groan ...
Amid blogs of trash talk and utter excrement, amid Bush bashing and American Idolaters, perhaps I have finally found something which justifies my putting up yet another blog - groan. I am just an "average joe" who has been 60 years a proud American, until now. Now I have got past being sick to my stomach, with a couple decades more time on my hands I hope, so time I think for me to do what my brain was created for.
In Viet Nam I played a minor Intelligence role - something I kid about once in a while. My head gets spooky sometimes. In 1968 I turned down an Army invitation of transfer to Monrovia, Liberia. After thinking about that opportunity for a week, I decided to extend my stay in Quan Loi for another six months - better the "devil I knew" it seemed to me at age 23, half a world away from home. A big part of my decision was knowing I would be "home" six months sooner (a lot closer anyway) ... so was it a cop-out or a smart decision ?
Both, is my answer.
In four decades since, there have been times I regret passing up the chance to spend a year in Africa, and I wonder will I ever get there ... whether at all there is any importance in my going there. That my life would have been much different had I taken the Liberia assignment is likely the biggest understatement in my life. The most nagging question I carry is how my mind and knowledge of surveying, among other things I possess, or possessed then, would have been used, and by whom.
Other gnawing questions are, which of my character flaws would have been exploited in attempt to compromise my "too high standards" ... and what sort of person might I have turned into with temptations I would most certainly have been offered. I will never know the answers, and I am okay with that. I do not sleep long at night, but I have no trouble sleeping at all.
Next month I will be 61. My soul is at peace, whatever comes next. At the same time, my mind is wrapped around knowledge I wish I never learned - yet for what I have been learning lately, I am determined to learn all I can about a subject that affects all of us. This blog is part of a larger project, then - a part-time project for me right now. Having been a Patriotic American, a supporter of the United States, a defender of Freedom, more centrally an advocate of Freedom of Speech, for over 60 years, I now find myself somewhat perplexed, since:
- What it means to be a Patriotic America seems to have taken on a different meaning - become twisted.
- Supporting the United States has come down to making a choice whether to support The People or the government.
- Defending Freedom in the United States now puts me at odds with my own government
- Maintaining my right to speak freely seems to be in violation of the Patriot Act
I like cowboys because they are quiet until they talk, and when they decide to speak, what they have to say is not to be missed. You learn to pay attention to a cowboy for that reason - listen when he is quiet to hear what he hears, and not disturb his thinking. A cowboy knows HOW to think if anyone in this world does. I yearn to hear a cowboy explain the Patriot Act to me ...
... 'cause a cowboy has his own unique view of what is American, how to care for land and people - a cowboy knows what the air smells like, and what is on the wind.
In Viet Nam I played a minor Intelligence role - something I kid about once in a while. My head gets spooky sometimes. In 1968 I turned down an Army invitation of transfer to Monrovia, Liberia. After thinking about that opportunity for a week, I decided to extend my stay in Quan Loi for another six months - better the "devil I knew" it seemed to me at age 23, half a world away from home. A big part of my decision was knowing I would be "home" six months sooner (a lot closer anyway) ... so was it a cop-out or a smart decision ?
Both, is my answer.
In four decades since, there have been times I regret passing up the chance to spend a year in Africa, and I wonder will I ever get there ... whether at all there is any importance in my going there. That my life would have been much different had I taken the Liberia assignment is likely the biggest understatement in my life. The most nagging question I carry is how my mind and knowledge of surveying, among other things I possess, or possessed then, would have been used, and by whom.
Other gnawing questions are, which of my character flaws would have been exploited in attempt to compromise my "too high standards" ... and what sort of person might I have turned into with temptations I would most certainly have been offered. I will never know the answers, and I am okay with that. I do not sleep long at night, but I have no trouble sleeping at all.
Next month I will be 61. My soul is at peace, whatever comes next. At the same time, my mind is wrapped around knowledge I wish I never learned - yet for what I have been learning lately, I am determined to learn all I can about a subject that affects all of us. This blog is part of a larger project, then - a part-time project for me right now. Having been a Patriotic American, a supporter of the United States, a defender of Freedom, more centrally an advocate of Freedom of Speech, for over 60 years, I now find myself somewhat perplexed, since:
- What it means to be a Patriotic America seems to have taken on a different meaning - become twisted.
- Supporting the United States has come down to making a choice whether to support The People or the government.
- Defending Freedom in the United States now puts me at odds with my own government
- Maintaining my right to speak freely seems to be in violation of the Patriot Act
I like cowboys because they are quiet until they talk, and when they decide to speak, what they have to say is not to be missed. You learn to pay attention to a cowboy for that reason - listen when he is quiet to hear what he hears, and not disturb his thinking. A cowboy knows HOW to think if anyone in this world does. I yearn to hear a cowboy explain the Patriot Act to me ...
... 'cause a cowboy has his own unique view of what is American, how to care for land and people - a cowboy knows what the air smells like, and what is on the wind.
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