Today at lunch, I met a fellow that looked to be about my age but he was black. He answered his cell phone and because I could only hear his half of the conversation, I heard him say something Barbara says all the time. "Yes, I know it was expensive, but we aren't broke are we?" Barb would say it a little different but, "You haven't missed any meals have you?" translates to me a lot the same way. He turned to get out of the booth and we talked a little while. We both have a concern about where our Country is going. We share a concern that the division in our society is getting larger and while he thinks it is more based on color, I think it is more based on money. The one thing we shared was a worry about the need for change.
About that time Barbara came in from visiting our Daughter-in-law across the street and I told him that while we should be worried, the lady that just came in the door wonders just who's job it is to fix what ails us. Is it possible for the Government to fix what's broken? No, seriously, the Government is filled with people that do what they do to get votes from you and me and can they truly change our system to really fix it?
We agreed that about 25% of our country is pretty liberal and about 25% are very conservative. That leaves about 50% out there that are somewhere in the middle. Of all the people, about half vote. Perhaps it is closer to 60% in some of the Presidential Election years but that really means that the people we elect represent at most a minority of the people. With the cost of running for office so high, the people that pay for the publicity for the candidates feel they are owed a return on their investment. Money talks...
As we discussed the world, a Female soldier from Fort Riley came in with her teenage daughter to have lunch in a booth right next to us. The old guy left and I asked the soldier if she would like to hear my Big red One story. (I noticed her shoulder patch was from the 1st Division at Fort Riley) A few years ago, I was sitting at a stop sign over near Junction City and a Military Convoy came by. I noticed the letters BRO1 on the first truck, BRO2 on the next one and it wasn't until about truck 15 that I saw a white soldier driving and then I remembered that BRO was the Big Red One's nickname. Duh Dennis..
End of rant, back to the War.
MUD
Keep the war stories coming. After I got out of High School in '61 I tried joining the military. Because of my "soul surviving son of a veteran killed in WWII" they told me to forget about joining.
ReplyDeleteDeferments for college, and later a child kept me out of the draft as well.
Being in the funeral business, I got a good dose of just how bad things were, especially during the Tet Offensive. We would get as many as six a week for burial. Sad a lot of young folks never made it back home.
Glad you did, and find your stories interesting.