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