Tuesday Lunchtime


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I miss being in my old military tribe.  No, I’m not talking about the new age command structure founded by Tony McPeak, his US Navy officer dress uniforms and his manly man tee shirt look.  I’m also not talking about the new age Air Force with their cool looking Warsaw Pact uniforms and green boots.

I miss the dark humor that we had and share when I talk with other vets.  I get some very strange looks whenever I try to use it with civilians.  I miss the secret language that we had and used with one another.  I miss my friends that had my back just as much as I had theirs.  I miss the feeling of being ready to take on the bear.  I miss chatting it up with friends and others who could relate and experienced the same thing.

Mostly, I miss a society that made sense and someone was in charge.  I miss being a part of something where we would look out and wonder why people were getting so wrapped around the axle about stupid shit and there is a lot of stupid shit going on.  I literally cringe every time someone says “Thank you for your service.”  It just creeps me out and I wish people would just stop saying it.  I wish someone … anyone … would just step up and say “Enough of this fracturing because it’s hurting us more than helping us.”  But I know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

A cabin up by White Fish sounds good to me right now.

Sunday Night


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I spent most of the day cleaning out flower beds and bagging up leaves.  It’s depressing for me.  Cleaning out the marigolds from this year signals another finality of growing as I once again cast the season to the winds.  Another year repeating the cycle from the years before.  Another year of growing turned into memories.  It reminds me of my mortality since I’ve enter the Autumn of my life.