Date: Sun, 11 Nov 2007 18:24:06 -0800
Reply-To: Roger Whittaker <rogerwhitt1@GMAIL.COM>
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From: Roger Whittaker <rogerwhitt1@GMAIL.COM>
Subject: Re: One more veterans day NVC
In-Reply-To: <HHEAJIOMDPBGGCKHACGJAEHMCOAA.al_knoll@pacbell.net>
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indeed ...
well said
On Nov 11, 2007 6:14 PM, Pensioner <al_knoll@pacbell.net> wrote:
> I post this from time to time. The number at the end has been adjusted
> downward from 250,000 to the most recent estimate. Some of these veterans
> need a handout some just a hand up. Hire a vet, he's already paid.
>
> >>>>>
>
> Soldier in the rain.
>
> It had been a long time since he'd heard that eagle scream.
>
> It had rained hard 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 felt good 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 175,000 homeless
> veterans in the land of the free this winter.
>
> (c) Al Knoll 1999, 2007
>
> <<<<<
>
--
roger w
There are two kinds of jobs in the world:
Picking up garbage and telling people things.
Successful people do both, with the same good attitude. (riw)
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