As I sit here at the end of Memorial Day, at the Portland International Airport, listening to drunken frat bro's talk about the posteriors of passing maidens, my mind can't help but wander to actions of military service men and women in the world's wars over the yyears. Don't ask me how it correlates, because it just doesn't.
I am remembering the stories of my Grandpa Prentice, and how he was put on trial for his life in front of a military tribunal for desertion during wartime. His crime? He went awol while saving the family farm from a blood sucking lawyer who was trying to fleece my great grandmother. Not only was he acquitted, he ended up knocking out the guard who spat in his food while he was in the brig. He received the purple heart after being wounded when the ammunition ship he was on was dive bombed by a Kamikaze.
Now as I listen to the bearded hipsters behind me talk of pabst blue ribbon, Bon Iver, and rolling their own cigarettes, I'm reminded of the story that Sgt. David Spears fooled me into believing when we were kids. He told me, with a complete straight face, how his grandfather singlehandedly knocked a Nazi plane out of the sky with nothing but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Physics told my 9 year old brain this was impossible, but my brain told physics to go straight to hell. David's Grandfather was a hero, but not for that reason. No matter how awesome that story would have been.
Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Go hug a vet. For real.
I am remembering the stories of my Grandpa Prentice, and how he was put on trial for his life in front of a military tribunal for desertion during wartime. His crime? He went awol while saving the family farm from a blood sucking lawyer who was trying to fleece my great grandmother. Not only was he acquitted, he ended up knocking out the guard who spat in his food while he was in the brig. He received the purple heart after being wounded when the ammunition ship he was on was dive bombed by a Kamikaze.
Now as I listen to the bearded hipsters behind me talk of pabst blue ribbon, Bon Iver, and rolling their own cigarettes, I'm reminded of the story that Sgt. David Spears fooled me into believing when we were kids. He told me, with a complete straight face, how his grandfather singlehandedly knocked a Nazi plane out of the sky with nothing but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Physics told my 9 year old brain this was impossible, but my brain told physics to go straight to hell. David's Grandfather was a hero, but not for that reason. No matter how awesome that story would have been.
Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Go hug a vet. For real.
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Go ahead and comment. Be as harsh as you like. My self esteem is usually much too high.