Another Visit From Darkness

It was when I saw the little girl in an alley when coming back from the Bronx Courthouse that it hit me. The little girl was dirty and alone when her mother appeared, it seemed out of nowhere, and snatched the girl up.

The girl’s mother was obviously high and when she looked in my direction she ran. Not that I could follow after her in a car in the Bronx. I saw this before in the Philippines, in Korea and in other places I would choose to forget. It hit me and dragged me back into the darkness of my own mind.

When I got home I found myself in the darkness of my makeshift office, clutching a near empty bottle of Hennessy. I was in lament for the hopeless, the hurting and the lost remembering a day I was empowered to change a situation, a power I thought used judiciously, only to make matters worse.

The knot in my soul had me clutching my chest, now shooting through my insides with all kinds of pain. I looked at my mostly empty bottle, my lament was even deeper and contempt for myself made me laugh.

The still black of the room gave way to shifting shadows. The draft through the cracks of the old house kept me cold, me and darkness where communing again. I thought about the suffering children, the mothers who lost their kids to war, idiocy or accidents, I thought about the hungry and the pain filled open eyes of a little girl. I poured myself a little of the Hennessy into the dirty snifter on my desk as pain shot through my chest, a little liquor could settle that down.

The shadows began to shift, but there was no light, no doors had opened but I was being visited. At first I felt apprehension. Then I felt relief. If it was the reaper I couldn’t do a damn thing about it except offer him a drink and face the music.

I fell into a foggy haze but I was relaxed and the pain, still there, but only an echo of what it was. “It stays with you RJ, it stays with you until you let mortality go…” Darkness, my old friend, was here for some advise, but I could give him none.

So Darkness called me to remember that which I live to forget. “How many badges have you worn? How many authorities did you represent? Why do you try to fit where you don’t belong? Would anything really change the reasons you are here?”

My chest fluttered real funny as I tried to answer, Darkness said, "speak softly lest you wake the dead.” Now I wondered who he was referring to.

I said “I wore three, no…four badges. I represented at least five different authorities, if you include Commanding Generals and Operational Commanders add at least another five.

I came home to help mom and dad when my life fell apart out west, I still have to keep my word and look after Mom. I don’t try to fit at all, I just show up until they tell me to go away. And on intense reflection, nothing would change the reasons I am here, I would choose to do the same things, Darkness old man.”

“Tell me RJ, did the little girl in the Bronx remind you of anyone…like the little teen bar slave in Korea, or the Philippina dancer chained to the floor in Naha or maybe the Latina girl tied to a gate in East LA. Your gun, your badge, your daring moves, your cold reckoning… your self-righteousness and your decency couldn’t save any of them RJ, why?”

The pain in my chest was subsiding as if an elephant were getting off my chest. I took another sip of my liquor and answered my old friend.

“Darkness you know this…remember the little girl when I was growing up? Dad had the furniture store and the Moving Company. She was about 7 years old. Always dirty and played around the trucks. She always pestered me for candy or money because she knew ‘my Dad had a store and trucks.’ It was near Christmas, I gave her a dollar and she ran across the street to the candy store and got hit by a car. I ran out in the street to stop the other cars and almost got hit, I couldn’t do anything.”

The sharp stinging pains in my chest were back. I wondered why Darkness was bringing this up, why he wouldn’t let it go. I said, “stop this” as I reached for the bottle that fell to the floor. I couldn’t reach the bottle, I could not get up from my chair.

“RJ, you didn’t answer the question…why couldn’t you save her and what about the other one, why couldn’t you save any of them?” The pain snatched me to the floor and I could not get up. As I reached for the bottle laying next to me , Darkness softly said, “Answer!”

“The other one? Darkness, do you mean the little girl hit by a car outside our apartment in LA. The little girl who was killed by the car on Venice Blvd near Gramercy Place…right outside my window, she was thrown to the curb. My wife and I ran to her as she called for her mother. I stopped traffic, got blankets, got the ambulance driver to drive right on the sidewalk. I got the girls mother right on the scene…my first official acts as a Deputy. I couldn’t save any of them Darkness.”

My arms were wrapped around my chest in agony as I looked up staring at absolute blackness. Darkness was everywhere and nowhere when again he asked me, “why couldn’t you save them?”

I yelled, “Only God has the power to raise the dead and save the damned. I don’t have that power... and authority itself can only change conditions when it chooses, not when its own servants want to change it. That’s why.” The pain stopped suddenly and everything got darker. I didn’t know where I was.

“RJ” said Darkness, “God’s power has surely saved the damned and raised the dead…your still here.”

Darkness continued, “your lament, your grief, your guilt, your shame…won’t save anyone.

Do what you did when you took on the Church and challenged them to help the kids in your neighborhood.

Do what you did when you challenged your superiors and their authority, that is, remind those around you to do something good in a world full of bad.”

Darkness said, “You will be an immortal all too soon, live this life with all the strength that is in you. You know how to forgive others. Forgive yourself.” All of the sudden light left me blinded for a moment, funny, when I could see it was nothingness now, blinded by light.

I soon saw the daylight and everything around me. The bottle was still nearly empty. I was full of resolve, I know what to do. So I leave you with one message and several minutes of Christmas music video.

The message is ‘agape’ that is love. Not lust, sex love, friend love, family love or even patriotic love. This love ‘agape’ is defined by not doing because of what you feel, but doing the most right despite what you feel. So the best I can do for you is to get you to feel my pain and hope you can reach a higher love.

Merry Christmas and make a Happy New Year

RJ

Mad Holiday Blues

“'Lawd! Have Mercy Jeezus', baby calm down…everything is gonna be alright, just trust in the Lord” said Sarah, the elder black matriarch on the phone in her Westbury home. “Look Tina, the police have to take her to the hospital if they used mace…baby where you at now… your still in the checkout line at WalMart?

Why didn’t you go with Laquita in the police car…what do you mean you didn’t want to lose your place in line? You silly bitch, she’s got my money and my shopping list…what? Oh, good. Did you get everything…that’s good honeychild, thank you.”

The late sixtiyish grey haired black lady in her padded rocking chair listened intently as her granddaughter Tina continued to relate details of the incident. “Don’t worry I’m gonna call AnnieMae now, Laquita may be your cousin but she’s AnnieMae’s grandbaby…my sister needs to help me with this mess.

Don’t forget to bring my change Tina, that’s why Laquita had my money in the first place, you got a problem getting my money back to me… OK baby…I’m hanging up now.”

Meanwhile, at a prominent Protestant Church in Lakeview, Mother James leaves after the morning service. As she slowly made her way home she hears on the radio about an incident of shopper rage at WalMart. As she struggles with her walker to the door she is met by her nephew, Nick. Nick helps his aged Grandmother into the house and relays some bad news about his cousin Laquita. Then the phone rings. Nick get that that for me baby I got to go to the bathroom. “Hello,..Its Nick Aunt Sarah…I know…Grandma’s here…hold on.”

Mother James settled down in her recliner as Nick patiently waited with the phone as she got comfortable. “I’ll take it now Nick…Sarah, how are you…what! Tell me everything real slow…I just took my blood pressure pills I need to get calm…now go ahead Sarah, what happened?”

“Laquita got mad and jumped the check-out line at WalMart with two carts full of everything. According to Tina she was told by the cashier to go to the back of the line, Tina said the manager, a big fat nasty cracker pushed her cart out of the line and she just lost it AnnieMae.”

“Sarah, what happened to her…,” “Well, she beat up two security guards and the manager before the police maced her, threw her to the floor and cuffed her.” Mother Annie Mae James took off her glasses, shook her head and said, “Lawd! Have Mercy Jeezus.”

“Sarah, where is Tina? Didn’t she go with her to that damn sale?” “AnnieMae she’s alright, she got all the gifts and is on her way home.” “Sarah who is with Laquita?”

“Laquita is now at the precinct jail…no injuries just a little scrape on her forhead, she left the hospital but they will transport her to the Jailhouse by Meadowbrook Hospital sometime tonight or tomorrow. She still has to be arraigned.” Mother James put the phone to the other ear and had Nick bring her some orange juice.

“Sarah, Laquita is just under a lot of pressure and this don’t help, go down to the courthouse and tell the judge about what she’s going through…” “AnnieMae they might take her kids from her and we don’t want our great-grand babies in foster care.”

“She just got out of the Army Sarah, maybe the Veteran’s Administration can help?” “With what AnnieMae, the gat damned Army made her crazy to begin with…talk to RJ about getting her a lawyer, and if Veteran’s can help, he would know how to go about getting it done.”

“Sarah, I don’t want to bother RJ too much, I mean he got a lot on him, the mortgage, the taxes, the new oil burner, the new windows to replace the ones Tyrell busted out, he’s got to help Jessie get his car out of the shop and then he’s got to go back to the hospital to get his knee looked at.” “AnnieMae, he’s a single man with no kids, I might have to pull a few strings to get a lawyer, but we’re gonna need help with bail money…”

"Sarah, RJ took Jake in after bailing him out of jail, got him a good lawyer who got Jake off of the charges and RJ paid high legal fees, all he got was cursed out by Jake and Emmie. He told them both what to do and they didn’t do it. Jake is back in Jail and Emmie is looking for more help.” “But look AnnieMae he’s the only one who gets things done.” “Look Sarah I’ll see what I can get him to do. Honey I got to go.”

After coming home from another day of some freelance work, bone tired, aching and stressed over the electric bill and the oil charges, Mother James (my Mom) dropped this bombshell on me.

She wanted me to not only help with bail money, a lawyer and VA contact but with using my room to put Laquita’s kids into while she is in the County jail.

“RJ, you got no kids, your wife is dead, you don’t have a woman that’s any good and Laquita needs help.”

I knew she was picking at scabs looking for me to blow up so she could use it as an excuse to get my brother to do what she wanted as an end around. A reverse of the adage “if mommy won’t daddy will”. I sat down and looked at my mother after she had brought up the past, revisiting all of her hardships and noting I was nowhere around to help (7 years in the Marines, the rest in Law Enforcement and various Ministries across the country and an Ocean). Then I quietly recited the riot act. I started of by saying, "HELL NO!"

“Listen, I’m saying this once, don’t interrupt, don’t even think about justifying anything, just listen: 1) Your tired, hurting and can’t even help yourself cook and clean or walk let alone go messing around the Court house.

2) Laquita has a mother, your daughter Emmie, bother her about getting her soldier girl out of jail. Let Emmie tell the judge about her PTSD afflicted daughter who did three tours and lost a lover and her husband, a husband who did two tours in Afghanistan himself. 3) I don’t have the time, patience, compassion or mindset to deal with anyone’s problems save mine.”

“Finally Ma, stress and depression have been all I’ve been getting for the holiday’s over the last 10 years. I’m doing something different this year. I’m gonna stress everybody else, especially you, if you do anything except what is reasonable and right for your immediate family inside this house. If you don’t keep me happy you won’t have a merry Christmas and you won’t have me around either. I can’t have yesterday but I can possibly have a better tomorrow, with or without any of you.”

Mom said, “What kind of Christian attitude is that, would Jesus do that?”

I said, “If Christ was here he’d cast the demons out of your daughters and cast the devil out of your grandchildren, then he would whip you all out of the temple."

I said, "Since your looking for a Jesus solution, don’t come to me. Go to Jesus, it’s amazing, Jesus wasn’t with any of your kids or grandkids when they did their silly bullshit, but they feel free to drag Jesus’ righteous whip scarred ass into it. You will leave me out of it.”

“RJ, that’s your family.” “No its not, as you constantly remind me, my wife is dead, I have no kids .”

I said, “If any of them were my family and not just relatives, I would put my foot in their asses, have them on their knees in prayer and in Church on Sunday Morning thanking Jesus for not being in jail or on the six o’clock news. This year everybody is going to make me happy by doing right, being right and loving each other…and no, love does not need my money. Tell that thieving preacher you listen to and the rest of his crooked congregation to help Laquita instead of just praying."

Mom threw up her hands and didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. The issue is the holidays, why would anybody go berserk in a checkout line? I thought about it, I had to see my doctor anyway (I have to check in once every six months since the last blood pressure episode) I told the doctor about Laquita, Mom and the rest, so I paid a visit and this is the information I got.

The Doctor said, “RJ, it’s the holiday blues. Many factors can cause the “holiday blues”: stress, fatigue, unrealistic expectations, over-commercialization, financial constraints, and the inability to be with one’s family and friends. The demands of shopping, parties, family reunions and house guests also contribute to feelings of tension.

Because of the economic stress and the stress of the holiday season, we're seeing more and more violence. It's called shopping rage. The crowds, the crush, and the frenzied rush for bargains can trigger fights.

People may also develop other stress responses such as headaches, excessive drinking, over-eating and difficulty sleeping. Even more people experience post-holiday let down after January 1.

This can result from disappointments during the preceding months compounded by the excess fatigue and stress. RJ, you need to develop a strategy for coping with stress as you deal with the holidays.

I said, “OK, Doc like what exactly should I do.” Dr. Bevamanya said, “I can’t tell you what to do but I can give you some professional advice: 1) Keep expectations for the holiday season manageable. Try to set realistic goals for yourself. Pace yourself. Organize your time. Make a list and prioritize the important activities.

2) Be realistic about what you can and cannot do. Don’t put the entire focus on just one day (i.e., Thanksgiving Day). Remember that it’s a season of holiday sentiment, and activities can be spread out to lessen stress and increase enjoyment.

The Doctor continued her discourse while handing me brochures, “3) Remember the holiday season does not banish reasons for feeling sad or lonely; there is room for these feelings to be present, even if the person chooses not to express them.

4) Leave ‘yesteryear’ in the past and look toward the future. Life brings changes. Each season is different and can be enjoyed in its own way. Don’t set yourself up in comparing today with the ‘good ol’ days.’ 5) Spend time with supportive and caring people. Reach out and make new friends, or contact someone you haven’t heard from in a while.”

“Finally RJ, Save time for yourself! Recharge your batteries! Let others share in the responsibility of planning activities.

Try something new. Celebrate the holidays in a new way, also be aware that excessive drinking will only increase your feelings of depression.”

After I left the Doctor I thought about what I said and did in response to being used as a bail bondsman.

I was right and the Doctor confirmed it. Health isn’t confined to someone’s overworked heart, good health also includes one’s stressed out head. I went straight home, locked myself in the garage and had a drink.

Bail yourself out of all kinds of nonsense and have a wonderful holiday season.

Have a Happy Hanukah, or a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

(The crooked congregation gave a donation to let the soldier girl out of jail. Laquita is out on bail pending a psych evaluation)

RJ

Beaver Moon Deer Hunt Part 2

Bernie didn’t mind one way or the other, he was having fun with his knives and he was covered in deer blood. Ricky was happy but nervous, this was the first deer he ever gutted (he didn’t do it at Lucky’s because he didn’t really know how).

Bernie said, “come here Ricky, I’m gonna help you out, I’m gonna show you how to do this.” Bernie pulled out a long thin, ultra sharp blade with a hook type end on it, put it in Ricky’s hand and guided Ricky’s through gutting the doe.

Ricky turned colors as the smell of the intestines, stomach and organs wafted in the cold brisk air of a still clear night under the Beaver Moon. But enough with the descriptions when you can see the video.

RJ

When the CDC meets real life: STD's Here & Now

Wednesday, (before Thanksgiving) I was at bar in upstate New York, just outside the older part of Middletown. I was with a couple that wanted to discuss their Wedding.

After we spent an hour or so going over their plans it was getting time to go. Daisy, a young college student with raven black hair and a models body (38”, 22”, 35”) had to go and leave her beau Matt (a motorcycle mechanic at a well known cycle shop) with me at the bar.

The bar, Erie Brew Pub & Grill is a really nice place for drinkers and it has a decent cross section of people (locals, city commuters, suburbanites, urbanites and rednecks)as well as food and fine wines. Matt and I sat at the bar as a conversation struck up between patrons one of which was reading Time magazine quoting a report done by CNN. The hard old railway worker in his mid 50’s, was solid built with grayish brown hair, the man, Scotty was talking about the resurgence of syphilis.

“Well listen to this, ‘a new study by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) shows a 39 percent increase in the disease (syphilis) from 2006 to 2009, with most new cases appearing in young black men. ‘The majority of the increase is amongst men who have sex with men,” said Charlotte Kent, acting director of the CDC’s division of STD prevention.’” Scotty looked at the rail thin gent (a doctor) and said “what about that Doc, that’s great news.”

Myself, the small heavy Hispanic man, Jorge, the bearded redneck with the ponytail, N.F., Matt, and a masculine looking woman, Alex fixed our eyeballs in their direction. Doc said, “How is this good news Scotty?” “ Well Doc, Apparently there’s a lack of black and white pussy, these young niggers are fucking each other to death which means they won’t breed…hallelujah. No offense to anyone here but I have no love for faggots?”

As we all started in with a comment the Bartender, Lily, in her 40’s said “look people keep it nice, OK? That means you Scotty!” Doc picked up right away, “A syphilis outbreak with one group of people, regardless of race is bad for all of us…syphilis is spread by sex with a person with a syphilitic sore in their mouth, penis or anus.”

ALSO, said the Doc, “ The most common way to get syphilis is to have sex with someone who has an active infection, that is, has a sore or lesion. People at increased risk for syphilis, like those at high risk for other STDs, are those who have had multiple sex partners, have sexual relations with an infected partner, have been infected in the past with another STD and do not use condoms.”

Scotty growled “What are you getting at Doc?” Doc said“ Assuming that the black men in this study are just homosexuals is idiocy, just because they are having sex with each other doesn’t mean they are not having sex or can’t have sex with women of any race…we are all at risk if one is infected.” Scotty turned red with alarm, “so if I come into contact with an infected faggot, like I sit on the shitter after him, I could get syphilis?”

NO! Doc said sternly, “It must be direct sexual contact, understand Scotty?” “Well then we just thank these young black faggots for screwing up the pussy pool, soon only dikes will have a chance to hit on anything available and if they get it they might pass it on like them faggots” Alex looked at Scotty and said, “What The Fuck Does That Mean?” Scotty then had to swallow down some beer.

Alex is a tall woman, 5’11, a good six feet tall in those steel toed boots, her whole upper body was muscle, she looked like Captain America with tits. Alex had a Marine Corps style high and tight haircut.

“Are you saying only women will want to have sex with women over this syphilis outbreak and that we might pass it on because of being gay…is that what you’re saying Scotty?” The tight black Under Armor shirt, the nice fitting black jeans had Alex looking like GI Jane, but her angry face had Scotty panicked.

Scotty broke down and bought a round for us as Jorge picked up the conversation. “Look I can’t speak for Scotty but I’m gonna go home and chain my woman to the kitchen table, she looks at everybody, now I have something else to worry about.”

Alex was staring at Scotty still waiting for an answer as Matt was gazing, lost in his beer. N.F., piped up saying, “look, society has changed over the years, maybe young black guys can’t get young black girls like in the past, Oprah’s changed everything.”

HOLD ON…said Alex as if she was stopping a runaway truck. “Scotty is blaming all the gays for all the disease, and you’re blaming Oprah for making black men gay.” I said, “Oprah hasn’t helped the situation for black men but I agree she is not the direct blame, women don’t want a man without a job or status, young black males for a lot of reason’s have neither, nor do they have any good prospects at getting money or recognition short of being a gangster rapper, drug dealer or in professional sports .”

Doc took a hard look at Matt as he seemed to lose the color in his face. Doc joined back in the conversation and said, “No matter what the STD, syphilis, gonorrhea, Chlamydia, herpes, hepatitis, HPV or HIV/AIDS we can’t let social conditions keep us from getting medical attention from the outset of infection. If something is wrong in your genitals you know it, that’s when you see a doctor. We must use common sense! Doc took a sip of his Beaujolais when Alex again jumped in the conversation.

“You hate gay people because they are gay, right Scotty? Alex’s laser green eyes pressed for an answer with an icy hot stare to Scotty’s face. “I don’t hate gays, I just want them to die off”…said Scotty, then he looked surprised, as if he just realized what he said. “Let me clarify that, I could care less for gay guys no matter what color they are, and if a woman wants another woman fine, munch that carpet…” As the conversation went back and forth, Doc took Matt’s wrist in his hand and told Matt to look at him.

Matt and Doc excused themselves from the bar as the conversation broke down to what is natural and unnatural sex. (N.F. got a round going as Alex got graphic with her descriptions). Doc excused himself as he whispered something to Matt, Matt then went to the restroom. Doc had to get back to work at Orange Regional Medical Center, a hospital right down the street from the bar. The conversation ended with Scotty shaking hands with Alex who nearly broke his wrist.

Jorge said, “I’m going home to chain my woman to the bed and I’m gonna fuck her till she’s pregnant with twins." N.F. waited at the bar to take me to Tarrytown so I could get my car and go back across the other bridges. Matt said, “I need to tell you something RJ.” I said, go ahead. Matt shook as he said, “I haven’t been intimate with Daisy for over a month. Last week I had sex with this prostitute who insisted I do her in the ass.”

“Matt where is this conversation going, we just discussed your wedding plans didn’t we?” Matt held his head in his hands and started to cry. “After I did this whore in the ass I wanted to fuck her, the he was a she, it had a dick…I have this sore on my… and I have been getting worried that Daisy wants to get intimate. The Doc said to get to the hospital right away so he could examine and treat me, he thinks I have syphilis.” I said “well Matt do as the Doc said and as we part I’m not shaking your hand because you could have a rash coming in.”

I then told Matt to pray before he told Daisy anything. I figure his wedding plans are on hold. N.F. would have picked up Alex if we didn’t have to go to Westchester. I kept Matt’s problem to myself. But N.F. knew more than I did. N.F. said “Matt went out partying with Jack who ass fucked the same shemale right after he did. Jack told me everything.” “You knew and didn’t tell me, why?

N.F. said “I wanted to see if Matt would tell Daisy, if he had any real integrity he’d man up. He wants Daisy because Daisy got money, her family is loaded.”

Straight or gay, sexual indiscretion hurts everybody since everybody is fucking each other.

The only way to protect yourself from STD’s is with common sense, clean living, one partner and a truckload of condoms.

RJ



(In the post I made a reference to 'Captain America'. For anyone not an all American Male or born after 1972, the video below will give you an idea what Captain America looks like)

Beaver Moon Deer Hunt: Part 1

“Hey, are you going to show up or what?” N.F. waited for an answer and I told him I would show up if nothing went wrong around the house and Mom had someone to help her over the weekend.

Friday afternoon I found myself stuck on the Cross Bronx making my trek to the Ulster County border with Orange County. When I finally got to N.F.’s, just outside the landing zone (ET’s), I found Fred and Ricky sucking down cold brew from a freshly tapped keg in N.F.’s barn.

“So you showed up”, said Fred after swallowing down some brew. “Yeah, I figure I’ll give it a go, hope this year you figured out how to use that rifle Fred.” “Run around in the woods for me RJ and let me see if I figured it out.”

“Be nice everybody, said N.F. (now sporting a full beard to go with his flowing hair and pony tail) this year we’re going to use a game plan and follow up on some of that fire discipline and fire control stuff RJ talked about last year. This year we are going to take several deer.”

Elly cooked up a wonderful dinner of venison stew and homemade biscuits while we conspired on how to divide up the hunting grounds. While dinner was going on the labs barked fiercely as another soul appeared at the door. To everybody’s surprise it was Bernie (Bernie is a survivalist, hunter, NRA life member, gun expert and knife expert). After we all greeted each other N.F. said “Glad your going hunting with us this year, your expertise will be a great help.”

Bernie looked at N.F. and said “I’m not going with you guys, I’ll never get a deer with you clowns around me. Tell me N.F., is that pack of coyotes still moving up and down the farms and fields.” N.F., still shocked by Bernie’s response said “Yeah, but they stay mostly in the woods on the other side of the landing zone.” Bernie said, “I spoke to Old Man Gallagher and your crazy neighbor Jimbo N.F., and they gave me permission to stalk the whole south west end of the landing zone.”

“You think your gonna get deer down there Bernie? Your nuts, no one has been able to get anything around the stream or the wood line in the last five years” said N.F. as he cracked open a bottle of Old No. 7. Bernie said, “I think I can get to them, I reconnoitered the area and found that there is a herd of deer with at least two big bucks, I’m gonna take at least one.” “Fine” said N.F. “we’re hunting at Lucky’s.” Bernie stayed the night after a gear and weapons inventory and setup for the morning hunt.

I walked out of the house for a few minutes to take in some night air as the Beaver Moon lit up ranches, farms and fields. I said a prayer for safety and went back inside, staged my gear and prepared for the morning.

I thought about how much pressure has been on hunters over the years, pressure from the state, pressure from the tree huggers and the nature lovers who say ‘leave Bambi alone’. This year the DEC noted the marked increase in the deer population and the need to ‘thin out the herd.’

It was the night side of the coming day when I went downstairs to gear up, it was 0’darkthirty in the morning. Bernie was going out the door when we heard the coyotes howl in the distance. Bernie smiled and said “see you later” as he disappeared into the predawn darkness with his M1 Garand slung over his back. I got in the car with N.F., Fred and Ricky and headed toward where the waters of the kill run under the bridge.

“We’ve been hunting and never got a deer in the morning, always the afternoon. I hope that changes today” said N.F. as we pulled into Lucky’s grove, we got our gear and rifles and went to the blinds and tree stands, waiting for the deer to show up at dawn. I spotted a doe with a frail young fawn following closely. Everybody left them alone. Nothing else showed up. We headed back to the house. I decided not to go back out to Lucky’s. I got sick from medication taken with rum.

As I sat in the kitchen waiting for a wave of nausea to hit me so I could go on with my life and pass out Bernie came in, the legs of his overalls were covered with blood. “Bernie are you OK?” I stared at him in horror as he replied, “RJ, calm down, it’s not my blood.” Bernie got Elly to fix him a nice turkey and swiss sandwich when he filled me in on the details. “RJ, I tracked the coyotes before dawn, found a hiding place and waited. Sure enough a buck is in my sights.

Then I get surrounded by three coyotes as the others stalk my buck, I shot the buck and proceeded to shoot the coyotes. I didn’t get all the coyotes but I know they’ll be back for the entrails of the deer.”

“Bernie, you gutted that deer not accounting for the other coyotes or coy dogs in the area? Weren’t you a little scared?” “Fuck no RJ, ‘Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because I am the fucking evil in the valley.' After I finish this sandwich, I’m gonna skin and dress my meat.”

“What about the dead coyotes Bernie?” “They’re dead RJ, what about ‘em.? Old Man Gallagher’s field hands are taking care of the carcasses.” Bernie finished up his meal and went out to finish up his buck. About then the wave of nausea I was waiting for hit and I got my stomach back in order with a piece of aged ginger from Elly. Then I got a call from N.F., “I am Bwana, again I have proved my prowess as a great hunter, I got a six pointer…Lucky is hauling my buck back in his humvee.”

“Yes Kee Mo Sabe, you can hang up your buck next to Bernie’s.” “RJ, Bernie got a buck?” “Yeah Kee Mo Sabe. Bwana will see psycho killer when he shows up with his buck.” “OK see you in a few RJ.”

When N.F. showed up Bernie’s deer was nowhere to be found. He gutted, skinned, dressed, chopped and quartered his prize, wrapped it and put it in his truck (he tagged it too). Bernie took off into the afternoon light back to the tree line, looking for something else to kill.

N.F. didn’t quite get through gutting his buck when he noticed that his shot broke the bucks backbone. (N.F. caught the buck mounting a doe and shot him from a tree stand at about 85 yards) N.F. was worried he would mess up his buck. N.F. went walking down to the tree line to find Bernie. This didn’t take long, the sun was going down and Bernie was on his way uphill, back to the house. N.F. explained the problem to Bernie who then finished gutting the deer with cold and swift efficiency.

As Bernie did things with a knife that you only see in old westerns or exotic reality gourmet shows on the Discovery Channel, Elly took a phone call from Ricky, he shot the doe that was being mounted by N.F’s buck. He was on his way back in N.F.’s car with the Bambette tied to the roof. As Bernie finished up with N.F.’s buck, Ricky pulled up with his doe. N.F. wanted to take his deer to Desertos, a processor of hunted game, from bucks to bears, they butcher, prepare and package your kill for a fee.

Bernie didn’t mind one way or the other, he was having fun with his knives and he was covered in deer blood. Ricky was happy but nervous, this was the first deer he ever gutted (he didn’t do it at Lucky’s because he didn’t really know how). Bernie said, “come here Ricky, I’m gonna help you out, I’m gonna show you how to do this.” Bernie pulled out a long thin, ultra sharp blade with a hook type end on it, put it in Ricky’s hand and guided Ricky’s through gutting the doe.

Ricky turned colors as the smell of the intestines, stomach and organs wafted in the cold brisk air of a still clear night under the Beaver Moon.

Ricky was fighting through the gross and nasty mess of gutting a deer that had its insides accidently cut by the knife Bernie gave him to do the dirty deed, so when Bernie saw he cut the gut, he got Ricky nastier, getting deer shit on him along with the blood. Eventually they got the doe spic and span, ready for the trip to Desertos.

After Bernie got the shooters through their blood baptism, dealing with difficult or introductory gutting he got cleaned up in the barn and then joined us (Lucky, Tina, Elly, N.F., Ricky, Fred, and Bernie’s wife Page) in the kitchen for a meal of Chicken Cordon Bleu and exotic deserts prepared by Elly. There special gifts and presentations were given to the magnificent hunters on their successful quest for deer.

N.F. and Ricky joined the Order of Giimoozabi KeeMoSabe also known as “Bwana”. This award is given to those who actually bag a dear without committing any safety violations (i.e. shooting a fellow hunter in the face with birdshot).

Fred got an award although he did not get a dear. He got the Grinch’s dog (a Dr Seuss doll). I had a great time that weekend and enjoyed every minute of the drama and comedy that went with the hunt. A video of some of the highlights are posted below.

RJ

Veterans Day Response

Veterans Day was quite special for me. It took so long to blog this because my life has been a whirlwind of activity. The response to the POW/MIA memorial was electric.

The memorial reached people because it was the reality of men who are still unaccounted for that became real in the hearts and souls of those who saw the memorial, and read the American Legions Commanders Message. It reached to people in ways I could scarcely imagine.

I heard from so many during the toast about their fathers, uncles, cousins, friends and the sacrifice they made in conflict areas from Saipan, Tinian and Iwo Jima in WWII to French Indo-China, to Wai, Khe Sahn, Da Nang and Saigon during Vietnam.

I heard the romantic story of Rita’s Dad who left a love in San Francisco to marry and live in New York. I heard of how a young man got sent back to Iraq on a third tour of duty only to die before his unborn son could see his face.

We live our lives wrapped up in the never ending soap opera that has become our lives. We worry about our jobs, money, family, our future, the course of our lives and what we can do to get by, to make the right decision to effect the best changes. We speak out against what we are for and what we are against. We carry arms to defend ourselves and our loved ones, we go out and vote out all the low and immoral failures that we elected in the first place.

We live our lives, enjoy or exercise our liberties and pursue the desire of our hearts and minds with all the strength we can steal.

That is possible because somewhere in the world a 17 year old buck private is walking a watch at an armory in the middle of Nowhere USA,

it’s possible because a 20 year old soldier is up in the middle of the night typing casualty reports for her unit somewhere in Afghanistan, possible because a 32 year old Gunnery Sergeant is still at it after pushing 16 hours, making sure his company can fight at the drop of a dime.

We pursue our happiness because a young Captain has figured out how to move his company 5 hours faster, saving time and lives. We have the right to bitch and moan because a Lt. Colonel is force marching his battalion in the wind and rain for deployment to where the fight is.

We have the comfort of knowing a little girl sleeps safely tonight because a young man in a place far away is braving blazing heat or bitter cold, under fire or under boredom to defend these rights.

There are over 1,380,082 people on active duty defending and serving in the United States Armed Forces around the world. There are currently 310,779,000 people populating the United States. This means that less than .5% of the United States population is defending the rights and privileges of the rest. If you factor in 23.7 million living Veterans of the United States Armed Forces the number changes to less than 7 percent of citizens having defended the rest.

No matter what your political beliefs or your position on conflicts past or present, you are the beneficiary of the most dynamic republic with the most personal freedoms in the history of humankind. No Veteran will brag about his service in terms of having kept you free, but we are proud to have served this magnificent country and been part of its living history.

If we, who serve do take some bragging rights, it’s not in ourselves, but in you. During the toast I witnessed your love for this country and your veneration for those who have given some of their lives and especially those who gave all of their lives for the United States of America. We, who are Veterans, are always humbled and honored for the love and respect of you.

Thank You All.

DC