Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2006 17:00:52 -0800
Reply-To: Pensioner <al_knoll@PACBELL.NET>
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From: Pensioner <al_knoll@PACBELL.NET>
Subject: Veteran's Day Missive
In-Reply-To: <200611112352.kABNqngu015509@nlpi008.sbcis.sbc.com>
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Soldier in the rain.
It had been a long time since he'd heard that eagle scream.
It had rained hard and at the river camp where he and others had spent the
night. In the drizzle before dawn, he wrapped his sleeping bag in the
plastic tarp and gathered his things. It was only a couple of miles to a
corner out of the rain near the park. He stumbled coming up the slippery
bank and as he picked himself up, the mud on his tattered clothes brought
back memories of mud in another place, now so far away. He wandered through
downtown, but at this early hour few noticed the bedraggled figure with his
bedroll and muddy clothes. The corner near the convention center would be
dry just across from the park and the sun would warm things up a bit, he
thought as he crossed the trolley track. Memories of long ago were powerful
today as he thought of friends whose faces would never age like his had over
the years. His reflection in the glass door of the auditorium embarrassed
him and he stopped to try to straighten his hair and brush off the mud.
Just around the corner, he set down his bedroom and leaned back up against
the building. The parade would be by in a couple of hours and he could warm
up here while he waited. There was a little bit left in the bottle and it
was warm going down. As the commute traffic along the street next to the
capitol picked up for the morning, the sun peeked out and illuminated his
corner behind the hedge. He remembered last year when he and his buddy had
shared the corner. His friend had died that winter from alcohol and abuse,
this year he was alone. From inside the tattered jacket he took three grimy
medals and carefully pinned them on. The street was quiet now, closed off
for the parade. He sat in the corner and thought how things had gone these
past years when he couldn't hold a job and lost his home. Dark images from
the past had stolen his resolve and ambition and pulled him down to where
he was today. He could hear the parade music as they turned onto the street
a block or so away. Wiping away some inner rain, he stood up and gently
took an old green hat out of his bag. He smoothed his tangled hair as best
he could and put the beret on at just the right angle. As he stepped from
behind the hedge towards the street he could see the flag bearers at the
front as they marched toward him. The sparse crowd at the curb moved aside
as he approached. When the flag drew close he snapped to attention and held
a razor sharp salute as it passed. Sometimes all you have left is your
pride and your memories. He'd made it to one more Veterans Day.
The Veterans Administration estimates there are over 250,000 homeless
veterans in the land of the free this winter.
(c) Al Knoll 1999
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