I was born a poor black child... Ha, I'm kidding. Well, I was born and I was poor, but the other part isn't true. Bridgeport TX played host to my birth and the hospital which saw me in was torn down years ago. The doctor who delivered me was well known for the number of babies he delivered in our area (3000+). Some of my strongest nursing memories are for the interaction of he and I years later. My mom named me from two boys in the newspaper. She did not recall the context of the article(s). I imagined them as street racers who died a fiery death on some back road or as recon specialists with the First Cavalry Division in The Nam.
When I came home from the hospital it was to a dairy my dad worked. I stopped and took pictures of it once after I found out where it was. It was torn down just weeks later.
When we moved in about my second year it was to a tiny house that we referred to as the house between the highways. It was between 287 and business 287 in Decatur. There is a tire store there now. When I was about 18 months old I got out of the house somehow and crossed 287 and was found in the median. The subject came up often- at least into my 30s and after the story would be told, blame would be laid and fingers pointed by those whose negligence nearly resulted in my very early demise. I think it freaked everybody out a little how close they came to losing their little snow flake.
My earliest memory I suppose is man landing on the moon. Everyone kind of rolled their eyes when I innocently mentioned that in front of family as an adult. They could only say,"Oh, I guess you're right." When I recounted in detail everything that happened- my brother took pictures of the tv and recorded the sound on a reel to reel tape recorder, my dad basically telling him that it was dumb to go to the trouble etc.
My best friend and I met the first day of first grade and I got lost on the way home from his house that same day. We had planned most of our childhood to own a used car lot when we grew up. He died in his early 20s. We were planning on bringing him to Germany where I was serving. When he died I was literally lost- in the back of my mind I'd never intended to do anything after the Army but have that car lot there in our home town.
He has been dead most of 30 years and it still literally stops me dead in my tracks and causes my chest to hurt when he crosses my mind.
I had a crush on his sister like no other. We later tried to ruin each others lives by acting on that years and years later. She was pretty and smart- incredibly smart and made tons of money. She was the first woman to ask me to marry her.
From the very early grades if something was wrong with the equipment in a classroom I would look at it and often be able to fix it. Honestly- if I went to the janitor and asked for WD40 or a wrench, a light bulb etc. he would just hand it off to me without asking me anything. He would also asked me to help him with things if he caught me in the hall and in fact ask teachers for permission to pull me out of class sometimes. He was called Froggy. His last name may have been Taylor. He was very elderly and had huge ears and wore overalls every day. He was a very sweet old guy. I'm glad I don't have to live with even thinking a mean thought about that man.
My favorite teacher was a student teacher. I think his name was Minton. He was a C130 gunship crewman in Vietnam. The Renshaw ladies were better to me than I deserved. Mrs McDonald was a music teacher who lived near me. She had a beautiful sloping lawn. When she would play the piano with the window open I'd lie on the ground outside the window and listen while reading.
My classroom was less than 5 minutes from my house. When the last commercial on the Three Stooges would start if I took off running at that exact moment I could then be in my classroom and have time take a couple of breaths before the bell rang.
All I ever wanted to be was a soldier. I can see the news of the fall of Saigon April 30 1975 like the TV is setting in front of me now. I asked my dad to the effect,"Where will I go for a war now!?" He laughed and said,"Son, I'm sure you'll be able to take your pick of wars."
I have in my lifetime: owned a fire hydrant and held a live (and very angry) badger by the tail.
Things I have done that you have not: fired an M60 machinegun, 1917 Browning machinegun, a full auto M14, M3 greasegun, 1914 Thomspon submachine gun, BAR, M1 Garand and M16-
all in a single day.
Something else I've done that you have not: a donut in a Camaro- inside a National Guard Armory.
OK one more- single handedly swept and mopped the entire drill hall floor of a National Guard Armory.
One day in the living room as I walked by my trusty golden retriever I impulsively hiked my leg and cut one in his face. He started gagging- not in a clearing his throat, I'll be OK- just give me a sec. guys. kind of way- in a back arching, I simply do not know how he kept from yakking on the carpet kind of way. I hadn't noticed my girlfriend (who would later become my wife) was walking behind me and witnessed my vile act and my poor dogs response. She started gagging. Omigod you're sooo stupid Reeeaack, and disgusting. I can't believe... Rack rack, ooof. Oh my God, you're sick. She turned back down the hall and barely made it to the bathroom before losing her cookies.
Yes, I once made a dog gag and a girl vomit.
My best friend was murdered by another friend. He shot him in the head. The bullet impacted the crown of his forehead right between his eyes. When I think it about it I can still smell Mike's brains on the mantle.
My dad was a strange mix of good and evil.
After his death I went into a tail spin and lost myself for a while. Then I found myself on the East-West German border. I turned 21 on guard duty on the border. Like Decatur, I still consider the city where I lived in Germany a home town. I was very adept at the language and was always used as an interpreter for simpler stuff. When I came home I overheard someone asking a cop in German and very broken English for directions. I was able to ask them where they were from, muddle my way through directing them and wish them well.
Two hi lites of my service in the Army were that I served in both the 1st Cavalry Division and the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. They were both units I studied and fantasized serving with from the time I was a little boy. The two disappointments of my peace time service were being accepted into 1st Cav's horse platoon after a test ride and grueling interview, but not being released by my unit to serve and not being allowed to attend Ranger school and get assigned to a Ranger Battalion due to my serving in a critical military occupation specialty.
I could tell you what that specialty was, but then I'd have to kill you.
Younger, pretty Mexican and black women tend to be attracted to me.
I have attended an outdoor performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture where the BOOM part in the music was played by the firing of an actual Napoleon cannon.
When I meet Meatloaf as I assume we all will some day, I'll say, Do you remember being hit in the face by the Bota bag of wine in Mannheim Germany in 1986? Dude, I'm sorry- you just looked hot and thirsty! He will say, Don't sweat it man. That swig of cold French wine saved my life. Do you want a job as a roadie? I can only pay you a hundred thousand dollars a year.
While no genius, I possess above average intelligence and have a vocabulary that's roughly twice that of the average American.
I have broken: left arm, fracturing both arm bones at my elbow (motorcycle wreck) two toes of my right foot, pinky finger left hand and nose (football), pinky finger right hand and knuckle (fighting), L1 vertebrae and torn ACL (hurt in Iraq). I have some high frequency hearing loss and my ears ring constantly (being proximal to blasts in Iraq). I guess that covers my list of serious personal injuries.
In my life I've been a dishwasher, HVAC tech, carpenter, mechanic, floral design assistant, and delivery driver, city water treatment operator, maintenance worker at a water park, concrete worker, self employed landscaper, electronics technician for Boeing Defense, heavy equipment operator, pharmacy technician, soldier and nurse.
I would have done something else also- something that may have made my fortune, but Clinton's tax increases literally crushed me.
In another life I would have probably been a pretty good: doctor, lawyer, farmer, wildlife biologist, constructor, scientist (researching optics, light and/or weapons), engineer, teacher, cop or firefighter.
OK, I get it- throw in astronaut for good measure.
When I've taken those tests that determine your aptitude for careers, it always come out that I would be well suited for some form of: law enforcement, teacher or military officer.
The JP who married my wife and I was named Plum Rasbury.
Nursing caught my interest both because of interaction with nurses while my eldest was in the hospital as a baby and getting tired of being rained out in my construction work. I am a very good nurse. Presently I do hospice. You know you have a good job when you'd do it for free, but you get paid pretty well to do it.
The job I was working before nursing was a close second in greatness. It was conservation work- building flood control structures. I loved it. There are lakes in the middle of nowhere I helped build that 100 years from now people will be swimming in and fishing from. I also worked on the rebuild of Kickapoo Lake dam. I also worked on the DFW expansion building runway 7L and refinishing Throckmorton Country Club's golf course. In my time in earthen construction I personally moved over 300,000 tons of our world from one place to the next.
My wartime service was a hi lite of my life. I had been out for 5 years when I read the Texas National Guard was mobilizing. News of the mobilization came from the paper while I was working nights at my nursing job. I told my wife, "The entire division is mobilizing The scout platoon was specifically mentioned in the paper. I'm sorry, I have to go." she said,"What can I say? I've always known you'd have to go if a war started." You could be killed!", everybody else said. You could be killed crossing the street and anyway, I'd rather die on a battlefield than live at home knowing my country needed me. Also, I had a weird sense If I went, some kid with a future wouldn't have to go.
I did my job well while downrange, made a lot of friends and had a good reputation among soldiers in my unit, even those I did not work with directly. My call sign was CombatKevin. I was also known as CK. Other past military nicknames in various units and postings were Predator, Mr. Clean, Hammer, Kevron and Kevmeister. There are a few others, but I don't know you that well yet. You can determine how well liked or hated you are in the military by the prominence, playfulness and/or viciousness of your military nicknames.
Downrange I got hurt and am now considered disabled. That's been the biggest hit of my life- going from benching 300 pounds free weight (with an under 200 lb frame), to if I pick up Zac incorrectly I'll go straight to the floor. From having 18+ inch biceps with a 44 inch chest to being skinny. From washboard abs to almost having a belly. From being able to run 2 miles in under 14 minutes, to if I forget and take off running to my car while it's raining I'll yelp and get soaked shambling to the car after I hurt myself trying to run. From being kind of a stud at softball and tennis to some days doing well to get from point A to point B...
Sometimes I have to use a cane. Although, the cane has flames going down the sides and can be folded up and placed in my backpack. It's not as cool as you might think though.
The psychiatrist I saw when I cam home from Iraq was named Elizabeth Taylor.
My mom loved me like crazy although she admitted it was hard since I was so much like my dad. If I went out and picked mulberries from the tree in the front yard she'd bake me a little individual cobbler out of them with sugar and biscuit dough. She was 90 pounds of pure, fierce determination. She lived to be 80 years old in spite of smoking like a freight train all her life, although many of her last years were miserable.
She died at 6 o'clock in the morning.
I still miss her.
Weird things about me: I have a vague, gnawing fear I'll someday break my left left leg midway up my shin. Roller coasters terrify me (don't tell anybody, but I've lost consciousness on them- literally- I fainted dead away) Occasionally, I practice writing with my left hand in case for whatever reason I ever lose function in my right. Peanut butter is one of my favorite foods, but the smell of it nauseates me if I smell it while not actually eating it. I have a crazy good memory, although it is tied to a very hard auto delete function. For instance, in my nursing if I'm told I'm cancelled on a patients case and then get surprised by being reassigned two days later to the same person, I may have to ask for the address again as I may simply have no recall of exactly how to get to their house.
I am very good friend and neighbor. Although I don't think I've ever intentionally betrayed a confidence I have trusts a time or two- like everybody has I suppose. The knowledge of those failures though, has made me a better friend than I was capable of otherwise.
I never lie and have only told two in the past 20 years.
My best friend in the world is a published author and screenwriter. We hunt together and share secrets no one else in the world will ever know. He bought me a very nice shotgun once because I was in a tailspin over a horrendous loss in my life- just because he thought it would make me feel better.
Headaches rarely bother me- maybe once or twice a year.
In another life I was a foster parent.
My children are all very smart, funny, interesting, good looking, well built, kind people. My eldest has enlisted in the Army and my 4 year old has stated his intention to do same. My daughter says she wants to be a nurse.
If my youngest hadn't come into my life by now I'd probably be living in Puerto Rico where I would be writing: my autobiography which would mostly be for my family, a horror story idea I've had for years which is so heinous it would get an X rating and be banned in schools and finally, a war novel set in Iraq based on enlargenated versions of my own experiences and war stories other guys told me which might be pretty good.
Generally speaking if I'm well enough suited for an endeavor I don't generally fail at it if I apply myself at all. Also, I'm real good at self assessments- so I'm not real used to dealing with failure. My marriage was a failure. When asked I sometimes say to the effect,"We were two pretty smart people who together could figure out a lot- accomplish a lot and do really smart things, but we acted very foolish in ways and lost it all- we threw it all away." We knew each other for most of our lives- such a shame.
I've spent the last few years figuring out who I am and where I'm going. I've come to the conclusion my best and my worst times are probably ahead of me. In short- I am a human being.
Thanks for reading world. I love you in spite of yourself. I wish you the best and will do whatever I can for you- just ask.
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