Getting started... the hardest part.
I have been asked to tell some stories, and I always did find it hard to say "no" to anyone - and especially people I like. But first a sort of "Preface" by way of introduction.
Everything I tell about in this and any other story I may originate will, for the record, contain actual names and places as accurately as I can, to the best of my memory and recollection... which is far from perfect, I might add.
I have a tendency to make most things that I've done, experienced, observed, etc, into something funny - you know a joke of some kind, generally for the amusement of others...my audience, as it were.
But here, maybe I'll just let it roll from the head and heart, not knowing whether it will be worth the telling or not.
You see, I feel that only by naming names and real people, places and things; would anything from or about my life have any meaning or relevance at all to anyone.
Whatever I tell here is intended to bear loving witness to all those I encountered along the way, and truth be told - the story is theirs fully as much as mine... just told from my particular viewpoint, is all.
My life has been facilitated and filled by wonderful (for the most part, anyway) colorful folk... many of whom may not have ever been mentioned in writing except for perhaps an entry in the family bible or in some dusty record in some county courthouse somewhere when they were born.
I guess its pretty clear that a successful, live birth of anything is one of the first and most significant EP in a life.
The obituary comemorates another EP... but I'm in no hurry to get to that one! Currently, I'm only a year from the allegedly allotted "threescore and ten" and I was never particularly inclined to haste anyway.
Some of my experiences in the Air National Guard and AF Reserve are worth the telling, I think - but I should start with my first, abortive, military experience.
The young Ethics Particle EPs the ROTC
I went off to Vanderbilt University right out of High School in Southeast Arkansas - simply because a good friend of our family's, Bob Baxter went there, said it was OK and he was in engineering school and taking ROTC.
That all sounded fine to me, so I (we actually - Mother helped - a lot!) filled out some papers, sent them off and that was that.
It took me as long or longer to type this paragraph as the whole decision making process took back then in 1959.
ROTC sounded kind of exciting and I was "up for it"... but it ruined Saturday! We were supposed to march around in the heat and polish brass, shoes, etc.
Weapons were as common as mosquitoes where I was brought up and naturally I loved guns, knives, cars, tools, etc - all that good stuff was well known to me and I was as competent as any adult with such things by then.
But I freakin' HATED my M-1 Garand that, by regulation had to be dismantled and cleaned every week whether it ever left its rack or not.
So, I argued with Major Gross and explained patiently to him that there was no need to mess with it if it hadn't been shot or anything. He was not sympathetic.
ROTC sort "fell from grace" in my personal universe - and I in the eyes of the military establishment did too.
After a while, I was released from ROTC with a letter that said basically that I was unsuited for any further involvement with the Army.
This was fine with me.
....I'll pick up around this point later if anyone is interested - right about now it's dinnertime here and that's important!
EP