Well, maybe rebuilding my life in my mind's eye, where my thoughts are wildly wandering... dusty old stuff all over here. I find myself holding my wife's hand, why? She and I know but we aren't telling, we just laughed at my mother's joyful snapping a photograph of my holding my wife's hand as we strolled among the roses in France, Paris or Lyon in my memory. Her imagination of our love was always less romantic than it should have been. She shouldn't have raised such a wall flower that thought he was just cactus or bramble bushes. Just a frightened fellow that needs a thick skin with visible signs warning of dangers if one bumps into him... lonely level one...
Well, my monitor tells me it was going to sleep, as I listen to Up on Cripple Creek, because I scrolled across it as I checked out my Course of Instruction for this coming weekend in Ariel, WA. I was doing so much better without the digital attacks of the computers for my attention and consideration and commercial exploitation of my piles of treasure.... but I have a Pacemaker check today, see how Tracy is coming with her treatment or if I have a new tech. I will visit the YMCA after and come home to maintain my Colt AR 15A4 before Beto knocks on my door to take it away... for some reason that is on my pile of political promises I never expect to see carried out, seems they won't make any money at it. If they could gain revenue they would do it, but no money no honey....
So I sat on a bench outside the YMCA yesterday with an older paratrooper than I, he did the jump school where they learned to assemble the gliders of his day after WWII, then off to Okinawa and Korea in year two of the war... early into Vietnam as an adviser under a just planted MACV. Before SF got hot and we started shipping Divisions over there. He is the smarter than I man that talks to all the ladies as they pass by, asking bout their lives, loves and children. Makes everyone smile. Smiling works fairly well. I went off to buy groceries, stuff I wanted but didn't really need... ha, ha. Worked for me, steak last night, a nice thick one. Now I am listening to Marty Robbins and singing along to the ones I know best, which seems to be more than I thought. Especially all the gun fighter songs. Surprises me how many romantic ballads I know, too.
Well, it isn't even 4 am now, but I can go back to sleep. Night!
Old men have lots of experiences, sadly they share them with very few people.
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