I thought I had a good idea for a blog. Its still good. Thought about it all through dinner, what to say, etc. But as I logged in and saw some replies from Facebook, some pictures from first year at Kemper floated across my screen and to say I didn't tear up...well I'd be lying. There were pics of a time that words would not do justice. For those who were there, no words are needed. For those of you who weren't there, you can not comprehend. Neither could parents or other loved ones; unless YOU WERE THERE. In any case, I digress.
These pics showed people I know...I knew then. And its a good lead in to what I had been thinking about.
As I sat in my new favorite Chinese restaurant I had to smile as I thought, Holmes would have loved this. Have you ever known someone that was a combination brother, friend, warrior and many other terms. Someone who you met and somehow it felt like you had known them forever? Holmes was that person.
At Kemper you make friends for life. You know their secrets as they know yours. No, I'm not talking about your virginity or anything as mundane as that. I am talking about, you have lifted up a part of your soul and have shown them what you are made of-and they have done the same for you. They can't lie to you nor you to them as THEY KNOW. Its something, again, that can not be explained. Some may say you have that. Oh really? In 30 years tell me how many of your friends you are still in contact with from that time. And would do almost anything to help you. You may say you can count them on one hand. Hmmmph. One hand. Is that all? That doesn't even take me out of the "A"'s of my first year.
But Holmes. He was my first assistant squad leader. He was an Old Boy. At that time it meant he was just short of Jesus. No blasphemy there, again, I can't explain so I am going to stop trying. In any case, we became friends, which was not something that you did at that time. He was a corporal. We had the same initials and similar interests, and both small town kids. Big difference was that I was the home sick kid that had two left feet that didn't know a column from a flank.
Even today I can see him, I know him, I know how he sounds. I can see him in uniform, that grin of his, some acne and everything else. He is frozen in time. As he stopped aging in 1979 when he died.
I kept in touch with his parents for a long time, but after about 15 years, that fades. Nothing on them, they are real nice folks, but I was their son's friend.
In any case, I used to call forth his image and have imaginary talks with him. Granted, I think my ego would "say" what I think he would say. Still, he has never been far from my thoughts; as if there was one person who I knew had my back, I knew inside as I felt the same way, and who I could nudge at a restaurant and nod to a pretty girl, it would be him.
I have many many many good and dear friends; any of them I would lay down my life for, or if they needed me I would be there. I can laugh with them as we have cried together at funerals for ones who have departed this mortal plane. I thank the Lord for their friendship, and it has always been an honor to have lived besides these men and women. You tell me if you can talk with someone who you have literally not seen or heard from in 25 years and its like no time has passed. There are no fake smiles or over indulgent stories. Just a simple recap of what has happened since we last saw each other. A de-briefing if you will. And then its Continue the Mission.
Also, you show me a place where you can talk to someone who went there 20 years later and you are bounded with them. The history, the tradition, the stories.
I did it again; this didn't turn out the way I had imagined. But then, what in life does. I could and may re-write this someday. Expand on it. As I have always wanted to do; write a book about my time at Kemper. Others have encouraged me. And I know Others have thought about it also.
Part of me really wants to. But at times I feel ashamed that my words will not do the times there justice. Also, I know others want to forget their past or re-write for their loved ones and kids today. 'No, daddy never did that.' Sorry guys, I was there. I know what happened. From "Sugar" to playing Rat Patrol in Theresa's car to someone lighting Bunch's door on fire, I remember.
I have friends who do a great job in putting words to paper. I even know professional writers; and a writer has always been a dream of mine. Right up there with being a soldier. In fact, Writer's Digest was the only subscription I had longer than my Soldier of Fortune one. And since I failed to go after that one, maybe I can try this one. I was told that ol' Sam Clements dog ran across our dog's path. Translation: I am somehow related to him. But as I have dug into my family tree, after I shooed away a few dogs who were using it...I can't seem to find a connection. Just another one of those 'folksy' tales.
The memories I have are more precious than anything I have. And I know as time moves on, the pictures and words are fading like ink on a page exposed to the sun. I can only hope that in the end, when I too have left this plane, that the memories return; like music on a CD, it lasts longer than an 8-track or cassette. And I know that not all the memories are good, and you know what? That's ok. That's life. That's what makes us who we are.
I had always thought that I wanted certain things like what I saw. Example: When our Corps Commander got promoted to full colonel, they had taken and engraved his sword. I had thought that was neat. But you know, that and other times, never seemed to happen to me. A part of me always wanted it too. But you know what I have finally figured out? It couldn't be done. I wasn't him. I didn't go through what he went through to arrive at that spot in that time.
No, I was the guy who got 'tricked' into coming back to his room because someone had told me my tuba was broken. And then got thrown in the shower. I was the guy who was having a bad day and one of my best friends said something and I did a spinning roundhouse kick at him. And had he not backed up I would have connected. But because I didn't I ended up falling on my ass and he jumped on me, still playing and cooled me down. I was the guy who, when they were reading off promotions at Christmas Corporal dinner, locked eyes with my squad leader when they announced my name from Phase I to Phase II, and hoped that I had worked hard enough to get his respect. I am the guy who still wonders about that today.
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