Say a little prayer for me... each night....

One of my favorite Vietnam Era songs, dating myself again.  My wife mentioned that Saturday was the anniversary of her arrival in the United States of America, 7 March and seven days later 14 March will be another anniversary of our official government approved, married in a church in front of my family...

When wondering what she ever saw in me - I got just two reasons that she was willing to share - one is not my fault so I don't count it. But the one I locked on to - was that I kept my promises. Don't you know that a reputation is a terrible thing to live up to? That is a high bar, thank you, love.

She left everything behind, and went through Japan and California trusting to a young man from a different culture to make good. Of course on my end, I was praying that she would come, be here, show up - I had been away from her for two years and four months, living on letters and pictures - pre-internet. No telephone calls either, they were still getting rid of the straw roofs on the houses. Modern Korea hadn't arrived yet.  I had been stationed in Fort Sill, Oklahoma playing army and burying the dead from Vietnam, then I went to Germany, found most people drunk or on drugs, no real purpose in the training nor service there, and so I volunteered again for Vietnam. So I got to do my tour in Vietnam, survived (nothing ever happened to me) and came back to the 82nd Airborne, as a leg. Did Jump School made Staff Sergeant (promotion board in Vietnam - had to lock up my rifle and ammunition and dress for the board then return to the firebase).

Her flight was one suspected of having a bomb on board, didn't unload for hour plus, no alarming the passengers nor the waiting families. But no bomb, and she came down the stairs without a smile, and she tells me she was wondering why I wore clown pants (colorful bellbottoms) the car had dangling wiring and wasn't clean and new (like the movies). 

I drove to Mrs. Johnson's, to meet my mentor mother the lady that kept the household I could hide in from my family and failings (I was a teenage boy). Then I took her to see my sister and her new baby Paula Jean, they lived in the country in a trailer (Paula made friends with snakes). Then we were almost prepared to meet my mother and my family -- which was great on my mother's side - but she didn't understand anything of my wife's expectations of her new mother-in-law and American clashing with Korean cultural norms. Ah, I didn't know either, but I knew it was all my wife and me against the world. Came close to punching my brother that thought if I called my wife Yobo, then he could. She wouldn't complain to anyone but me about that, he came so close to hurting badly.

Enough about that stuff, it is TBT, but I got up and going early this morning, wife is off hiking weather is perfect, and I had to knock out some time sweating at the YMCA before meeting the doctor. The YMCA was great, many miles on machines, hot looking women working out to music below my rowing machine - not that I really care about the women, but the music is interesting. Anyway I was so pumped, I jumped up and ran part of a lap - yes, both feet off the ground one foot down stretch it out and repeat.  Cool!
I also met a former Priest turned financier of some kind, the conversation was interesting, I felt sorry he was described as not believing in God, he didn't deny it, but liked that I mentioned all human relationships with God are personal. He also agreed with several of my opinions on modern 'merica. I went back to knocking out some more exercises then showered and reported to the clinic.


Met the doctor, discussed the options, signed consent forms, went and got x-rays, went home to wait for the call for what day and time the end will be... well, I wouldn't have consented to that -- but I was BLUE when I had started the day so well. I did get a laugh on my way out - I had been charming and cute and nice to all the staff trying to make sure the olde man with the NRA Life Member ball cap and a leather coat on...was safely handled. Any way, at the heavy glass door (they do get heavy when one is depressed - it weighed the same when I came in didn't it?) right in front of my nose, on the glass was the No Gun sign. So stupid, to trust my health to people surrounded and afraid of their own fears, especially ones that I don't share. Giggling. The pistol wasn't the kind I carry, I was good. I know the difference.

Anyway, operation is on Saint Patrick's Day, a good sign, and I have affordable care... and I know the LORD loves me, and my wife will worry just because she is that way. Well, get the trash out, make supper and get better prepared for the Appleseed this weekend - procrastination only works until performance time... I will never learn.