2002-11-11 - 10:56 p.m.

Ok so laughing at old veterans in the rain? Not my style.

I have a plastic bag o' medals in my bathroom closet. It's one of those things you don't know where to put. Like the old metal social security card.

The one with his name, and signature.

Yeah, I have issues.

My father was like me, a freak. At 16 ( 16!!) he dropped out of high school and asked his mom to sign the release form to let him go to Vietnam. She didn't believe he'd go, so she signed it.

Hahaha we are evil wicked determined bastards.

Suffice to say he went. Came home with a good pound+ of shrapnel in his body and a raging drug addiction. And a few purple hearts, medals etc.

Nightmares too.

I wish I knew what the medals were for. What the nightmares were for. What the addiction was for.

Instead I have a really great Mom who lets Bryan live with us, forever, because we promised that maybe someday we'll live with her and Grandma.

And Mom is superlative. Incredible, vivid. She may be a fair source of beth-wickedness herself.

But just a plastic bag of medals. Pictures. A tendancy towards large body weight and weak ankles.

So yeah stupid assholes on the bus. Shut the fuck up. Do not laugh at the men who are walking in the rain, in old uniforms. Do not snicker at the miles of police cars driving in honor guard. Just....don't.

-bsg-

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