Twenty Years Ago Today: Do You Remember Where You Were?

I do. I know exactly where I was, what I was doing and why I was doing it. Someone else is doing the same thing today while on their watch. The only real difference between then and now is that the current fool's daddy (Kim Il Sung) was in charge while he (Kim Jung Il) was cavorting around the world drinking, whoring, gambling and getting fatter with his countrymen's money while they starved to death in the countryside.

Soon it will be going on with his ne're-do-well drunk of a son in charge. Other than that, it's probably about the same. Seems the nuts in North Korea don't fall far from the tree. Some people just need killing and these jokers are at the top of my list.

Twenty years ago today, I was serving on the DMZ in the Republic of Korea with the renowned 2nd Infantry (Indianhead) Division's 5th Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment (Mech). I was one of three squad leaders (E-6) in a Rifle Platoon. I was in charge of 10-11 soldiers under my 24/7/365 supervision.

There were 6 companies (best I can recall)in the Battalion (headquarters company, 4 line companies, 1 weapons company - TOW gunners). We had 3 rifle platoons (and 1 support platoon)to the line company. Each platoon was comprised of 3 squads of roughly 10-12 men each. Each squad was comprised of a squad leader, 2 fire teams (Alpha & Bravo Teams), 1 KATUSA (Korean soldier) and a medic.

We were housed in a tent city called Warrior Base for the duration of our rotation through the DMZ mission. I lived in a GP-Medium tent with my squad and our Platoon Leader (2nd LT); possibly one of the best young officers I ever served with (West Point 1988, I believe). He was a good soldier. All of my men were good soldiers, too.

We were locked-in on Warrior Base and could not go anywhere. (About 90 days) If you were lucky, you got 1 24-hour pass to go back to Camp Casey overnight during your stay on the DMZ. The only other times you left there was to run daytime recon patrols/nighttime ambushes inside the DMZ, stand guard on one of two Guard Posts inside the DMZ or on a PT run to the bridge on the Imjim river and back; in flack jackets and rifles (locked and loaded just in case of attack). In a nutshell, you were there.

Our living accommodations were Spartan, to say the least. Each man had a cot with blankets or poncho liners for covers. It stood draped underneath a mesquito net so you were not sucked dry of blood during the night. Your extra pair of jungle boots, running shoes and shower shoes were on-line under the cot for inspection. All of your personal gear was stored at the end of your cot in a foot locker. Dirty laundry hung in a cotton OD green bag there as well.

The walls of the tent were rolled and tied up leaving a 4-foot wall of mesh netting between us and the outside world. This was done because it was the only air conditioning we had. June in Korea is one of the hottest, most humid, miserable places I ever served. I prefer the desert; at least it's arid there.

One of the guys had brought a small 10-inch TV with him from the rear and it was our entertainment center (one Armed Forces Network channel was all it got). There were 2 30-watt lights on either end of the 6"x6" beam holding up the center of the tent.

We had a small cinder-block building for the company latrine/shower/wash room. The mess hall was a GP-Large tent that the whole company rotated through 3 times a day for chow. There was a little shopette-type PX there (about the size of an RV) to get essentials like razors, stamps, cigarettes and 2-beers-a-day. There was a Katusa Snack Bar run by the only woman on post (a 65+ y/o woman so ugly only a mother could love it).

So, you may wonder what the average day for a soldier was like on the DMZ back then. You can read all about it here: I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore, Toto...

This is not an official holiday like Memorial Day or Veterans Day. North Korea has been in the news a lot lately and my time over there in the ROK has been on my mind. To those who served there, EVERY day is a day of remembrance. Just know this: no matter the day or hour you read this little piece, somebody is out there far away on your behalf, doing all the things nobody else will do. Just so you don't have to worry about it.

Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down

On a Sunday mornin' sidewalk,
Wishin', Lord that I was stoned.
`Cause there's nothin' like a Sunday,
To make a body feel alone.

And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound.
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk,
And Sunday mornin' comin' down.

Kris Kristofferson

Probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I understand it. I have felt it. I have lived it. I know the loneliness in every line. It's not a song about lost love or anything, but rather that of being totally isolated, in a place where you don't really belong or fit in.

I have lived in and around some of the bigger cities of the world, but never really felt at home there. Always felt like a guest; an outsider. People running around doing this and that, cars and buses roaring by, honking horns, sirens, jackhammers. I felt like I was caught up in a flooded stream, being swept along, pushed and battered, sometimes going under. By Saturday night my heart would be pounding and the blood ringing in my ears. I waited all week long for Sunday mornings, my personal, private island in this river of confusion. Only when the streets were sleeping, was it quiet enough to find the things I was familiar with.

I love Sunday mornings. Might be my favorite time of the week. Not overly religious -- no plans for church or anything. I just claim Sunday mornings for "me time".

I try to get up extra early on Sunday morning. Seems most other people prefer to sleep in, which makes it all the better for my private time. I can do whatever I want. No phone calls, no company, no distractions.

I like to take a cup of coffee and sit on the porch before daylight. Sit there and listen to the early morning sounds, feel the coolness of the night, smell the damp grass.

I like to watch the sky slowly get lighter in the east and wake up the birds. I like to watch the sun come up and not just be aware that somehow, it's daylight now. There is always a small breeze as the solar winds begin to do their thing. Kind of like Mother Nature's alarm clock. The sounds of night creatures are slowly replaced by those who work the day shift. There is something almost sacred in the moment night becomes day.

I like to watch the cattle slowly stand, stretch and begin picking at the grass at their feet; some 'ol cow bawlin' for her calf to come suck his breakfast.

I like to feel the day start to warm in the sunshine, the dew on the grass and tobacco leaves slowly disappearing in the sun and breeze.

I take a few extra moments to spend some time with my dog, pat his head and tell him how good he's been all week. I think he waits for Sundays, too.

Might take a walk through the wet grass down to the pond and watch the ducks at work there and see if any big fish jump.

I like a big breakfast on Sundays. Biscuits and gravy, fried eggs, sausage or bacon, fried apples, tomatoes, cantaloupe, fried potatoes and grits. And if I can eat another bite, the remaining cat-head biscuits will disappear with some honey and butter. I don't seem to get this very often as the main ingredient is missing, a good woman to fix it. But I think that will work itself out of its own accord and in its own time.

All good things must come to an end, as they say, and Sunday mornings are no different. Sooner or later that phone’s gonna ring or I'll see somebody comin' up the drive makin' the dust fly. I'll realize that my little escape from the day to day goings-on has ended. But it’s ok, that stuff is important, too.

It will be another seven days ‘til next Sunday morning and Lord only knows what the week ahead holds. But no one will ever know what a grand time I had this morning. It'll just be me and God's little secret.

Kris Kristofferson More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

Copyright © 2007 WML

Dusk on the Pond

Sun slides below distant hills
Casting long shadows that birth
Silhouettes of living things
Captured silent memories
Of grays and blacks

Two white rings
Circle long, dark necks
Proclaiming matrimony to outsiders
And ten small feet
Paddling between them

Feathered breasts slice
Inverted images
Like a craftsman’s tool
Shattered shards of looking-glass
Ripple to the shore

Darkness prevails
As Mother flips the switch
Moonbeams and fireflies
Light sheet music
As frogs blare a tattoo

Copyright © 2009 Mike Lawson. All Rights Reserved

Men Are Dying to Have This Read...

Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but yup, we are all dying here. You have been headed towards your last breath since the time you took your first. Ever thought about what you would tell a loved one, if you had the chance, in the event of your death?

Most of the obvious things we do in life are more than apparant to those closest to us. But what about all the little things that you added to the relationship, the little ‘nuts and bolts’ kind of contributions you made, to ensure that it was successful? Are others even aware that you were doing these little things, behind the scenes, to make their stay here on Earth easier or more pleasant? Things that really show the deepness of feelings that you had for this person, that their interests were always high on your list? Have you really ever thought of all the little things that your significant other brings to your relationship? Do you show the appreciation towards them that they deserve?

I wrote this as a hypothetical letter from a dead spouse. Hope you give it a read and some thought.

—–

My Dearest Angel,

If you are reading this, it is because things are not working out exactly the way we planned it. Sorry I had to leave, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I hope that it has not been unbearably hard on you and that you are fairing as well as could be expected.

I trust that my brother is helping you through this as I had asked him to do in the event of something like this happening. He is a good, fair and honest man. You would do well to heed his counsel. He will see to it that the letter of my wishes are carried out, with your approval of course.

You are fully aware of our property and financial issues, as we shared in everything there. All the papers and documents are where we put them and all is in order. I would just recommend that you continue our policy of invest wisely and spend carefully. I am sure you will and you will be fine in this regard.

There are, however, some things that will need tending to from time to time and I am not sure whether you are aware of them or not. They are just little things I did around, behind the scenes mostly, but important enough to bear mentioning here. I am sure I will leave some out, but I will try to give you the best list I can. Here it is:

Put a pack of yeast in the toilet and flush it two times a year. Keeps bacteria healthy in the septic tank. I do it on my birthday in April and yours in November, roughly six months apart.

The lugs on my truck tires are an odd size and the socket to change them is in the glove box. A breaker bar for it is under the passenger’s seat. I hope you keep my ol’ truck, burns a little oil but she’s been a good one.

I always walk the water out of the garden hoses before I put them up in the Fall so they don’t freeze and burst. Sure save you a lot of extra work around the place.

I try to keep water in the birdbath in the summer, oddly enough, for the cats to get a drink. Damn ducks get in their water bowl and just muddy it up, so I put it there.

Let the first and last cutting of the yard grow to seed before you cut it. I know you always hated this but it re-seeds the yards on its own that way. That’s why I did it. You know we always had a beautiful lawn, too.

Worm the cats, dogs and cows on our birthdays. Give the dogs their shots then too.

Make sure the fruit trees get water, by rain or hose, at least every ten days. Even in the winter. That is when they store their energy for the next season.

I try to put ground up egg shells, banana peels and some iron around all your roses in the fall of the year, that’s what gives you those big blooms and deep colors you love.

Watch for the little asters to bloom in the early Fall, that is when to harvest the honey from the beehives. If you wait any longer, the bees start to make that strong, dark honey. You always like the light, clear honey. Tony will take care of this for you, or you know where the bee suit is. If you decide to keep them, better re-queen in the Fall, make sure they make it through the winter.

Lime. Can’t put too much lime on cantaloupes. You loved those ones we grew each year and that is the secret to the rich sweetness they always had.

If you have problems starting the old tractor, or she loses power and cuts out, bleed the fuel system of air bubbles. It’s in the manuals in the bookcase how to do it. Tried ever since I had her to find that leak and never could.

I guess I could go on and on, but I just need to let you go and get to it. You can learn these and the rest of the things I did on your own as circumstance dictates. You have always been a very capable and innovative woman and I have spent our time together loving you for it. Which brings me to my closing.

The most joyful and special moments of my life were spent doing the one thing that was the easiest to do; that being loving you. Wherever I am now, I am doing it still. I hope you find the time to slip away from things, now and again, to sit with me awhile down by the pond. Let the breeze there carry my voice of memories to you and bring a smile to your lips. Know that you were loved. When you look up on the hill and see a group of deer slowly emerging from the wood line at dusk, hear me whisper to you, “Look”! Know that you are loved. When a soft puff of summer air comes through the window and moves your hair a bit as you lay resting, it is only me kissing your brow goodnight. Know that you will always be loved.

Forever Yours,Your loving Husband

—–

I would suggest that we all keep in mind that we are only one breath away from needing this letter and conduct ourselves accordingly.

Kris Kristofferson More CMT Music More CMT Music Videos

Copyright © 2005 Mike Lawson. All Rights Reserved

In Egypt

Quicksilver dust of sacred stones

Washed white in naked noon

Shifting windswept over old bones

Empires rest beneath the dunes



Stinging sand and scorpion tail

Serpent's bite in burning breath

Scattered ash of Saharan hell

Dry whispers on cracked lips of death



Burrows dug for absent shade

Graves scooped out with pilgrim care

Buried foundations pharoahs laid

Hidden by the wasteland there



Lapis lazuli embedded; blue

Riches; golden treasures hid

Sun consuming heaven's hue

Below the blanket of pyramids



Hapshetsut's obelisk unearthed

Camels kneel beneath their packs

Cradle of a kingdom's birth

Carved in ruins at Karnak



Desolate night where stars retreat

Into God's empty and hollow hand

Meanwhile, tarantula solpugids creep

Ancient remnants of an arid land

Retiring the Debt...

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Small bits of clay so fragile in arrangement,
That they briefly capture and hold breaths of life,
As they walk among other spirits in this physical world.
But the mighty and meek all share one thing in common,
On this journey we make to a grave destination.
The cost of life is life itself and the debt will be paid in full.
When the dun is levied and satisfaction demanded,
Breaths will be counted like coins, and as the coffers fill,
One by one, the debt will be retired.

Only the memory remains to remind us,
That our note will soon be due;
That the owner of the field is coming for his rent.
His reaper’s ears are deaf as stones,
As they scythe the field before them.
Pleas for mercy are never heard over screaming blades.
The debt is owed and due on call, and so they labor on.
The stubble of days and years pass under their feet,
As they cut their path across the headed crop.
Breaths are harvested and the bundles tied and laid upon the ground.
The tally is squared and one by one, the debt will be retired.

Today your debt was paid in full, tonight you sleep forever.
At dusk today I will give you back, to the earth that lent you to me.
Beneath the wild rose on the hill out back,
Where you laid and watched the cattle graze.
A place you would remember seems a fitting place to rest.
Your life was hard but your spirit never faltered,
With crippled frame you bravely faced all obstacles before you.
You lived life full right to the end, with a heart few have.
A good friend, a faithful friend, a best friend, a loner like myself it seems,
I would walk past a thousand men to spend my time with you.
I’ll see you in my dreams at night and when my debts retire.

Poem

Bee Swarm

The air was quiet in the back porch sun,
save for what I though was a breeze
drifting down from the treetops where I sat.
So soft at first, I didn’t notice that
the whisper was not whistling branches,
not the rasp of twig on limb,
but a droning buzz drawing closer.
Something zipped past my ear,
catching my lazy eyes in the direction
of an approaching swarm of honey bees.
I bolted from the concrete steps,
spun and wove around like a drunken boxer,
swatting the air hastily as if stung.

This roiling fist of wings, enveloping,
swirled instead around a center,
an atomic nucleus, as the queen
herded her hive to a larger nest.
Around the eaves of my house they clung,
rolled in the air like cloud vapors, rose
faster than I could run around to
the front yard to watch them continue,
down the driveway, across the road,
neighbors wondering what I was chasing.
Barefoot and panting for breath, I watched
the glistening coil disappear into the woods.
I longed to sprout cellophane wings,
to follow her secret pheromone trail
where a hollow tree or rock crevice
waited for her and her horde.