Welcome to WRITE ENOUGH!
Seventy-seven years have passed since the Allies invaded Nazi-occupied France. Given the hollowing out of our military with Critical Race Theory, how many soldiers would risk their lives today on behalf of a society marinating in racism? Sorry, France Who are we to liberate you when our own society needs a complete revolution? Maybe brush up on your German.
Voice actor Paul Rugg reflects upon the arrival of chihuahua Lucky into his life, bidding the wee canine a fond sic transit a year after its passing. I should get a eulogy this good.
Prostate Cancer: The Real Talk starts speaking today via the wonder of podcasting. Listen as cancer survivor El and wife Shay interview doctors, authors and other survivors as they explore the varied facets of prostate cancer—diagnosis, treatment, recovery, post-op life. Also on Facebook and You Tube.
Some of my favorite investment advice from comic Ryan Long. (Note: A pesky commerical up front. Endure for five seconds until the Skip Ad button appears. Then enjoy.)
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| AetherCzar |
(Originally published in 2013, based off a 2009 post. The day remains as solemn today as it was then.)
This Memorial Day I again think of Kurt and T.J.
Imagine you knew a man from Cleveland, Ohio.
This man had one sibling, an older sister.
During Vietnam, he volunteered for dangerous assignments, operating far behind enemy lines.
After the war, he battled drugs and alcohol.
Eventually, he sobered up and went to work for a vending machine company.
For many years, he traveled in a van around Los Angeles fixing coffee and soda machines.
Now imagine you knew two men with the exact same history. (But different vending machine companies.)
I was honored to have been friends with a pair of guys whose backgrounds meshed in such odd intimate ways. Once I introduced them at a party, figuring they'd have lots in common, but after a few polite minutes they separated.
They'd experienced stranger things.
Kurt served in Marine recon. Based out of Khe Sanh, he operated in Laos along the Ho Chi Minh Trail on operations so secret that the Americans who died there were never officially acknowledged. Kurt had extended his service to go to Vietnam. He was wounded twice, decorated, and returned home only to be attacked in a bus depot by a man angry over the war. (The man didn't fare well against Kurt who beat him into a fine mist.)
T.J. originally fought with the 12th Infantry near Dak To. He loathed the eerie randomness of combat—here one second gone the next and decided his odds would be better in the LRRPs (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol). Instead of waiting to be hit, TJ crept around North Vietnamese base camps in the Central Highlands making the enemy nervous. He returned to serve out his last few months at Fort Knox, conducting tours of the U.S. Gold Reserve. One night while watching a TV show he started shaking and broke into tears.
Years would pass before he learned about PTSD.
In 2002 I made a business trip to Vietnam. I brought Kurt back a little Buddha and some red clay from Khe Sanh. TJ collected Buddhas so I picked him out a honey in Saigon: a big, fat happy Buddha, smiling like he'd just won the Power Ball, holding up the Pearl of Knowledge.
In the end, Vietnam finally claimed them both. Health and psychological problems shortened their lives. But they did the best they could with a bad hand and I value the times we had together.
This weekend I remember them and all who gave their lives in service to the country.
(Based on a post from 2009.)
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| voxpolitical |
Okay, three running posts in a row. You'd swear it was 2007 again. I'm nowhere near a marathon in China or America. Today I ran a pleasant 2.5 miles, experimented with 2x1 run/walks, and didn't keep overall time. This is my step-down week and I intend to rest. Weather conditions were sunny, in the high 70s.
Meanwhile at an ultramarathon in northwest China:
Survivors gave shocking testimony of events on the rugged mountainside, where unconfirmed meteorological reports to local media said temperatures had plunged to as low as minus 24 degrees Celsius. [-11.2 Fahrenheit]
Recalled one surviving runner:
"My limbs were frozen stiff and I felt like I was slowly losing control of my body. . . I wrapped my insulation blanket around me, took out my GPS tracker, pressed the SOS button and lost consciousness."
He said when he came round he discovered a shepherd had carried him to a cave, placed him by the fire and wrapped him in a duvet. [A form of bedding.]
Read more here.
The article didn't state if the deceased runners had their organ harvested. Perhaps a later edition will update us on this robust custom. Of course, being dead prior to the harvesting leeches some of the fun from this Chi Com practice.
Astounding. Two running posts in a row. High 60s today with cloudy skies and a light breeze. Very similar to the Illinois of my youth. A splendid day to run four miles. My last mile lagged a bit as I didn't press to finish, but, otherwise, I'm pleased with my performance. Next week features EZ running, no timing, just a trio of short fun runs. Then back to training for my 5k at the beginning of July.
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| weekendletter.com |
But I ran four miles today, dashing out early to take advantage of the marine layer over the LA basin. As I was working my way into mile four, out popped Mr. Sun. I finished up before the temperature rose another ten degress.
Two things to remember from todays effort:
1. I did not want to run this morning and considered putting it off another day.
2. I did not want to run on pace.
3. Now I'm quite pleased that I ran and. especially. pleased that I stayed on pace.
How odd, the human mind. Mine seems to want to do just enough to get by, whether in exercise, writing, finance, my relationships. Sometimes not even enough to slide along. As I mentioned last month, I need to plan my actions, execute my plans and adjust as I go, always with a goal in mind. Otherwise, the default is ambling through life waiting for the end.
Here's an intriguing short video on dealing with stress and achieving goals.
'Twas suggested I post a few episodes of my work in a pleasant spot. I've chosen here. Sadly, not everything I've written has y...
