Sunday, December 22, 2013

Putting me in a box again...

Really, I often wonder what causes others to think in certain ways about me, what I look like, what I have written, read or said.  What changes me from Earl to: one of the beings in a box.

Veteran - I belong in that box
Combat Veteran - I belong in that box (although like most combat veterans I was more target than threat)
Disabled Veteran - yes, but I don't really feel disabled as much as dislocated and unloved....
College Education - yes, but that only means I attended and graduated, not sure it means as much to you as
    it did to my mother and I.
Paratrooper - yep, do it again as soon as you get an aircraft and a working chute for me...

Boxes I no longer want to be in:

White Non-Hispanic, although my mother grew up speaking Spanish and living in South America, she wasn't Hispanic    Too limiting a label.  But I have to accept it to properly fill out government forms for firearms?

Middle Class, Blue Color, Enlisted, Retired ( Re-tired  I had to get tired twice?) Unemployed

Christian, Methodist, Baptist.

Who am I? Son of Donald and Melba, husband of Kum Cha, father of Gideon. I am William Earl Dungey, and if you are from the government you can call me by my SSN, because you want it from me wherever I go. Boxes are so confining, and the universe has no visible edges nor boundaries... that like the boxes you only created in your mind.

1 comment:

  1. We are who we are... The more they try to box us in, the less successful they really are.