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| Kathleen was not available this day, so a selfie sufficed. |
St. Paul was last year's sorry mistake. The many abandoned buildings in the warmer flood plains of New Orleans provide better shelter to the resourceful itinerant not requiring running water or central heating.
This somewhat-inebriated duo cordially welcomed Stan to a morning interview on Frenchman's Street and shared a few chapters of their life stories in return for a couple of bucks and a respectful attitude.
You'll be pleased to learn that Billy is a former military man, a specialist in ordnance and high explosives. Stan, standing upwind of Billy's worn fatigues, recognized an engineer's patch and a unit emblem.
Billy had been imprisoned for an undisclosed misdeed when he was given the opportunity to shorten his sentence by entering our nation's standing Army. Stan had also avoided prison time by entering our nation's Army, so a kinship was immediately developed between these brothers-at-arms.
Billy took his ordnance skills to Afghanistan, interestingly, before 9-11, where he blew up mountain caves in futile attempts to deny their use by the Taliban. He detailed for Stan a series of exploits requiring steady hands and steely nerves, the envy of any MacGyver. He insisted these tactics occurred pre-9-11, which begs verification unavailable on a busy sidewalk. Was the U.S. actually blowing up caves in Afghanistan before 9-11?
Ever more mysterious was the wiry Cherokee from Oklahoma. Little was learned from Kaska. It was hard to get past the amateurish tattoo covering his right cheek and forehead to try understanding the why if not the how of such self-inflicted disfigurement. Equally difficult, of course, is understanding the piercings performed by wealthy suburban white girls, so the mystery awaits another time.
Soon the interview was over and Stan turned and walked away, bidding this sad story good bye. Over the years, Billy may have lost his military bearing and discipline somewhat, but never his pride of service to the wide magnificent country that he now so freely roams.
"Sir," he shouted. Stan turned and looked back. Billy had drawn himself to attention and stood stiffly there on Frenchman Street in a proud military salute.
From a great distance away, it was quickly and poignantly returned.
This somewhat-inebriated duo cordially welcomed Stan to a morning interview on Frenchman's Street and shared a few chapters of their life stories in return for a couple of bucks and a respectful attitude.
You'll be pleased to learn that Billy is a former military man, a specialist in ordnance and high explosives. Stan, standing upwind of Billy's worn fatigues, recognized an engineer's patch and a unit emblem.
Billy had been imprisoned for an undisclosed misdeed when he was given the opportunity to shorten his sentence by entering our nation's standing Army. Stan had also avoided prison time by entering our nation's Army, so a kinship was immediately developed between these brothers-at-arms.
Billy took his ordnance skills to Afghanistan, interestingly, before 9-11, where he blew up mountain caves in futile attempts to deny their use by the Taliban. He detailed for Stan a series of exploits requiring steady hands and steely nerves, the envy of any MacGyver. He insisted these tactics occurred pre-9-11, which begs verification unavailable on a busy sidewalk. Was the U.S. actually blowing up caves in Afghanistan before 9-11?
Ever more mysterious was the wiry Cherokee from Oklahoma. Little was learned from Kaska. It was hard to get past the amateurish tattoo covering his right cheek and forehead to try understanding the why if not the how of such self-inflicted disfigurement. Equally difficult, of course, is understanding the piercings performed by wealthy suburban white girls, so the mystery awaits another time.
Soon the interview was over and Stan turned and walked away, bidding this sad story good bye. Over the years, Billy may have lost his military bearing and discipline somewhat, but never his pride of service to the wide magnificent country that he now so freely roams.
"Sir," he shouted. Stan turned and looked back. Billy had drawn himself to attention and stood stiffly there on Frenchman Street in a proud military salute.
From a great distance away, it was quickly and poignantly returned.
