Tagged By Cookie

To Profess About Myself, Six Unusual And Unknown Things:

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my unusual things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my unusual things.

Enough Julie Andrews. But I don't boast so let me find the time to answer in the spririt of things, even though I wouldn't respond to such a request to anyone BUT an old Seabee.

1.) I was aborned of hardworking parents on a small island off the coast of NY State. Parochial schooling gave me a taste for discipline and I sated it further with a wee stint in the United States Marine Corps. It was that or the Seminary, but what I imagined to be a vocation began dwindling to an affection after discovering women. While in the service, I had various occupations, but all of them revolved around the core of the Corps. Kill, or teach killing. There was a year-long stint as a prison guard in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, but I arrived at a time they were beginning to phase it out of existence so mercifully that specialty ended and not a moment too soon. Finding oneself beneath a pile of rioting inmates was in the line of duty so beyond complaint, but more than wearisome.

2.) Upon leaving the service of these United States I finished up with some schooling that had been ongoing since my enlistment, then roamed for a time in search of the perfect place to live. I thought I'd found it in Sydney, Australia, and would have been correct save for the illogical immigration laws that had me skipping in and out of the country whenever a resident Visa needed re-upping. That, and the fact that virtually all of my family lived in the states made it an expensive proposition to flit hither and yon so often. I supplemented my income by taking work in Indonesia and Malaysia, with an occasional foray to Cambodia. While home for a time, an old friend asked my opinion on a screenplay he'd been sent to peruse. Born into limitless wealth, he'd dabble in one investment or another until a theatrical bug took firm hold of his senses. The script in question was horrid, and we spent many secluded hours reworking it until it met with his approval. A production company in California purchased the piece, and I found myself co-author of a work that saw the camera. This led to several years of what is referred to as script-doctoring, and while the money was very good the leave-your-brain-at-home factor was very bad, and there came a day I could no longer force myself to appease the lowest common denominator. I sold some manuscripts of my own, fussed with the occasional script-gig, but went my merry way sans the glitter of Hollywood. I grew up learning lines and singing and dancing and rushing from one performace to another, so was stupid enough to believe that talent was all that was necessary in accomodating the lords of never land. But those are other tales that would take up far too much space and belong in a biography rather than a quickie 6-shooter.

3.) Bill Clinton left office in 2000, and it was safe for me to return home with honor intact. His election then re-election had left me disjointed and for the first time in my adult life, without a direction, and more than a little unhappy. I'd pegged the man as a used car dealer masquerading as President, and his wife was even worse. My new Commander in Chief was a Bush, and while his sire wasn't all that and a bag of chips, he wasn't the laughing stock of all men of good will. Home again.

4.) But not for long. On September 11, 2001 I was roused from the depth of a good read by an incessant telephone. My brother informed me that a "small plane" had accidentally crashed into one of the Twin Towers, and since it was less than a mile away I threw on a sweater and raced to the scene. He'd been working as a cook in a nearby restaurant that was yet to open that morning for business, so leaving to go have a look wasn't a big deal. 2 days later he made it back. It took me an additional day to return to my apartment, but emergency services had all but gutted the block while moving heavy equipment through the area and most of what I left there was gone.

5.) To the Midwest not so young man. Sioux City, Iowa is approximately halfway between NY and California, so there I stopped to get my bearings. Making a right took me back home, a left to the land of fruits and nuts. But staying in one place long enough took its toll, and an eventuality reared it's inevitable head. I fell in love with Lisa, she for some unfathomable reason me, and after decades of wandering I suddenly felt at home. It had nothing to do with the location, nothing at all.

6.) Happily married, we moved to Florida. Left behind were the cruelest of winters and shortest of springs. Settling comfortably into a part of Florida that does not suffer the ravages of hurricane season but is southernmost enough in clime to be considered sub-tropical, there is nothing to do but enjoy the company of a good woman and welcome sunshine. This blog and shooting and working with the elderly take up the rest of my time, so it would be impossible to heed the suggestions of what friends I've met here and have a peek into politics. I've done with compromise and the never ending quest for the middle of the road just to keep the peace. For the rest of my sojourn it's back to the high ground, and there I'll stay until they turn off the lights. I am, and forever will be, a Marine. I don't think another Clinton will force me into a strategic withdrawal, that's unless Lisa wants to see Borneo.

Now drop and give me twenty.