Recently had the opportunity to converse with a Soldier of God! He was down from the Colorado Springs, Colorado, official headquarters for a few days with some other Soldiers of the Deity looking for new candidates. Fortunately, my college attendance has let to interesting discussions with Holy Hubert, Brother Jed, Sister Disco Cindy and a myriad of others trying to convince us all college womens were whores and guys weren't much better. Of course, if we accept their hands on words, provide money and give each month then life will be better than living in the hedonistic life of pleasure.
My first reaction to this was what a racket, but the entertainment was fun! Brother Jed couldn't get his stories straight since he graduated from high scholl in the early 60s, started college, dropped out and then traveled around the world. Of course, the logical questions posed by yours truly was "why weren't you drafted?". Well, Jed hmmmed and hawwwwed finally stating he would have served his country. I retorted all this was well, but how had he got out of the draft? Further, I related what had been learned from Jed's visits for the 4 years he had appeared and focused the timeline he had provided to him. Jed couldn't really answer since it was obvious he had pull from somewhere that had kept him out of the Selective Service System, but it did deter his ability to call anyone names for awhile. For drama, we would position a disabled Vet near him who would just sit and look. If Jed started to return to the old ways, the Vet would ask about the draft again and mention it was too bad they couldn't trade places. Finally, Jed left with Sister Disco Cindy for newer pastures to spread their word. We waved goodbye as they departed in the new Cadillac wearing Italian suits, silk shirts and nice jewelry. Really miss their word since good bs is hard to find; oops, going to miss a Bush speech.
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A Story copyrighted by me, all rights reserved, 2005 (the legal stuff)
I remember sittng at a hometown bus stop just a few days after returning from Nam. My skin was still an off-yellow from the horse pills, everything caught my attention and too many pounds had been lost since the last home return three years ago.
An elderly woman cautiously sat down beside me on the bench and at first, took only furtive glances. A few moments later, she leaned over and inquired of my health due to obvious appearance. I assured her I was fine and needed only a few months of Grandma's tender loving care and good field work to regain normal vigor.
Not content with that, she doggedly pursued one line of questioning after another I finally interrupted and asked what she really wanted of me?
The woman looked deeply into my troubled eyes and spat out: "your skin color, the nervousness, back from the war, just another doper, ehhhhhh!"
Not content, she continued on, "are you one of those pot smoking, deranged Vietnam Veterans, well??"
"Ma'am, I just came back and only want to get it together again, okay," I passively replied.
She gave me a hard angry stare, those rose with a biblical fury pointng a finger at me emulating a prophet of old. God, she remeinded me of Vietnamese Elders who would do the same each time Americans entered their village. My eyes rilled to the sky as painful memories of death, body bags and friends returned.
"Your type ruin our beautiful country," the matron loudly proclaimed, snapping me back into her reality again.
"Why don't you just leave," the vigilante continued "leave here now and join the rest of your pot smoking friends in Canada."
There were no tears left. I silently stood, gazed at this rock of hollow patriorism and simply walked away. Sounds and memories cling to me as if I am their only friend. I could hear the taunting Vietnamese cacophony as we were leaving their village; and now as I leave THEIR bus stop. It reverberated and found roots in my consciousness.
Where is home today and where can it be tomorrow were the only thoughts in my mind.
I didn't have the heart to tell her on thing. You see, she was the nurse who helped my Mother during those long labor hours eventually bringing me into this world during a raging blizzard on a cold Iowa day. Now, she cast me out with far less difficulty and compassion. The circle had come completely around.
That warm winter day at the bus stop was even chillier after that.
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Find a time to give your own personal thanks this Memorial Day Weekend to those who gave their lives for this nation.
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