for me. She quickly raced to the rescue. She brought a full gas can, allowing me to take the children to church before they revolted. Supermom saved the day. Luckily, this allowed us to make it on time. Not much of a story. However, there is more to it.
Today gave me a new perspective on the kindness of my fellow man. I know the road was busy and people were rushing to services at various churches in the area. Cars and trucks sped by us, even with my truck blocking one full lane of traffic. I can understand someone not wanting to stop for me. I can be a little scary looking at times. I thought three little girls hanging out the windows might change someone's mind. Most people drove past giving us nasty looks, like I had done it on purpose. Yea folks, that is my idea of a good time. I try to plan ways to break down and cause issues for the masses. I threw in three upset girls for effect.
My faith was restored by a few individuals that stopped. There were not the people you would expect, but maybe they were. Most of the people who stopped where not the well off people that could afford it. There were several elderly couples. They offered to take me to get some gas. I thanked them for the offers but pointed out the fact I had three girls sitting there crying about being late for services. Each wished me luck, one even offered to go get drinks for the girls. I declined. Children trapped in truck was bad enough. Them filled with water or juice, that was a disaster waiting to explode.
The second type of individuals to stop were even more surprising. These individuals looked as if they could barely afford to pay attention. They drove vehicles that looked as if they would fall apart at any moment. One of them even sounded as if it was ready to do just that. However, each of them took pity and stopped to try and help. Two ladies had a car full of children as well. They wished me luck when I told them I didn't have a gas can and that my wife was on the way.

To be fair a few people did slow down and ask if they could call me a tow truck. These were the people in the newer SUV's and minivans. I could tell they were on the way to church or some other important. I know I was an inconvenience for you. Any help is better than none. However when offer assistance, don't make them feel worse for you being there. A person in distress is not taking your order at McDonalds. At least take the time to stop and speak. Don't just wave your cell phone at them and drive off.
For all those of you that didn't stop shame on you. All you would be "Good Samaritans," I laugh at you. You love to go to church and tell people what good people you are. Many of you gave me the dirtest looks as you drove past. I even knew some of you. Next time you see someone in need. Help them. Don't drive past and talk about how terrible that must be. Next time it could be. You would hate for someone to drive past and throw a lemon at you.

Why Isn't It Fair?

2013-08-09T23:16:00.001-04:00

"Its not fair!" a little boy shouts as he is escorted inside by his mother to dinner. His friends stand there staring as their friend disappears into the house. They shrug theirs shoulders and get back to the game. All of them are happy it wasnt them. Yet, they know soon it will be their turn to leave. Most will simply wave goodbye and head off. The few remaining, throw a fit like the first child and storm off. If they were cartoons, you would see the steam cloud billowing above their heads.
That phrase, "Its not fair!" is something you would think only a mad child might use. Okay, lets not forget the teenagers. Adults are always unfair to them. It isnt a phrase you expect to hear from adults. Unfortunately, too many of Americans feel that everything should happen exactly as they envision it. I am not sure, if this is due to a feeling of entitlement we have. I have heard too many people say "They owe me!" Who is the, "They?" Why would they owe a young nineteen or twenty-year old something? They havent been around long enough to accrue much of a debt owed them. Did their parents double-down and pass the winning credit on to them?
I have known young men and women that have lost limbs in the service. You would be surprised at how many of them feel guilty they didnt do all they could. They feel they let their comrades and the country down because they didnt finish their tour. These individuals could lie around whining, waiting for someone to care for them. Instead, they do their therapy and try to return to their old lives. Many of them excelling at jobs, despite challenges.
That is why it burns me up when a healthy person cries "Thats Not Fair." Usually, it is due to some fault of their own. I hear it all the time when a customer is charged a late fee for not making a payment on time. It amazes me the reasons that they come up with. I have heard everything from "I was on vacation for 2 months traveling through Europe." Sorry! Another favorite is "My Dog ate my Ipad." Seriously, are we back in high school? Folks take some responsibility for what you do. Admit you forgot and accept the consequences of your actions.
The words are used by people when they envy what someone else has, or has achieved. "Thats not fair they have that." You know my friend, get off your backside and get to work. You can earn a lot more, if you actually go to work. I have seen so many people that want simple jobs that pay, minimum wage, just because they have no responsibility. Yet, these are the same people that want a new car, fancy home, and all the latest gadgets. My wife and I both have full time jobs, and I am in the National Guard. We cant afford all that. How can someone that spends their life attached to an Xbox expect to?
I am far from a man that will ever own a yacht. Not that that wouldnt be nice. The choices I made in life did not take me down that path. I have no desire to be filthy rich. I would settle for comfortable. There are still choices I can make that will make life better for my family. I will not begrudge the man, driving the Porsche, his toys. I may hope his taupe flies off at an inappropriate moment. That is mainly because that would be hilarious.
We must take responsibility for our choices and actions. Other people didnt force you to do the things you have done. No one made you spend all that money on objects you do not need, or can afford. Nor, did they force you to sit at home watching Gilligans Island instead of doing something with life. The choices were yours. Choose what is fair, for you.

He's Watching You!

2013-08-05T22:57:00.001-04:00

There are several times of year that I will not go near the mall, or Wal-mart. Not that I enjoy going to either of them normally. One of those times is Christmas of course. There is nothing worse than people filled with that holiday spirit of "Must Buy! Must Have!" A person takes their life into their own hands shopping then. If you do not believe me, go out on Black Friday and watch. I have seen combat zones that are friendlier.
I talk of something almost as sinister. It is the Tax Free weekend. Im not sure how many states have this. Tennessee definitely does. This weekend is set so that parents can buy the clothes and school supplies their children need, without paying any taxes. It is a great help. Everyone with children knows how expensive getting ready for the school year can be. Any penny you can save can be spent later. Especially, when they bring home the fund raisers. You have to buy that case of candy bars that they have to sell for school. Yours may be selling cookies, or wrapping paper.
The sale, unfortunately, only lasts for one weekend. You can imagine the pandemonium that unleashes. My wife has told me horror stories about it. This is from a woman that has braved the midnight sales at Best Buy and other major locations. She made an excellent decision to do the shopping early this year. We took the children shopping several weeks prior to the sale. There had to be a lot less stress. I can only imagine trying to keep up with three children in that chaos. I'm usually gone with the military, have to clean the gutters, mow the lawn, or anything else that keeps me away from shopping.
I am probably like most husbands. We have a great fear of the ferocious beasts that roam the floors of sales. They are the dreaded Matriarcus Severus. This creature has the ability to take a persons arm off at the elbow with 1 bite. Especially if it is reaching into a sale bin. Don't you dare reach for that last pair of size two sparkly sketchers. There may be more than one waiting to pounce open the prize. I would rather be caught in an ambush than deal with that tenacity.
My twisted mind can see some mothers planning their attack strategy for weeks, prior to the sale. They have their primary and secondary routes prepared, along with the quickest exit routes. This is the type of person I see speeding through the parking lot in a supped up minivan. She does a power slide into a parking space, cutting off another such vehicle. Before the engine dies, she is doing a power slide over the hood. The side door slides open, as four children dressed as ninjas come rolling out. They all sprint into the store, scattering shoppers as they burst in.

Getting children ready for school is stressful enough. They want the most current and fashionable apparel and supplies. I didn't know you had stick glue with different colored caps. God help you if you don't get the right color. We shouldn't be nasty parents in the process. Our children are watching us. Lets help each other out. They are learning from us. Remember, Santa is always watching. He knows, if you are good or bad.

A Slow Rock to Nowhere

2013-07-25T22:45:00.002-04:00

I write a lot about the past. I think sometimes we rely too much on technology and have lost the personal touch with people. You dont see neighbors visiting each other much anymore. You cant sip iced tea on the porch online. Well maybe you can now, if your wireless network reaches that far. But, it isnt as much fun. You dont get to see your friends expression when you start telling wild stories about his youth to his current love interest.
However, I do realize I cant live in the old days. We must constantly move forward or shrivel up and blow away. I have seen it throughout my life. My mind pays more attention to it, since I am growing older. People who seem to keep active are the ones that survive into their late 80s and 90s. Im not talking about the fitness freaks that jog 14 miles a day that eat only organic seaweed. The individuals I talk about are those that find an activity that keeps their minds and bodies active.
Watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy are not the kind of activities I allude to. Neither is spending most of the day watching life float past your front porch. There is little stimulation there. A person must work their mind, body, and soul to survive beyond retirement. Personally, I want to be embarrassing my children and grandchildren into my eighties. Grandpa with his motorcycle, what fun?
Most of the people I have seen survive, to late in life, spend time doing things. They are always visiting friends, volunteering to help others, or farming. They dont live thinking of the past and that life is over. They find new and exciting things to challenge them. I have even seen many of the, Elderly, on the social media. These people accept the changes and use them to their advantages. There are even dating sites for people over sixty. I havent been brave enough to see what interest they list. I might be traumatized.
There is a lot that can be learned from people that stay young. Communities can learn from them as well. There are too many towns and cities dying off. These places are stuck in the glory of their past. All they know is what use to be. I have seen so many of the small towns, from the area where I grew up, slowly sliding into oblivion. The coal industry is a shadow of what it once was. It has been replaced by cleaner fuels. The jobs are gone. So are the younger people that were the work force.
This shouldnt happen. There are some beautiful areas in those mountains. Many of the towns could revamp and find new life. Like the people that excel later in life, they need to embrace the future. I believe the mountains of Southwestern Virginia could be a tourist hotspot for the younger generations looking for fun, excitement, adventure, and relaxation. Im not talking a "Deliverance" weekend. However, I am sure they can hear some good banjo music while traveling through the area.
There is plenty of beautiful forest and mountains for hiking and camping. There are arts and crafts that were passed down through the generations. No, not just shine recipes. There is nothing like the home cooking to put some weight on those skinny hikers from the suburbs, out trying to get back to nature. There is no denying our culture and music is unique. People would be lined up to spend their money to experience life in the mountains.
Unfortunately, the communities are like the old man sitting on the porch. He loves to sit and watch the world as it passes by. Stop and talk to him. Hell gladly tell you about how good things use to be. Hell tell you how life is so bad now. Theres nothing as good as it use to be. You better listen close. The old man wont talk to you too long. He has to get back inside and watch his shows. It helps him forget what was and those that have left him behind.

Thanks for the Invitation

2013-07-18T09:49:00.001-04:00

Facebook is an excellent source of material for me to write about. I know I will anger several people with what I am writing. I expect the hate email to pile up after I post this. People do get rather upset when you point out problems with new ways of life. All I have to say about that is, "Bring it on!" I have a delete button, and I am not afraid to use it.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not against the social media. I have an account myself. It is wonderful. I have been able to get in contact with old friends from high school, college and the military. There were a few of us that thought each other had been killed or died of some exotic poison in the past 20 years or better. This would have been impossible 10 years ago. Today, even 90 year old grandparents keep in touch with their families through Facebook.
Instead, I refer to those people that tell us everything they do online. Personally, I don't want to hear about you going to the grocery store for the third time, because your spouse got the wrong type of toilet paper. I definitely do not want to hear about your bowel movements. I know there are people that like to share all aspects of their lives. I do caution you to not share as much as some of you do. It gets annoying, and there could be repercussions to over sharing.
You might ask, "How is that, Matt?"
I am no criminal, although I have been told I think like one at times. I have seen posts like this before: "Just dropped the dog off at GMs. We are headed on vacation for the next 2 weeks. We cant wait to get to Cancun." Its great to see pictures of peoples vacations in nice exotic locales. However, you may want to wait until you get back. Not all 596 people on your friends list are as reputable as you might think.
I know some of you have that bellyache face try to understand what I am talking about. Let me break it down for you. First, too many of you have put personal information on the site. How many people are able to see exactly where you live? I can google your house and get directions straight to it, maybe even a picture. Then, I just program it into my GPS and who is knocking at the door.
Think about that and look at the post, "Just dropped the dog off at GMs." I'm sure your Grandmother will be happy for the company. Unfortunately, the not so honest see something else in that message. "There wont be a dog there to bite me in the butt when I climb through the window."
"We are headed on vacation for the next 2 weeks." This means several things. The culprits have time to case the house. They also have several days to get the stuff out. It may take a few trips to get out the big screen televisions and your families 100 year old silverware. I wouldn't care if they got my week old plastic ware.
The last comment says even more. "We cant wait to get to Cancun"Not many people can afford to go there, let alone for two weeks. This says, We have some money and good stuff. The thieves will not be expecting to get cheap stuff from discount stores. Additional, it is very unlikely that you will be coming home unexpectedly. You aren't just around the corner at your sister Martha's house. Their minds are at ease.
Don't stop sharing those special moments and embarrassing stories. Those are the things that make us smile. Its wonderful to see pictures of loved ones and friends. I just ask you not to share every detail about your life. There are people out there looking for those little tidbits of information. Think before you post. You don't want a good time to turn into a bad day.

Out of the Gene Pool !

2013-07-14T15:01:00.001-04:00

I am amazed at many of the things that make the news these days. There are so many important events going on in the world that some of the things I have read about amaze me. I cannot believe they made it into print. Sometimes it is hard for me to have sympathy for someone that has decided to do one of the, "less intelligent," things in life. I think of many of the old redneck friends I had growing up. There were many stupid ideas we had. The phrase "It seemed like a good idea at the time," always was muttered after someone was hurt. I wonder how many other people have used that phrase.
You think I might be exaggerating. All you have to do is subscribe to 'News of the Weird.' This is filled with the weird and ridiculous that has been reported on throughout the world. You have everything from the worlds dumbest criminals to politicians who should have never been elected. Some of these individuals are poster children for birth control, or even forced sterilization. I have cringed and shook my head on more than one occasion after reading an article.
There have been several examples of the "Good Idea Fairy" at work. If you don't know what that is, you are lucky. It is that little invisible fairy that floats around a room whispering ideas quietly in one's ear. She usually has an over abundance of ideas. Many of them have no relevance to the subject or task at hand. Hopefully, there is always someone there with common sense to swat her down.
Here are a few examples of people that should have never listened to the good idea fairy, or their redneck friends. A woman in Texas recently burned down her own home trying to kill a snake in the yard. She poured gasoline on the snake and had her son toss a lit match upon it. Surprisingly, the snake took off. It's flaming body set brush, and her house on fire. I might not be a fan of snakes, but that would not be my first choice to kill it. A hoe, shovel, or rake would have been an easier choice. Don't say you wouldn't get that close. She had to be right on top of it to pour gas on it.
There was an article today about a woman from Australia being gored while running with the bulls in Pamplona. That definitely registers as a 'Bubba' moment. I can't say I haven't done my share of stupid things. No person in their right mind crawls through a minefield for fun. But, I have never had a desire to sprint down narrow streets ahead of angry bulls. It isn't like there are people gored or trampled each year doing this. I am sure she had a friend standing there with her going, "It seemed like a good idea." There is always one of those people around.

I don't believe the media breeds bad ideas. I'm certain that the human race is able to come up with those on their own. The 'bat bombs' of WWII were a prime example. There are times I wonder. Does printed or showing these stories encourage those already prone to commit random acts of insanity? Should we stop printing them? I think Darwin was right. There are no more predators for us to worry about. This could be how the 'gene pool' gets cleaned out these days.

A Father to Remember.

2013-07-12T19:51:00.000-04:00

An old friend of mine posted a video on Facebook earlier. It almost made me cry. I was really choked up watching it. The man in that video is an example I hope to emulate as a father. Don't get me wrong. There are many parents out there that are giving everything they have to feed and cloth their families. I have no desire to belittle the sacrifices that they make everyday for their families. They are heroes as well. Unfortunately, it is hard to place their daily devotion on a four minute video.
I consider myself a a descent father and a man that is is good shape for a 45 year old man. This man puts me to shame. I don't know his age. It doesn't matter. What he accomplished is impressive at any age. Apparently, his son wanted the two of them to compete in an Ironman competition together. Simply competing as a Father and Son is impressive enough. There are many healthy young men and women that never complete the race. It involves a marathon run, a swim designed for sharks, and a bike ride from Hell. Doing all that with a paralyzed child is phenomenal.
I don't know the man's name. It doesn't matter. His actions are more important than his name. To be able to even try and compete in the Ironman, took dedication. The father had to spend endless hours training with his child. Even if he had trained on his own, it would not have prepared him for the reality of the competition with his son involved. The video showed him towing his son in a rubber raft through the 2.5 mile swim. I have never swam that far in my life. I cannot even imagine trying that, especially with me trying to pull a raft behind.
Straight from the water, the father picked up his son and ran several hundred yards to begin a grueling bike race. Not only did the man pick up his son. He cradled him in his arms as he sprinted to the bike. The love was apparent there. His son smiled as he was strapped into a special seat on the front of the bike. His dad went the extra step here. He placed his son in the front, not the back. I'm sure it gave the boy more of the feeling of being involved. He wasn't simply along for the ride.
Without a chance for pause, the team went straight from the bike race to the 26.2 marathon. The pride and happiness shown on the child's face. The father's visage was beaming pain and determination as he strapped his son in the chair. There were times when he was almost walking pushing the special chair up hills. Other times, he was almost sprinted toward the goal. His son smiled encouragement to him.
It was well after dark before they crossed the finish line. Hundreds of people stood encouraging them on. tears of joy ran down both their faces as they crossed the line. The father hugged and kissed his inspiration. A smiled crossed the younger man's face. The smile spoke volumes. "See Dad, I knew you could do it. Thank you for helping me do it. You are my Hero, Dad."
If that doesn't touch your heart, I don't know what will. The Grinch would melt seeing that. This man didn't save the lives of hundreds. He didn't fight some war for God and country. However, he did more. He gave a chance to smile, and a memory that he will never forget. May we all give our children such pleasant memories to remember us by.

Dial 911?

2013-07-10T15:41:00.003-04:00

I have just finished my two weeks Annual training for the National Guard. I know that 25 years is a long time. Many things change in that period of time. I didn't expect the military to change as much as it has. Most of that change has occurred in the last ten years. Before you start speculating, this has nothing to do with the military openly accepting gay soldiers. That doesn't bother me. I have known that they were a part of our armed forces since, I was a wee young soldier. It never bothered me. This is more about the difference in the soldiers from the time of the Cold War to now.
I noticed an interesting fact while I was sitting in the Chow Hall, sipping on my coffee. It is a morning ritual that most of us old dinosaurs share. While enjoying the extremely bitter brew that this Mess had concocted, I began to really look at the young soldiers around me. When I was a young pup every soldier carried a knife. For many, it was as simple as a pocket knife. In my day, almost every young boy had been given a pocket knife by the time they were 12 years old. It was a rite of passage most boys that lived in the country. This showed that your parents trusted you not cut off anything important; and that you were coming into adulthood. Today, I guess it would be a playstaion, xbox, or their first laptop.
Every soldier I knew carried a pocket knife, or even better, a Buck knife on his belt. There was always a need for a knife to cut things in those days, or for self defense. The knives seemed to get bigger and bigger as manufactures produced larger folding blades. The knives became so large, that the military felt a need to limit the size and length of them. I believe the maximum length was a 6 inch blade. This stopped some of the soldiers that were trying to make-up for other inadequacies by carrying small swords.
Those were quickly replaced by the Leathermen and Gerbers. Having a pliers, a screwdriver, and wire cutters beat having a big blade in most circumstances. I know there a few nasty places that I could still be trapped in, if it weren't for these wonderful tools. The leather knife holsters were quickly replaced with these cloth cases. They became so common that the Army started issuing them to certain types of soldiers. There aren't many combat soldiers, I know, that don't still carry one.
Unlike the troops that have returned from multiple deployments, the new soldiers are very different. I ave had those "Computer Geeks" in my platoon before. You know those kids. They can make a computer do anything, except make a decent cup of coffee. Today's younger soldiers all seem to be of that caliber, at least they think they are. The days of 'Chest Thumping Neandethals' is coming to a close. I seldom hear soldiers bragging about how much they can bench press anymore. Too many prefer to relate to their powers as an operative on "Ghost Assassin," or something in that genre.
Everyone of them has a laptop, cell phone, and God knows what other gadgets. Now, when you turn the lights out in a barracks, you have to tell them to quit texting. I'm not kidding. The dings and whistles can drive you nuts in the dark. I think I threatened to end the lives of some of these devices, and their owners recently. These are the same soldiers that replaced the knife and gerber on their belts with a cell phone carrier.
I pointed out this fact to one of my fellow relics. We sat there sipping coffee counting the number of phone holsters we saw pass our table. I think we quit somewhere around 40 or 50. My fellow Non-Commissioned Officer shook his head in dismay. "What are they going to do if they get in trouble?" he asked me.
I shook my head. I had no answer for him. He answered for me. "We at least carry something that we can cut our way out something not too bad. Or, we can fix a minor problem. What are they gonna' do? Call AAA or 911?"
I know he was dead serious. He shouldn't have said it while I was taking a drink. I almost choked. He was right. I could see one of them trying to use their cell phone to call for help when things went bad. The rockets coming in and some kid online with 911. I can hear the operator now. "This is 911. What is your emergency?" BOOM!