Army stories

   On July 2nd, 1980, Jimmy Carter re-established the draft. We weren't at war, but Afghanistan looked problematic, and there was concern that the post-Vietnam armed forces would not be adequate to deal with the situation. So males between eighteen and twenty-six had to register for service. 
Although I was twenty-two, I was grandfathered into the repeal of conscription and didn't have to register. However, like many young men, my brother and his friend Jeff had to.
 They went down to wherever they had to do this thing together. They were always together in my mind. I only saw one with the other. They went in two different directions after this day. Rather than just registering and going about his life's path ( yes, it's all part of one's life path. Shut up. ), my brother joined the army. He became a cook and spent the next two years in Germany.
 Jeff joined the airforce and was kicked out because he went AWOL during boot camp. He wanted to watch a baseball game, snuck out, and got to a local bar, where he was caught. I love that story. He and I became friends ( my friend, as opposed to his, just being my brother's friend ), and later we became roommates, living with my friend and former roommate, Andre, for a year.
 During that year, I attempted to go to college. So I enrolled in Eastern Michigan University, just down the street, taking various philosophy and liberal arts classes. But unfortunately, I was not able to align my working life, my college life, and my generally fucked up life. So it goes. 
  Before this, when I was nineteen or twenty, I experienced a similar ennui and moved to NYC. It was ridiculous. I had no idea what I was doing. I took all my money and just went. I stayed for the first week at a small hotel in Brooklyn Heights, taking daily trips into the city for job and housing searches with side trips for curiosity. I ended up staying with my ex in Queens for a bit, but she finally kicked me out; during that time, the husband of my exes girlfriend and I were talking one day about my life choices, and I had mentioned needing direction and talked about joining the service. 
 He and I grew close during this time. But unfortunately, he had some serious medical problems. He needed marrow transfusions and was obviously close to the end. Still, being Irish, he was as good-humored as he could be, and he seemed to enjoy my complaining about my comparatively more minor problems. He thought I should join the marines and become " the best of the best. " I think he thought I should grab the most out of life possible. But, of course, that is understandable under the circumstances.
 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Fibonacci Blues

 There was a guy, a busker, that I had noticed while driving my cab around Ballard. Apparently, he drank at the Inn Binn on Eighth Avenue, just north of Market Street, and in-between drinks or whatnot, he would stand outside the bar and play his saxophone. He was pretty good, and I was always glad to be stopped at the light there and listen to him play. The song Jazz Man comes to mind now but hadn't in those days. Anyway, one day I got the bell to pick up at the Inn Binn and he was my fare. I told him how much I enjoyed his music and we became friends and he became a regular. During one of our times together, it became obvious that we shared an interest in mathematics and theology and music. Hence The Fibonacci Blues.
Read more

How I Changed the World, and you are welcome,BTW. by Artemis Smith

 My name is Artimus. An unusual name. Growing up with a unique name is problematic. But growing up itself is complex. All that input and trying to make sense of it while your hormones race through your system. Add to that having to deal with other people who have their own ridiculousness, and I'm surprised any of us make it. But here we are. We're alive and still trying to make sense of it all. And at our age...heh. I'm not a Deadhead; I'm not a fan, but Jerry Garcia, bless his soul, once said, " What a long strange trip it's been.". Truer words were never spoken about life. The fact that you are reading this means that your long strange trip is still continuing. " It ain't over 'til it's over, "another wise man ( Yogi Berra ) said. So here we are. Today. Me writing this, and you reading it. And to overuse the whole quote thing, I must thank Janis Joplin for her statement, "It's all the same day, man. " Exactly so. I am ...
Read more

E Pluribus Unum : Out of many one, or in other words, just another pudd'nhead.

 Life. One day you are floating in amniotic fluid at a comfortable temperature, having sustenance provided for you, doing nothing but swimming and learning, a paradise. The next, you are pushed out into a world you know nothing about, with creatures, lights, and noise all doing their best to confuse you. Welcome to the monkey house.  At that moment, that so-called " blessed event, " my life became hell.  I firmly believe that we chose our parents and our potential paths. I chose my father and mother because they seemed strong, supportive, and intelligent. Add to those qualities my father's pragmatism and my mother's humor. There was also an interesting brother and a surprisingly familiar sister in that family.  One thing that you should know about me. I love a challenge. Give me a problem that takes a lot of concentration to solve? I'm in heaven. Fortunately, the family I had chosen to join lived in a central state in a confused and, unfortunately, rich young coun...
Read more