N/A What the Hell Happened?

Terry

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This is an article I wrote for my high school web page. Thought some of you "old guys" might enjoy.

What Happened?​
I remember growing up in a small east Texas town named Marshall. It was a grand time to be alive and growing. I couldn’t wait until I graduated high school and could get out of town and make my mark on the world.

If you had asked me what my plan was, I couldn’t tell you. I just wanted to leave the small hick town and get away from everyone where I could be free. I was also getting into trouble and my Mom called the Army recruiter and the next week I was on my way to boot camp at Fort Polk, Louisiana.

So, I was out and free and except for a visit or two, I never went back to Marshall. The first thing I realized was how big the U.S.A. was. In boot camp we had a Cajun Sergeant and also two Afro-American guys from Brooklyn, New York. I had to act as interpreter because the Sergeant couldn’t understand those with a Brooklyn accent and they sure couldn’t understand a Cajun accent.

I finished basic training and went to diesel mechanic school and since I had been working for Mosley’s 66 , I was able to test out and then started teaching electrical automotive theory. I was doing well. Then I received orders to go to an undisclosed place in “Southeast Asia.” I wasn’t versed in Geography and remember thinking at least it’s not Vietnam. I was shortly informed that “Southeast Asia” was Vietnam.

I really didn’t mind because I was doing something worthwhile. I was fighting for a cause. Not sure what kind of cause but it had meaning and it had value, even though at the time I didn’t totally understand all of it.

Fast forward forty plus years and I have grown a lot wiser and definitely more educated. However, I find myself longing for the good ole days when life was much more simpler and not moving so fast.

Sure we had problems just like everyone else. We had hardships and injustices. I remember a neighbor who lost all he had in a house fire. We stood out in his front yard unable to help. I remember my sister not being able to get in the lead car to go to Bossier City, Louisiana, and that car hit a bridge covert and killed five out of the six. I remember my boss’s son being killed coming back from Fort Polk one rainy night.

There were tough times and hard times but we trudged along knowing deep inside that there had to be a purpose and a reason and some day we would figure it out.

That some day has never been figured out. It has always been illusive and never definitive. However, it was all we had to hold onto and we clutched it earnestly while conquering the injustices and wrongs we were facing.

Let’s not get too depressed because we had a lot of good days. Marriage, family, and relations let us draw upon each other and share good times together: fishing in Caddo Lake and Lake of the Pines, swimming and feeling the little Brim peck at your legs, frog gigging and survival trips on the Sabine River.

I remember earning merit badges for the Boy Scout Troop and romance at the Corral Club. There is just something about holding a girl in your arms and smelling her hair and perfume that will fill you with emotions that will always be remembered in the back of your mind.

Now, as a senior citizen, I have passed the midway point in my life. Actually, I have passed the two thirds point. The world is a big mess and I would be lost without my wife of forty plus years and the good memories I still have.

When looking back, it seems we have lost the moral and ethic values we once had. Worse, returning to our era is just not an option. So we are forced and compelled to adjust, adapt, ignore, and look the other way while the younger generation moves into the position of running the world.

Our opinions are old and out of date and we are left to minding our children and accused of not paying attention; sort of like my Mother and Dad felt when I was growing up. :)

The other day, I joined a forum and started discussing politics. After ranting and raving a few days, my wife politely informed me that I needed to get out of the Forum because I was going around yelling, upset, and screaming at the T.V.

I repented for my actions, as soon as the rage left, :yes: and prayed for the idiot in the Forum and on the T.V. So, feeling down and rejected because I could not voice my opinion well enough to change their minds, I resorted to writing an article where I could express my frustrations.

I feel much better now and am in a perfectly good mood. I will try and maintain this attitude as long as I can.

I still have a nagging question though, What the Hell Happened In The Last Forty Years? :dunno:

Terry Warner
2/23/2013
 
Well, I could tell ya, but that'd get us sent to the spin zone.
 
It's called social evolution. As we age we become irrelevant and outdated.

The WWII generation before you looked at he Viet Nam generation and shook their heads.

The WWI generation did the same.

In the civil war honor and country came before anything else. 100,000 men were killed on a battle field defending the honor of their family and sense of duty to county.

Today, you have discovered what the millennia has taught for generations.
 
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You must not get distracted by the sheeple.
Find what you want to do next - and do it.
After 50 years of running my business and working 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, I retired - to farming.
Now I'm only working 12 hours a day, 7 days a week.
I may be in trouble though.
A local judge allowed as how I am having more fun than a man my age is legally allowed.
Of course, his judgement is suspect being that shortly after saying that he went all in, against my inside straight.
 
Kinda reminds me of this story:

Old ranch owner John farmed a small ranch in Montana. The Montana Wage and Hour Department claimed he was not paying proper wages to his workers and sent an agent out to interview him.

'I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,' demanded the agent.

'Well,' replied old John, 'There's my ranch hand who's been with me for 3 years. I pay him $600 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $500 a week plus free room and board.

Then there's the half-wit who works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night.'

'That's the guy I want to talk to, the half-wit,' says the agent.

'That would be me,' replied old rancher John.

:D


Mike
 
Terry, just remember, when we leave this planet we take with us, our planet. The kids will never know how it was, or how it could be.
 
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