... Gilgamesh, wherefore do you wander? The eternal life you are seeking you shall not find. When the gods created man, they allotted to him death, and withheld eternal life for themselves...
-The Epic of Gilgamesh
... lots of interesting times (to say the least)...
(old guys - hangin' up on the ridge, around 2011)
1944 - 2017
... can't recall many that would be considered "General Audience" material, but do recall a few...
... very long ago...
... had been hanging out down along the railroad tracks with our buddy, Vince J. ("the Juice") - shooting .22's and plinking bottles, tin cans and whatever else we found lying between the ties...
John: "Hey Vince - shoot this can off my head!"
Vince: "Aww John"
John:"C'mon man, shoot this can off my head"
Vince: "Aww John"
John: "I mean it man, shoot this can off my head!!"
John: "Hey Vince - shoot this can off my head!"
Vince: "Aww John"
John:"C'mon man, shoot this can off my head"
Vince: "Aww John"
John: "I mean it man, shoot this can off my head!!"
... so, reluctantly, Vince walks over, puts the barrel of the .22 right against the can and 'POP!!'... *
John: "OK, now it's my turn!!"
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... long ago...
... we'd been backpacking for several hours... although I had offered the borrowing of some modern, lighter gear, John had insisted on totin' along his own Vietnam-era, marine corps issued stuff, including arctic-style sleeping bag, which itself had to weigh at least thirty pounds... along with food, water, .22 rifle, fishing gear and whatever else (including our survival kit of several bottles of 'Smirnoff'), he was packin' a heavy load... walkin' through a particular swampy area, and each lost in his own thoughts, the loosening of his pack shoulder strap went unnoticed until it finally let loose, swinging the pack violently sideways and John along with it, almost taking him to the ground... don't know where his thoughts had drifted prior to that moment (John was a Vietnam veteran with combat experience - I'm sure that the chest-high marsh grass we'd been moving through had elicited some memories), but he reacted as if being woken from a nightmare and looked at me saucer-eyed, asserting "Man - I thought I'd been hit!!!"...
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... not so long ago...
... hadn't seen him in quite a few years - he'd been living near Baltimore - he found out I'd been working in the area and invited me over to his Maryland home to visit... arrived at his place one afternoon to find a note taped to the door - "Had to go pick up the kids at practice. Door unlocked. Beer in the refrigerator"... made myself at home and am sitting in what is definitely John's lounger, sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon and reading the daily newspaper... eventually hear the slamming of car doors outside, the opening of the front door and and then a herd of footsteps rushing up the stairs (it's a walk-up living room)... before I could even lower the newspaper it's kicked from my hands straight into the air, pages showering the room - directly to the front and on both sides I'm confronted by three young girls, each dressed in karate uniforms, and each in zenkutsu-dachi counter attack mode... a familiar voice from behind suggests only that I "smile"... easy thing to do - John's home...
... anticipating more interesting times ahead - hanging together again with an eternity of wandering throughout the cosmos...
*Disclaimer: Expert marksmen and firearm handlers (aka: couple young dumb punks) - do not attempt at home or school
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