Searching For A Better Way
Our Soldiers
I'm blogging from California because I am out her doing some last minute work with a client before I have a child and no longer care. That sentence reads wrong and I'm not sure it conveys the meaning I intend, but I will let it stand as I have nothing better in my brain today. For a sober man I am rather stoned on Vicodin. At what point of taking this stuff will I need a new desire chip and to restart my sobriety clock?
That is a rhetorical question, I hope. This is by perscription and for agony. The airline flights were not comfortable. No matter what I did: pillow under arm, arm over head, hand on lap, hand on neighboring woman's breast, etc., it hurt terribly. And you won't believe this; after I tell that lady that my arm hurts and that I'm not making a pass at her, I'm just trying to get comfortable and put my hand on her breast - she elbows me! Right in the gut! Okay, I'm full of it. That is pure nonsense. I'm not the kind of guy who fakes discomfort so I can grope strange women. At least not frequently.
Leaving behind the delightful subject of mammary glands, I saw a lot of soldiers in the airports. Obviously on leave; still dressed in desert khakis. Most of them were in groups of two and threes. All had sunbaked faces, deep brown. The African-Americans had a shiny ebony hue to their skin from hours in the desert sun. Does the army give them new boots when they go on leave? All appeared to have brand new leather boots on.
I know this is the result of the fact that I am older than most of them by at least a decade but they looked so terribly young. They made me think of kids playing soldier, dressing in the uniform, but that was not the case. This was real and these are real human beings with real feelings and emotions. I was swept with a wave of awe and then gratitude. These are the people who volunteered to serve their country. These are heroes.
They are all handsome in their own way; or beautiful in the case of the female soldiers. I wanted to tell them how grateful I was for their service.
They deserve better than what they get from our nation's leaders.
That is a rhetorical question, I hope. This is by perscription and for agony. The airline flights were not comfortable. No matter what I did: pillow under arm, arm over head, hand on lap, hand on neighboring woman's breast, etc., it hurt terribly. And you won't believe this; after I tell that lady that my arm hurts and that I'm not making a pass at her, I'm just trying to get comfortable and put my hand on her breast - she elbows me! Right in the gut! Okay, I'm full of it. That is pure nonsense. I'm not the kind of guy who fakes discomfort so I can grope strange women. At least not frequently.
Leaving behind the delightful subject of mammary glands, I saw a lot of soldiers in the airports. Obviously on leave; still dressed in desert khakis. Most of them were in groups of two and threes. All had sunbaked faces, deep brown. The African-Americans had a shiny ebony hue to their skin from hours in the desert sun. Does the army give them new boots when they go on leave? All appeared to have brand new leather boots on.
I know this is the result of the fact that I am older than most of them by at least a decade but they looked so terribly young. They made me think of kids playing soldier, dressing in the uniform, but that was not the case. This was real and these are real human beings with real feelings and emotions. I was swept with a wave of awe and then gratitude. These are the people who volunteered to serve their country. These are heroes.
They are all handsome in their own way; or beautiful in the case of the female soldiers. I wanted to tell them how grateful I was for their service.
They deserve better than what they get from our nation's leaders.
posted by Andy Ternay at 9:08 AM
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