A Thanks Giving Message

Thanksgiving Message

Where does it come from......

Kennedy was dead, I saw it again and again on the TV in the college dormitory lounge.  The endless card games continued on, I did not sit in.

I did not come for a mandatory Bible History course, thought it kind of strange at a State University, neither did I sign up for Calculus 101 when I enrolled, but it was required in my major, in the second trimester I was trying to get these two obstacles out of the way.

I had aced Bio 101, an honorable 3.0 from an English teacher who really desired to be a chef, survived a chemistry professor who kept talking about the "mullterials", found out it really was MATERIALS by week three and, never could forget Miss Sweet,  Anthropology 101 who I thought wore the ugliest sheer stockings ever, no not stockings, living with the natives of somewhere she had given up shaving her legs, use your own imagination. Four courses instead of five like most colleges where I had full scholarships.  Each professor had added at least four books since we only had such a lite load.

Ah! but the other two schools were home on Long Island, and I wanted to escape, cross the bridge, feel some freedom.

You could call that a mistake, I was lonely, much seemed pointless, the Vietnam War raged on and I had a high number in the draft, they would never get to me, no college deferral even necessary.  In suicidal fog, the jungle seemed like a greater escape, and possibly an end to it all.

So I drove my Chevy Corvair Ramp-Side Pickup Truck (look it up on google) directly to the Army Recruiting Office.

sales effort needed by the spiffy Master Sargent, and his trusty Private aide de camp.

I signed on the dotted line and got a ticket to the Syracuse Base where fodder was being loaded into the War Machine.

It was to be a three-day adventure all expenses paid bye Dear Uncle, "We NEED YOU!" 

They used comfortable commercial cruise busses for the trip and we filled all the seats, seems I was not the only lonely person on the planet.  Sitting next to me was a plaid shirt, blue jeans and really worn boots, with a smile that would not quit, not lonely I guessed, and we began one of those conversations.

I don't think it even occurred to either of us to exchange names. If we did there is no memory of it other than the boots at the youngest age possible, I was a big three years his elder, marched away from a farm somewhere over several hills, leaving his Mom and Dad, young sister and pet dog.

"What yer goin to do in the Army?", I said there was not a plan even though of, and he puffed up his considerable chest, stretched, and flexed his arms, and announced: "My High School recruiter told me and my mom that I would be a heavy equipment operator and would be a great help on the farm with that exceptional skill.

The bus pulled up at a low-end hotel where we would have a two-night stay while we were tested and poked and prodded in every imaginable way.  No worries, all meals included, and a nearby USO for excitement.

I lost track of Worn Boots.

Walked to the USO after a dinner you can imagine,

 a block from the hotel, and descended the stairs to the dull painted room that smelled of cigarettes, but not booze. No conversations, no music, no dancing girls, no free shelled peanuts, just chairs, and tables, and a coffee maker, paper cups, and a box that must have held cookies for the bus that came yesterday.

Sit for a battery of tests, something I was always good at, especially the multiple choice, and how does this look when folded from flat into a solid shape, along with math through algebra, (no calculus), I always knew to be useless, now confirmed my feeling since the Army did not think it worth a page or two out of dozens of sheets of questions.

I guess some did not pass the tests since the group standing in line for physicals was considerably shorter than the line up going into the testing room.

We were allowed to keep our modesty undershorts on, carry all other clothing, seems everyone wore them in the 60's.  The army must have had an excess of Doctors since there was one for every part of your anatomy except your mind, I guess the psychiatrist was busy with the written tests from the day before. I seemed to be a shoe-in for transport to the humid land of Vietnam. We edged along the line of Doc's, in a kind of crab walk, except to spin around to get our lowest orifice invaded.  At last, I smiled at the final examiners.

"Lift up your feet", he barked, and one at a time he looked.

"You're out kid, you'll get a medical excuse. Got a case of fungus on both feet, and you would rot up to the knees in a couple of weeks if we sent you along with all your friends."

 On the bus back to college Boots sat next to me again, with the biggest smile on his face, even wider than on our trip up.

"So it looks like you are going to be that heavy equipment operator by how happy your look?" and he replied, "No, even better, I'm going to be a cook."

At least the Army made it look like a great choice, and did not tell him he failed math, science, mechanical aptitude, and IQ parts of the written exams.  Who would think they had feelings, for the kid.

He was happy as an un-caught clam at spawning season.

Me, I was still lonely.

All this happened over a Thanksgiving weekend, the first time I missed the family turkey and trimmings. and an afternoon snooze.

A fungus had probably just saved my life, and I hope that becoming a cook behind the lines saved the life of Really Worn Boots.
Easy on the Turkey it is an Amazing Life full of Surprises.