You’ve got yours and I’ve got
mine and sometime, as they say, the twain may just bring us together! While walking our dog (new dog, mind you,
Tobi has taken to the sky), in any case, while walking Stella this morning, it
occurred to me that memories are things I should be concentrating on. The main problem with that, though, is the
brain I’ve been given seems to be losing it.
Alzheimer’s anyone? I think that may
be the reason, but I’m not positive. In
any case, that’s my thinking on the subject (like that?) and I’m sticking with
it.
Alzheimer’s or no, memories
are what they are. Their usefulness is
limited, though, if while writing something like this one keeps getting just a
bit lost. It is hard to write on any
topic when you keep losing your train of thought. What to do?
Well, I guess all anyone can do is continue to do what they think they
were trying to do, which, for this topic, is pretty easily done.
My thoughts gravitate to a time
when I was playing with a small plastic jeep in my sandbox. This would put me at about 5 years of age in Orangeburg,
South Carolina. We had been in Orangeburg
for about a year at that point in time and the sandbox was my place of comfort (often)
whenever I was playing alone. A good
thing, at the time, and a good place to start this work. Someone, dad or mom, bought a box of small
plastic soldiers to go along with my sandbox sorties, and that brought a new
dimension to my time there. It would
have helped if the soldiers had come in more than one color (olive drab was
fine,) but, come on, the soldiers on both sides of the demarcation line all
looked the same.
In any case, having provided
a few sand hills for cover, the soldiers on one side would always be on the attack
and those on the other side would be on defense. My side, it seems, was always on the attack,
and those soldiers on the other side just had no chance when the pecans (did I say my sandbox was beneath a pecan tree--well, that was the case) began
to rain on their parade. Fun was fun in
those days. Playing alone was a skill I
mastered early in my career with the sandbox and my small soldiers. Somewhere along the line I stopped playing
these games. I guess I had other things to do once I started my career as a
student in elementary school.
Given this background, one thing one might consider would be why I chose army ROTC when I first went to college. All I can say is the army seemed to fit in
with my thinking at the time. Then,
again, it could be by starting my collegiate career in the summertime there
wasn’t much else available. I really don’t
remember what the situation was. (Memories a problem?) In any case, ROTC was the one course that I
could always count on to provide aces for my lot. A good thing, no? So I took that course and even joined an additional
military group, the Pershing Rifles, to boot! Which was a good thing. I met quite a few other newcomers to our school
who were just like me when it came to military preparedness, and we made friendships
that I wish I still had. Pretty sure that
would be the case if we hadn’t scattered the way we did when we left
school. I left a bit early due to a lack
of academic involvement. I just wasn’t ready
to leave home. In any case, that’s my
best guess.
What to do now? Writing is easier when you remember a bit
about what you wanted to do when you started.
Wish I did, but I don’t. Guess I’ll
quit while I’m just a bit ahead and try again later. If I can only remember. Ciao!
I think I might need a bit of help. What think ye?
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