Me and Bucky the Badger Down by the Schoolyard

I'm back from our whirlwind trip to Wisconsin. Ironically, I don't think I ate any cheese while in the state. It was, in fact, warmer there than it was back home in Virginia but I think the entire state was just trying to make for a pleasant visit for us. Wednesday was a pretty good day for me. We did our "dog and pony" show for everyone and they were all receptive and happy that we came. That's always a good thing. After our meetings, I asked Bossman and Dan if we could go to the bookstore. Ok, more accurately, I insisted we go to the bookstore. I was on a mission for hockey kitsch. The Puddin' now has a very handsome Univ of Wisconsin hockey jersey (complete with a surly looking badger head on its chest). And I found myself a bright red Wisconsin tank top. The Puddin' claims that it's more like one of those sexy co-ed tops. So apparently, I've purchased a "Wisconsin Girls Gone Wild" outfit. Look for me on the next DVD sold on TV.

I was standing in line with these two great finds and the girl in front of me was buying strange things I've never seen before. So me being me, I asked her "what are those?!". She told me they were flashcards but I've never seen anything like them before. They were only a little bigger than my Kroger Plus Card (maybe 1" by 3") and they were all on a binder ring. Apparently it's a new way to organize your flashcards. I was stunned. The academic world had moved on and I didn't get a memo. There was a new weapon in the War on Unmemorized Declensions and no one told me! I felt .. so .. old. I have got to go to university bookstores more often.

Dinner that night was fantastic. I had veal (yes, I know, those poor cows) and it was the best thing I had eaten in ... forever. Sooooo good. We had a pleasant chat with our colleagues and all was well in the world.

I'm making good progress in the last Dark Tower book. People are dying (as was to be expected in the final book of a seven part series) but I manage to read about each one while on a plane. So the flight attendant is asking if I would like anything else to drink and I'm sobbing into my sleeve, huge tear drops falling onto the pages of this brick of a hardcover novel I've brought with me and I can only muster a head shake of no. They should have tissues in the arm rests of first class.

The year was 1968 ...

Last week, before the horrible news of losing Gyrth came and took the wind out of my sails, I had been doing some personal research on my parents' lives from approximately 35 years ago. It was Veterans Day and I was taking the opportunity to quiz Mom and Dad about his time in Vietnam. Pardon the disjointed history as I'm merely noting the "highlights."

My father was born in May of 1941 and Mom was born in January of 1938. So in 1967, my father was approximately 26 years old and my mother was 29.

Daddy was drafted in January of '67 and inducted on Feburary 15 of that same year. This was all before the lottery, and each state had a quota of men to call up. Daddy was called up not long after moving back to North Carolina from Colorado. He was rejected because of his orthodontics, but after notifying them that he'd had those removed, he was called back up.

Daddy was inducted in Raleigh and put on an Army bus to Ft. Bragg, NC. As Dad says "if you're ever out around Smithfield Meat Compay and see truck loads of hogs going to their 'destiny' -- that's how I felt." He spent eight weeks at Ft. Bragg (which to him felt like eight months).

Later he went to Ft. Cobb, OK for advanced training in the summer of '67 and called Mom on Halloween of that year to tell her that he'd been given order for Vietnam. My parents planned a wedding for the Friday after Thanksgiving of that year (11/24/67, although in my world my parents' anniversary is always the Friday after Thanksgiving). Daddy flew in on Thursday morning and ran home from the airport because the taxi was too expensive. He was home that weekend and for a few days around Christmas before he was sent to Vietnam.

Daddy spent 364 and a half days in Vietnam (basically the calendar year of 1968). He got a week of R&R in Hawaii that August where Mom met him for their honeymoon. He also got three days of R&R in Hong Kong later that year. Otherwise he was in the field in Vietnam.

Dad says "My unit was in Central Highlands - B Company, 1st of the 22nd Infantry of IV Division. HQ was Camp Enarie near Plekue village (can't remember the spelling). We "humped" up in the steep mountains around CakTo near Cambodia border (toward Laos) and down in foot-hills/small mts. near Kontum City. We were just a couple of clicks outside Kontum the night of the 68 Tet offensive (I'll never fully enjoy fireworks again). Then for a while, we were in the streets of Kontum - what was left of it - but some snipers were still there."

According to my parents, mail service was very good. Mom could mail him letters and they would get to him in two to three days. She wrote every day, even if only a few lines. And every Thursday, she sent a postcard to Daddy's parents so that they would get news that Saturday. Daddy always worried that if she got busy, Grandmama would worry that Mom was "running around," but thankfully she never got too busy. Mom would mail wool socks and Smithfield ham to Dad and apparently he made several other soldiers jealous at the amount of mail he got.

Daddy's MOS was not radioman, but he ended up carrying one in the field and that became his duty despite what his papers said. Despite all of that, Dad says how lucky he was that he wasn't born of the Korea era where men came back with frozen, amputated feet.

Mom and Dad never spoke on the phone or over a HAM radio while he was stationed there. So they went a year with only letters sent back and forth and a week in Hawaii.

I recap all of this, not to paint my father as some sort of war hero or to make his year seem so extraordinary. But it just boggles my mind that my parents went through all of this at basically the same age that I am now. My greatest drama in life these days is that my boyfriend is 85 miles away from me and we're making plans to live together. For my mother to marry Daddy and stay home with her 8 year old son and write letters every day ... it's a piece of my parents I don't necessarily see these days. So I'm grateful my Daddy made it home safe and that my parents' relationship weathered such a trying time. Momma and Daddy rock.

I miss you, Gyrth

And nothing can we call our own but deathAnd that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Smart, funny, kind-hearted people who I love so much are not supposed to die. So I try to imagine you, wearing a Red Sox t-shirt, doing all the things you love, and feeling frustrated that everyone would make such a fuss over you. We will take care of everyone you love and those who love you while you're gone. Gerry, I will love and miss you forever. That's all I know to say.

Gyrth Oldcastle of Ravenspur King of the East (1977-8) Order of the Chivalry 8/12/1978 King of Atlantia (1982-3) Order of the Pelican 9/12/1992 Order of the Laurel 8/16/1996