Then, now and Kansas City.

Wow, I didn't know I had missed that many days.  This time of the year is not my favorite so...  Anyways, as I was driving through Kansas City I realized why I and perhaps a few others of my Kemper brothers liked KC better than most other 'big city.' Usually we would be coming back after a parade or some other event. It would be late and the sun would be setting and the lights of the of the town would be coming on as we would be heading home. To Kemper. We had a feeling of warmth and comfort after doing whatever we had to do. Then on the road home. Kemper was home for us. 

I can not even begin to try and tell you how it feels to know the security, the fun, the warmth of knowing that you were protected and yet still have the back up from parents. But they were not immediate thoughts as you knew that there were people at Kemper that would come to you aid way before any parents were needed. It was real simple. We took care of our own.

What I wouldn't give to tear up Kansas City or for that matter anyplace as long as I had people at my side that I knew and trusted and loved. Bunch. Dennis. Hank. George. Martin. Beck. Its a feeling that few know. People watch your back. They also bring different skills and talents to the table also. Some of the stories...

Sometimes I wish all the stories about Kemper and her sons and daughters could be forever immortalized so others would know what we went through. Then I think, no. I want the men and women who passed through Kemper's doors to always be remembered. Their names should and all that are part of kemper should be remembered. But their stories and what we did and went through; the good and the bad. No. They are our stories. You didn't live it. To try and tell a story, no matter how good, will never capture those who were there, who lived it. Some you can say a few things and they understand and get it. The rest though; you are just wasting your breath and wasting those people's time who don't understand or don't get it.

How many stories about combat can you tell? Men live, men die. The story is the men, just the location and the means and they change. Same with Kemper. You want to know about our one star general?  Our Old Boy who was award the medal of Honor for his actions in Viet Nam? How about the boy that started at Kemper in 7th grade and went all the way through to junior college and did 20 years in the Army? How many different stories are all depends on how many cadets there were. Many have drifted on. It seems like 20 years does seem to be much for some who want to live in the present and not be reminded of how they were. And yet if they hadn't been that way they wouldn't be who they are now. They are trying to re-write history so they don't look bad to their wives of kids. Too bad that I know where the skeletons are buried as I help bury them and I KNOW and remember how they were.