Michael Jackson worked himself to death...

My wife wanted to see "This is it" by and with and all about Michael Jackson, and so we did. I am sure having worn myself out while watching the performance that he worked himself to death on those stages. I think four of the ladies on stage with him were of note and that was it. We paid only Senior rate so it was worth it.

The other reasons to go to the movies, popcorn, we passed on. But the previews were interesting. Disney continues PC cartoons "The Princess and the Frog". Robert Downey Jr, looks like he is trying to act greatly again in "Sherlock Holmes" oh, Jude Law, is in it - I had missed that - it should be almost Steampunk. The last and best movie of science fiction, created with science fiction is "AVATAR" and except for Hollywood predictability it should be a great ride, and one can only hope everyone remembers that it is just a movie. We already know how race relations work on the evolutionary scale in humans, with another biology they think to find a difference? Still I already have room in my budget for the movie, the DVD and watching way too much.

I have been picking at my wounds again...

That one left over from Vietnam, about this time every year I pick on it running it over and over in my mind. It is Veterans Day, Mister Vu from the Law Library is one. And I am also and have mentioned it before, but I feel like everyone is - so it isn't special, but it seems to be growing unique.

They had a tribute to the veterans on McNeil Island yesterday, the lady that has been working on it really out did all expectations, and from one to three o'clock there were food and thoughts (guest speaker) for the veterans to share. I missed it, the same way I became a veteran - I served, the impatient patrons of my library, the one man show has to be there -- like the life one leaves to go out in service to the Nation in War, you have to leave normal and find the acid that will etch upon your life things that will only be you and the band of brothers and sisters that were there then.

I hadn't done much in Vietnam, the war was winding down, and the first position and unit I was assigned to was pulled and the colors sent back Stateside, the short-timers were sent back, too. Those like myself were given new units to join and continue the fight - or another unit to pack up and send back. I had ten months on Firebase Phoenix and as I was departing they got to pack up. I still remember the infantry platoon that came to the firebase to provide security, skinny worn young old men, they should have been boys. One asked if he could use our shower - an oil drum with a showerhead, and a powder canister to burn diesel in for hot water, I showed him how to light it up for that shower. I watched in amazement as the slicks brought all their mail in - they had been piling it up until they got to a basecamp and they had been out long. Not everyone is in the same war, but they serve.

My war wound was in the return to the United States, fly forever across the Pacific and land in Washington State - I don't know if it was McChord Air Force Base or Sea-Tac Airport, it was dark and we loaded buses to go to Fort Lewis and process out. At the post we unloaded, lined up, were briefed and taken for measuring and paperwork check, then we were given a really great Steak dinner with ice cream and pie for desert. I do know I have seldom have had anything in military dining to match that meal, but I was alone with strangers and I have always remembered it was all dark of the night stuff and any conversation was just above whispers. We got to nap/sleep somewhere and then shave shower and dress in the new class A uniforms with all awards decorations, rank, name tag. We were given our records (sealed) orders to next assignment and a thirty day leave with an airplane ticket to closest major airport home. Quietly loaded on civilian buses and dropped off to catch our flights.

There was one stop on my way back to Pittsburgh airport, must have been Chicago or Minneapolis and many people got up and off there. One woman, her daughter and hovering husband approached me. The lady leaned towards me and said they wanted to thank me for my service in Vietnam. I was stunned, the tough guy the veteran of whatever had just been wounded, and I never said anything as my mind tried to put my time in Vietnam with this lady and her family. She didn't know, she couldn't understand and I wasn't ready to live among civilized society I guess. So among the millions of Americans, the media, the hippie culture and the 'me first' folks - one lady reached out and touched me through all my armor and I will always bear the scar. I wish I knew she knew that was the best welcome I would receive for years for my service. That is the thank you that has always meant the most and I pick at it every Veteran's Day.

The totally artful self portrait I share is what I thought of me, in the mirror upon the shower behind our personnel bunker in Vietnam, I was that much of a mess.

Okay, Happy Birthday, MARINES!

Probably one of the few things I am jealous of the US Marine Corps is that they really know how to celebrate their birthday - the Army has buried its under Flag Day I think, and for some reason they don't know how to party.

So today, for a force that began in a tavern, Happy Birthday! from a former paratrooper, who was always glad to be shot at along side you, wouldn't have wished it any other way.

Just keeping you posted...

Seems our Program Manager is caught in Florida, flight grounded by high winds which we shan't name. She has to catch a later flight this week. The rains will be here, although they say Thursday will have a break. The rains come in bands like waves upon the beach and I did jog and walk yesterday but then was well soaked in the evening drive. I have lost, last week, one of my better workers to the Chain Bus, he had to move on to Monroe Corrections Complex. That made me short, and sure enough one of my other better workers has two afternoons of group counseling to attend every week before the end of December, and yesterday they had the Veterans Banquet - yes, we have Veterans inside our fences that are in State issue serving time, we also have them in Corrections Officer uniform and admin - there are Veterans everywhere - just not as many as there were at the end of the draft in 1973. The Republic of Korea, Israel and Switzerland still have almost universal military service for various reasons.

I had attended for eighteen weeks Infantry OCS at Fort Benning, GA, in the Fall of 1967. Got pretty close with the rest of the platoon. Years later as a First Sergeant I was running the streets of Fort Bragg and saw one of my platoon mates, now a Major in Special Forces and we talked in his office. He had once been visiting a Federal Prison on some mission or other, and had run into one of our platoon mates in the administration of the institution and they talked and caught up, then the administrator, called on a telephone and they brought in a prisoner, who just happened to be one of our platoon mates. Strange, no guarantees of how well you will do, just because you had a chance it all comes back to what you choose to do and act.

Back to reality of today, I had best take out the garbage and get ready to run, have to make better choices, my wife told me no early retirement - I have to keep on keeping on... but the government wants my tax contributions, so I already know. Do remember to honor the service of our vets tomorrow - from this vet it is embarrassing to see free meals and such, but tears flow when the children who I hope never know war say thank you. Their future has always been what it was about, we don't want to dwell on our past.

Hey, Old Timer...

I am very aware of how near retirement and impending doom I am, but I was walking down to the dock in Steilacoom when a bright red BMW pulled off the road and stopped. I walked up and leaned towards the open window, hoping it would be the mythical long legged red head looking for guidance. It wasn't but was a young soldier with sunglasses perched on his head and three metal qualification badges on his digital Desert Camo Uniform, he leaned towards me and asked "Hey, Old Timer, would you like a lift?"

As soon as "Old Timer" came out I was thinking Gabby Hayes and cringing internally in denial. I had just slipped in the movie of my mind from leading man, the hero, to comic relief sidekick, how had that happened? I kind of smiled and told him the walk was my exercise and thanks for the offer, as he sped off I hoped he just wanted to be nice and show off his ride - not that he thought I really needed a ride, I hadn't been limping nor lumbering on. I was enlisted for the Vietnam War in 1967 and stuck around through other military operations to including Desert Shield and Storm in 1990 and '91. But I started putting that life together with riding my motorcycle up behind a car waiting at a stop light, and reading the Memorial tribute in the window, of a young man, born in February of 1991, when I was getting prepared to invade Iraq with the French, that died in our current wars in 2009, he hadn't gotten to nineteen. So in honor of those Veterans, the "Old Timers" everywhere I will tell you about Samuel.

He was born before the turn of the Century, the Eighteenth Century, and grew up big and strong and joined the King's Dragoons to fight in wars on the Continent, against France or Spain. After the first little war he came home and everyone admired the fine Calvary saber with the gold inlay and shining sharpness -- asking how he had come by such a fine saber. He said modestly that a French officer had no further use for it and he had. His military career had gone on and the places would change but Samuel didn't for he went to the sound of the guns. In one of the many wars against France he rode off and came back with a fine pair of horse pistols,matching French pieces. When asked to tell the tale about that, he again replied that the French officer having no further need for them had given them up to him. He couldn't go on being a gallant dragoon forever, so he settled down to a small farm and small wife, raising crops and children and getting old. His years were wearing and he limped a little and later a lot, but there was no quit in him.

On April 19th, 1775 with the country rising up in arms to stop the British regulars Samuel Whittemore took up his musket, his horse pistols and cavalry saber and went out to do battle for his family and neighbors. He took up a strong position behind a stone wall about a hundred and fifty yards from the road and began to fire upon the advancing British redcoats. His fire was effective for they sent a squad of flankers to eliminate the position believing there were several rebels there. Samuel got several shots off from his musket before he had to pick up the pistols, and he got two shots off wounding with one and the other, he was drawing his saber when one of the regulars shot him in the face, taking away part of his jaw. the others quickly bayoneted him about a dozen times and left him for dead, then hurried back to the marching column, not wanting to be left behind in the coming darkness with the rebels everywhere.

Samuel's friends and neighbors came out after they left and went to see what they could do, expecting to find him dead, but they found him trying to re-load. They got a door off a home, laid Samuel on it and took him to Doctor Tufts. They begged the doctor to save him, but the doctor said it was too late, they asked him to try anyway and he did. When he finished he did tell them quietly that Samuel was going to die, he was seventy-eight years old. The doctor was correct Samuel Whittemore died, eighteen years later - scared horribly but always proud of his service to his adopted country and sure that he would do it again if called. A very dangerous old man, the oldest combatant on the field that day.

So the next time you see someone old and almost ancient, smile before you call him "Old Timer", it would be kinder to ask if he could help you -- for he would be glad to be the leading character in the movie of his life.

If you really understand the gun control point...

I am sorry that so many people were killed and wounded at Fort Hood, Texas today, they didn't deserve to be shot up like that. An Army officer did it (but we won't condemn officers) and doctor (but we won't condemn doctors) a shrink (but we won't condemn those that treat mental illness) a Muslim (but we won't condemn Muslims) with semi-automatic pistols with extra loaded magazines (but we won't condemn the firearms nor the bullets). In Texas, home to the Alamo, mythical Lonesome Dove, and cowboy culture there is Fort Hood (named for a fine Rebel general) with signs posted at all the gates that the Commander doesn't permit Concealed Carry and doesn't honor the state's permit to carry, that all weapons are locked up without ammunition, that all personal weapons are registered and locked in quarters or unit arms rooms unless given permission to use them in recreation. Nope, what happened today is what is the weakness in the argument that gun control means fewer deaths and destruction - in Texas that had the Texas Tower shooter, there are points of total gun control where potential victims abound. If those in the processing center had only made it to Indian Country they could have been carrying a weapon with at least twenty rounds as they wore their reflective belt, but they were being protected by foolish words and policies that don't bear the name of the commander, only his title.

Just looking at the morning news.... rain... here?

Oh, yeah, the weather for November may be a bit late but it is coming in today, the National Weather map has washed us out with floods and rain. So I drive the Caravan, and walk to the dock directly. As I walk I find a doe about fifteen feet from me, looking at me like I am crazy - she is in the middle of a condo apartment complex and she thinks I am crazy. Well, I do start talking to her, she doesn't know I have my hunting license, but she is kind of stringy, not much on the thighs at all - must be on one of those strange American model diets. But, like real females in my life, as soon as I start talking she turns her head away and starts strutting off to find a finer male... I really ought to take time off and go hunt - the barber in Steilacoom had his shop closed up for deer one weekend and elk another. Well, the walk was good, the work fine. The rains and the wind started beating on Washington and about 11:00 AM the announcement was made that the Still Harbor schedule was in effect.

Still Harbor is on the North side of McNeil Island, a nice harbor, and the seals love it. So because of the fear of getting stuck on an island with terrible weather -- a lot of people left. After lunch the announcements of what was closed, classes canceled, and there was only the State Library (ME!) open for business. Two very packed periods, but the last one was light, but until Recall I was there. The weather did let up a bit, and the ferry came back to normal operations by the time I was leaving, still for only a minute or the afternoon I was still there helping the inmates prepare for re-entry to the community.

I did notify the entire State Library that if they were coming to visit me that the ferry schedule was changed and I attached a copy of it. But no one ever comes, I am always reminded of that famous short story about an outpost, watching the frontier for the enemy, and because the commanders don't come out to visit, inspect nor reward the guards --- the guards feel more friendly to the constantly advancing enemy that at least know he is alive... it will be Veteran's Day soon, don't forget all those that you have sent out to those frontiers to watch and war on our enemies.