I guess first off, I think I'll go with my 365 project. Simple enough. You may or may not know, but I work as a journalist for the U.S. Army. It's a good job. I love what I do which mainly consists of telling the stories of the Soldiers that honorably and selflessly serve our nation.
There are some bad apples that serve, I'm sure, but I haven't met any of them. Most of the Soldiers I know have a few things in common ... a selfless devotion to duty, a deep, abiding love for this country and the ideals that it stands for and a willingness -- not a desire, but a willingness -- to give their lives in the cause for which they serve.They are men and women, just like you and I. They have dreams, problems, desires .. everything you and I have. I have laughed with them, sharing in their camaraderie, and I have cried with them as they mourned fallen comrades, a job I wouldn't wish on anyone, but a job I thrive in.
I don't really give a flying fuck what your position or opinion of the president, the war, congress or anything else is. In my humble opinion, these men and women deserve nothing but your respect. I respect them and take my job seriously. That being said, there are other reasons I love working for 'Uncle Sugar.' Here is one in the form of "3 of 365" I like to call it "A Good Job."
Yep! That's me going home at 3:50 p.m. on a Friday. God I love my job.
Next, I saw the most amazing thing today. I stopped in at my local Circle K, an offshoot of Southland Corporation's 7-11 chain, to get some gas and a soda for the drive home. Outside the door, in a bright yellow, flame patterned shirt, stood a tow-headed 8 year old boy. As customers walked in and out of the door, the boy opened it for them, silently, making eye contact with each one.
Now, that might have been strange enough but this boy had an accessory that I think he wished he hadn't. He was wearing a two sided sandwich board made of cardboard. The sandwich board, reminiscent of one worn by out-of-work men exhorting pedestrians to "Eat at Joe's," was obviously home made. Scrawled across both sides of the board, lettered in the hand of a budding eight year old artist, was the phrase "I stole from Circle K."
After noticing it, I noticed another thing, two women, one obviously his mother, and a family friend just ... hanging around, making sure the kid served his penance. As I was in line, waiting to pay, the mother brought her son inside and, in front of all those waiting customers, introduced him to the manager and politely, yet firmly, asked him to tell her what he had stolen. When he hesitated, she told him to speak up and stood there as he found his voice, said he didn't remember the name of what he had stolen and walked over to the candy display and showed her.
I walked out then, having paid for my shit, thinking that the little boy was a lucky boy to have a mother who loved him that much, and that if there were more mothers in the world like her, I might not worry about the next generation so much. Then it hit me ... sometime in the last 15 years or so, I've turned into my dad.
There is more, but this is long enough, so I will save the rest for tonight or tomorrow. It's been a good day. Thanks for asking.
I was dinking around Friday afternoon and found myself in the cemetery again. The pic above is one of the ones I got there. I love the photographic possibilities a cemetery offers. My question is, is it kinda freaky that I spend so much time in them? Or that the fascination with death and dying is such a prominent part of my life? Hmmmmmmmm.
