Jimmy

Through my grandson I’ve met a 10 year old boy in my neighborhood. His name is, well let’s call him Jimmy. He is one of the politest kids I’ve met and I’m talking over a lifetime of children. Over the last so many months I’ve observed this polite child and how considerate he is in almost extraordinary ways. Today he basically watched over my grandson for hours as he and the other kids played on the street. He looked me in the eye and assured me he would make sure my grandson was safe. I took him for his word.

My great friend and fellow Vietnam Veteran Ren Fitts gave me a VHS camera with all the accouterments and it was in my garage when Jimmy came up the driveway pushing his bike. I noted both tires were thread-bare and I commented on it. In the most adult manner, he politely explained to me that he “did indeed need new tires, but at this present time, my dad is not financially able to actually replace them… but, if you would just air up the tire, sir, it will be good for 3 days.” It’s important to note he is either an Academy Award nominee, or totally without guile.

In my heart I wanted to immediately replace those tubes and tires, well remembering how it was when I rode that iron horse and how many soda bottles I had to redeem to get the money for new rubber. Replacing a boy’s tires and tube in 2019 could be considered a pervert crime of some sorts and as bad as I want to help, I couldn’t. That’s his parent’s job… but I do have something I may can donate toward this young boys future. (Please excuse my Texan)

The day I met Jimmy he revealed that he had written a number of “stories” and did I want to read them? Of course I did and I explained that some regard me as a writer. He rode off on his bike only to return with an 8X11 binder with about 5 multi-sheet drawings with captions. It was his vision and he wanted to share it… with me. Heck yes I was interested. I gave him a very encouraging nerdish review of his work and he seemed pleased.

My first impression of the boy was he was so polite, he simply must be an abused child.

I was wrong.

It turns out he lost his mother 2 years ago and is damaged goods. He told me he still has nightmares but “has learned to handle it.”

“What is that Mr. Marshall?”

“It is out-dated technology, Jimmy, but is really cool. It’s a VHS camera and all the trappings. It’s yours if you want it…” The plastic box before him had a shoulder-mount large VHS Camera and I showed him how you mounted it up high by his head. His eyes were like saucers as his brain processed what was before him. With his interest in stories and writing, I felt like I was sowing a seed, much like handing a guitar to a 10 year old Jimi Hendrix.

Jimmy took possession of the camera and came back and asked permission to supervise my grandson on the next street over. They were going to stage a water-balloon fight and he promised me all would be okay. I gave him my blessing and the two boys rode off to do what kids on bikes do… much like my brothers and I did 50 years ago.

It can only happen while shopping!

As the big man is my witness, every word of this is unquestionable and void of hyperbolic incredibility. With that taken into consideration, let me tell you what happened yesterday right here in the Tri-cities on what used to be "out in the country" Garth Road.

Let me first lay a little foundation to this tale of extreme brutality and sweaty violence. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking I beat some Chuck Norris 28 year old heavily muscled criminal to the point he needed 4 paramedics... right?  Not to be and thanks for the vote of confidence. I do appreciate it. I really do.

Because I live the life of a behind the scenes self-effacing servant, I feel compelled to tell you I did not do so well. No ma'am. No sir. I have a few more bruises as evidence of my misfortune. The sad part is I now realize the reason I did so poorly against my assailant, is I just didn't see them as a tangible threat until they fully engaged me and in the most embarrassing manner I might add.

Mind you, I'm still in the foundation of this predicament mainly for clarity. Because of my background, I have always felt like I could handle about any hand to hand fighter, at least long enough to deliver the fabled "Dim mak", which is as we know, is the death touch, all seasoned fighters fear, but few can deliver. I cannot divulge whether I can or can't, as I am sworn to secrecy like those Mason fellers. To those guys, their big deal is a secret handshake. To those select few it is the Dim mak, which loosely translated is "Divine bowels". I admit, it doesn't translate well.

Now, the details. It was hot as the red handle on a cast iron skillet on the fire and as made my way toward the entrance to get a shopping cart. Did I say it was hot? Well imagine my shock when I realized I had stepped on a blob of grape bubble gum that would choke a 6 year old. I didn't realize I had stepped in it until as walking, it pulled my new pair of black high-top Chuck Taylor's off. Seeing the gum was on the bottom of both shoes, I went ten feet before falling forward as the stretched gum literally and physically and embarrassingly jerked my shoes off.

As I hit the parking lot, the only thing that kept me from grunting loudly (and other unmentioned rude noises) was the trash. I might be wrong, but I think it was a large fast food bag or two full of chicken bones and such that actually padded my fall. Being the extreme fitness buff I used to be, I attempted to do a kip after rolling on my back... without success. I slowly mounted my feet and stretched, laughing in case anyone was looking. No one saw or cared as far as I could tell and I brushed off my previous embarrassed state. I quickly tied my shoes back on and began my search for a cart.

But that is not what really set the day wrong.

The more I think about it, the stupider I think I must have been. Let me explain. I'm a big guy and I'm active. Sometimes I'm too active and I start showing out in the gym (since I'm usually the only man in a Zumba class... well you get the idea). The truth is, even at my advanced age, I look a little too sturdy to appear to be a good victim. Little did I know the person who calf-roped me (figuratively speaking - come on!) had me by a good 186 pounds. That is an estimate of weight times mass times impact. On me. Four times. Or more.

Now let me say this. I have Vietnam Veteran license plates on my Jeep and truck. Is it possible to appear more threatening to a motorist who reads that when they are behind me? No. It is not, so how is it I was beaten so soundly with no regard to this warning? Now that I think of it, they appeared after I had fallen down and didn't see my threatening plates.

The sun was so bright, I staggered to my feet and just under the overhang was a lone shopping cart. All the others were being used or out in the parking lot and so hot, you could cook food on them. Looking up I thought at first it was one of those old style dark red soda machines, but no. It was a very large person who was laughing at me, like they knew something I didn't. They want the cart! Both me and my adversary looked at the wheeled blessing and then out to the hot flaming parking lot. Then we looked at each other. I've never, ever...

To be continued.

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The Casual Fun of Trash-Talking in Media

No one should have the right to force anyone to mute moral or social implications of what they say or write in the media, or we defeat freedom of speech, plain and simple. Criticize, yes, but to forcibly stop them from writing or speaking their mind, however misguided you may believe them to be, is crossing the line. Freedom of speech is disappearing and it is a foundational right. However, this is exactly what is happening every single day not only in the free US, but around the world as we become more globalized.

Vitriolic social pressure is stifling free speech. If someone doesn't like something, they just get louder and sometimes physical. In this environment, people not only get confrontational, they feel assaulted and want to press charges. Civil debate is lost. The worst of the worse is the comments section on almost anything on the Internet. Reading peoples juvenile and vicious attacks on what someone wrote, sang, performed, or spoke is akin to a visit to a cesspool for a meal. This is one reason I have all but stopped making a comment on YouTube. It doesn't matter if it is Mother Teresa or Stephen Hawking.  658 people dislike the video and then in the comments section call the sainted woman a tramp and the brilliant Astrophysicist, a &^%$ idiot. 

It would be very easy to exclude ourselves from these folks, but the truth is many of us are guilty on some level. Pick out a popular female pop singer, famous for bawdy performances and then deliberately say something good about her to a friend. Listen to their response. Now what would be your reaction if they did this to you? Your defense is you have higher morals or ethics and you don't associate with "people of her culture." Your intolerance is showing, but you haven't crossed the line and wished her dead, or have you? Never mind that Jesus the Christ regularly rubbed shoulders with sinners and harlots with her same perceived values.

Remember the phrase, "Them's fightin' words!"? There is such a thing as inner service rivalry in the military and it is common among "friends" who have served or are serving, but its important to understand it is amongst friends, or "them's fightin' words" comes into play. This is when a person feels the threat is actually a verbal assault and it gets physical. The person who attacks your branch of service is deliberately provoking a verbal exchange with the implication of backing up what they are asserting.

At my advanced age, this is very rare, but happened to me in the grocery store the other day. I had been to the VA for a physical and was standing in line with my Vietnam Veteran USAF black hat on, when a stranger walked up to me and said, "Air Force, huh? Only the Navy counts." I turned and looked at him in a non-confrontation stare and then turned my back on him. I did 2 tours. This fellow appeared to be maybe 40. I didn't need to justify anything to this man.

He replied to my back, "You aren't going to respond to that?" I turned slowly and said, "No." and turned away. He walked off and the man behind me asked what he said. I told him, "the guy insulted me." and let it go. I posted this on Facebook to gauge reaction and most people saw it as an insult and I acknowledged that the guy was maybe joking. The bottom line was, I think I handled it well. A few years ago, maybe I would have kicked it back at him.

People are losing the ability to civilly debate almost anything and I blame technology for this. They can sit safely away and hammer anyone with anonymity and crude talk and there is no repercussion. They do it in their car too by driving without consideration for those around them. I've often wondered how long they would get away with what they do, if they were standing face to face with those they choose to slander, curse, or wish dead.

I can't change the world, but I can police myself and work on being kinder and more considerate. I can learn to accept that other drivers simply don't get it that their driving puts me and them in danger, but I may have to work extra hard on that one.

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What 50 years of driving has taught me

50 years ago, I cranked the 4 cylinder, air-cooled engine in the first car I drove and rolled out on the macadam roads of North Georgia. The year was 1967 and I was driving a 1963 Corvair Monza, which I bought using the wages I earned working at the Tastee Freeze in Woodstock, Georgia. I was 15 years old.

I headed for Canton 20 miles north, on the winding, hilly 2 lane roads so I could take my driver's license test. I shifted the 4-speed manual transmission like a NASCAR pro, having thoroughly qualified the skill on the dirt road down from my house on Arnold Mill road. My Mom would watch me pull out of our driveway and motor down a quarter mile to a dirt rod, so I could develop the skills safely and as soon as I was out of her sight, I would gun the motor and run that back road as if I had 10 Federal cars in pursuit.

I knew nothing of Ralph Nadar's book, "Unsafe at any speed", which doomed the Corvair and I did donuts and slid sideways as often as the dirt road would allow. I was learning to drive and in North Georgia at that time, it was a much needed skill. When winter arrived, I was well prepared for the black ice and using a clutch at the top of a hill to negotiate a right turn at a stop sign using all 3 pedals. I was developing skills most Baytownians would be solely lacking under the same circumstances, as this was my Drivers Education.

To date, I have never caused an accident. Maybe this is because I still keep the one car length for every 10 miles per hour rule I learned in the driver's handbook. I still do this, even on the crowded freeways. If people want to jump over in front of me to fill that void and, I let them and I don't get mad. I leave enough space that I don't even have to tap my brakes.

In 1986, my paternal grandfather's passing necessitated I make the drive from Baytown to Atlanta in winter. My brothers and I were allowed to take Bob Bailey's big Olds and we headed East on I-10 into what was heralded as the worst snowstorm in I-10's history. Prior to this, I had spent 2 winters in Montana, while stationed at Malmstrom Air Force Base and had made a trip across the Continental Divide to try and bring back an AWOL Airman. I was driving my personal vehicle, a 1952 International pickup and we went up and over the Divide in deep snow and after not finding the fellow, made the return trip at night again in heavy snow. I was 18 years old.

I still remember coming to a full stop on the top of a mountain and a herd of mule deer walking slowly in front of me and my 24 year old sergeant. He was from Pennsylvania and used to heavy snow, but he didn't feel comfortable enough in those conditions to ask to drive.  On our way to Atlanta, my brothers and I witnessed very many instances of 18-wheeler trucks off the side of the road and many cars, but I kept rolling east until we slid into hilly Atlanta. During our stay there, I taught two of my younger brothers how to drive on ice and snow, as they got their licenses years later in Houston.

What in the world does all of this have to do with us in 2017 and driving in the city limits of Baytown and Harris county? Everything. It's a war zone out there. I hate it and love it. At 65, I have 50 years experience in navigating roads and streets. I admit I am very judgmental, but also surprisingly tolerant at times. If you have a handicap tag or a very gray head, I am forgiving, If you have a cell phone stuck to your face, I am unsympathetic to your lack of awareness. You will get my custom "ah-oo-ga" horn every time. My bride hates this by the way and often blurts, "Please don't!"

I am a very deliberate driver, in that I am a stickler for coming to a complete stop at stop signs and red lights and if you tailgate or try to pressure me by getting on my bumper, you are going to get a very good look at my Vietnam Veteran license plates and a good squirt of my windshield washer fluid as it blows over the top of my Jeep. If you are too close to me, I will slow down, inhibiting your progress. Driving too close to another vehicle is like walking one foot behind someone on a sidewalk. It's very rude and I do not tolerate rude behavior on almost any level. I make no apology for my reaction when operating a moving vehicle.

I think drivers forget that they are actually hurtling through space when driving and forget they are risking their and your life so they can get where they are going. This is why they do everything under the sun when driving. They accelerate to a red light and never think braking is the solution to any situation. Lord help you if you try to pull out in front of them, as they will automatically accelerate to close whatever gap was there. Here we are about to celebrate the birth of Jesus the Christ child and you would think that maybe, just maybe, the spirit of this gift would play into their thoughts.

We have a few days left to be kind to each other before Christmas and then a whole new year to make changes in how we approach the simple act of driving a car and the people around us. How about we start today to be more considerate and slow down? Leave a little earlier and when someone wants to change lanes in front of us, we let off the gas and let them in. Merry Christmas.

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The New Stupid World Order

Is it just me or does it once again appear that the whole world is sinking into a state of chaos? From the simplest of tasks, like following the rules of the road to people dressing up like clowns and chasing people, the world has plainly gone nuts.

Just last week, within 3 days of each other I had  3 occasions where a car approached at a higher rate of speed than the neighborhood speed limit of 30mph, by coming over into my lane because their lane was blocked with cars – not mine. Common rules of the road dictate they wait as I pass, but no, they can’t wait. Their ignorance of the law and their impatience and entitlement would not let them. Not to mention, I perceived them to be idiotic and rude and that my friend is a dangerous combination.

A week or two before that, the same thing happened and I would not give up my lane. They were forced to slow down and were barely able to slip by my left side without a head-on collision. My speed was about 10mph and theirs was closer to 40mph, before they braked almost to a stop. My reaction was because it was happening with more frequency and my lifted Jeep would have climbed up and over the top of their racy little import sedan.

Prior to this, it was a rare occasion – just like clown sightings.

Now we have a couple of copycats, who are falling into the imbecilic and rude category and they showed up in Jenkins Park. Are people so stupid that they think something like wearing clown clothes and masks and chasing people is a good idea? I’m afraid that if I encounter one, I will hold them close to the ground with my foot on the side of their head until the cops arrive, fire ants and all.

I can see the headlines that would flash across the Internet:  “240 pound muscled, indoor cycling instructor, Vietnam Veteran, black belt man-handles Halloween-costumed unarmed teen boy in public park.  Charges being reviewed by a grand jury.”  Oh, you think that couldn’t happen in our new stupid world order?

We have people right here in this town that would go ballistic and want me lynched. “How dare someone discourage anyone from dressing like a clown in public?” they would cry. They would use social media because they consider themselves “progressives”. Geeze does this mean common sense should be ignored? Almost every cherished idea is under attack it seems. I am all for progress, it just has to come slowly, so we can feel out the repercussions and make reversals. Remember dropping the drinking age from 21 to 18?

In a society that requires law and order, we are turning into the Wild West, where anything we can get away with is the new rule. A society that takes more than it gives is doomed. I’ve said it so many times, but it needs repeating. When people put their agendas ahead of everyone and everything around them, there is going to be chaos. Speak up and “how dare you?” is screamed in your face.

I watched a goodly number of videos where marchers have attempted to block roads with their numbers and the drivers feel threatened enough to run people over. The crowd now screams foul and literally tries to kill the drivers. What? I’d drive over them too if I felt threatened. Heckfire, as far back as I can remember I knew better than to walk out on the road. Are they really that stupid? You walk in front of a moving car and you get what you deserve.

There are people posting videos of them driving around blowing train horns to scare people. Guess what? It is so loud it isn’t funny to anyone but the morons doing it. The so-called prank videos are the same.  They are not pranks by any stretch and hitting a stranger in the back with a ball bat is not a joke, it’s an attack. People racing through red lights so they don’t have to stop are not anything more than dangerous drivers breaking the law. They kill other people when it goes wrong and all you have to do to see an example is drive in Baytown.

It’s the stupid new world order of give it to me, its mine. I walk into the gym almost every day and as I do, I pick up energy drink cans and protein bar wrappers in the parking lot and put them in the trash can at the door. I shake my head every single time I do it too. The other day, someone threw a weighted rubber ball against the wall of the Group X room and caved in the sheet rock. They bugged out and didn’t say a word and I found it when I came in for Spin class. I guess they thought it would bounce back? More head shaking.

Sometimes I feel like a three-eyed man in the land of the blind, but I would wager that many of you reading this see it the same as I do. It’s enough to make you lose faith in mankind.

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Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Alcoholism - an article by Helen Snider

Vietnam Veterans, Alcoholism, and a New Perspective

Every Vietnam veteran is a hero but it would seem that not everyone remembers that: In fact, the issues faced by Vietnam veterans have been sorely overlooked by the central Government since the end of the conflict and this continues to this day. Approximately nine million American men entered military service during the lengthy process of the Vietnam war (which has the dubious honor of being America’s longest war) and yet public spending on veterans has been consistently low and consistently inconsistent (with the average vet in Boston receiving $25,000 per annum in benefits, whilst the average vet in Cape Cod receives just $5,500 per annum in benefits, for example). This poor treatment has served to exacerbate feelings of being disconnected from society for some veterans, leading to post-traumatic stress disorder, alcoholism, drug misuse, and other mental health disorders cause by trauma.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Alcoholism

60 to 80 per cent of Vietnam veterans seeking treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder
 (PTSD) are also presenting with some form of alcohol abuse. The Veterans Administration who primarily deal with the care of veterans from Vietnam conservatively estimate that between 500,000 and 700,000 of Vietnam veterans are still experiencing severe mental and social problems related to their experiences whilst they were in Vietnam. Significant numbers of this vast number of men are also alcoholics. In layman’s terms, these men are choosing to use alcohol to numb the pain and attempt to erase the memories of what they experienced when they were on active duty in Vietnam.  It is interesting that most veterans choose alcohol rather than illicit drugs, no doubt because of the socially acceptable nature of choosing to drink a beer or head to a bar: staying within the confines of the law and under the radar of what is societally normal is important here. It is clear, then, that alcoholism is a problem and has been a problem for many Vietnam Vets.

Treatment Options

Treatment plans for alcoholic veterans, particularly those veterans who are also presenting with some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, has always been vigorous and intensive. Often involving intensive therapy with a trained psychologist, the two conditions are treated simultaneously. Group counselling is recommended as the most successful form of treatment, which is generally offered in VA centers alongside other veterans, as many emotionally battered Veterans, particularly those suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, struggle to trust or connect to others but find it easier to open up to and forge relationships with those that have experienced the same war time situations of themselves. The goal of those counselling sessions and treatment plans is to cure both the PTSD and the alcoholism with complete abstinence and sobriety.

Yet a new perspective posed by new research from the FDA could change that, although no one knows yet what impact this might have on veterans. Sobriety has always been the main goal of all alcoholic rehabilitation programs: this includes both expensive residential rehabilitation centers and the free AA support groups that are held in every town up and down the country. Now though the FDA have turned this on its head by suggesting that complete sobriety now doesn’t have to be the sole goal of treatment for alcoholism. In February they drafted an article that proposed that sobriety and complete abstinence was no longer essential for an alcoholic to no longer be considered ‘sober’: instead reduced drinking and consistent ‘non heavy drinking’ days would have the same effect. This flies in the face of the conventional wisdom that alcoholics are, by the very nature of their condition, unable to have just a drink or two and that they will always be vulnerable to the impact of ingesting alcohol regularly.                     

How this new report will affect the treatment plans of vulnerable Vietnam veterans is yet to be seen: the concept of allowing an alcoholic to still drink regularly seems counterproductive to the hard work of the therapy and counselling they have already undertaken. And these brave veterans who have already given so much for their country certainly don’t deserve to be used as guinea pigs to test this new theory from the FDA.