I’ve been watching the weather half a world away in Mumbai (Bombay), India - the temperatures have been consistently in the mid-90’s. Reason: our first born flew there last week for business reasons. He emailed that it took him 27 ½ hours to reach his destination, and apparently the volcano ash we’ve been hearing so much about was not much of a problem. He’ll be there for a two week stretch meeting with them plus some Australian colleagues. A quick Google check names several sites that, with differing definitions of a city, show Mumbai as either first, second, or third most populous city in the world. This world economy thing blows my mind. To think how the different countries of the world interact to make their economies work is hard for this old farm boy to comprehend, but it sure looks like a heady experience for those who can function in the modern world.
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I’m always interested in hearing veterans tell war stories, but it’s hard to get them to talk about their combat experiences. A long-time acquaintance and Viet Nam veteran is no different. Stories he tells are very superficial, and he outright told me one day that he doesn’t like to talk about them. Recently, though, he volunteered to let me read a book of his that dealt with the Marine unit he fought with at the Battle of Dong Ha in 1968. The book, Magnificent Bastards, doesn’t paint any glorious pictures but depicts the down and dirty aspects of the fighting. This Marine unit got ripped up badly, and according to one source, lost 81 killed and 297 seriously wounded. Prior to my reading the book, he had said, “A lot of the guys never came back.”
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A few days ago a beautifully restored ‘49 Chevy pickup pulled into our driveway driven by an acquaintance who loves to work on cars and who stopped by to show it off. Proud he was, “There isn’t a bolt in it that isn’t chromed.” The stock six-cylinder engine purred nicely and the blue paint job reflected my face. What caught my eye though was the add-on turn signal gizmo bolted to the steering column. He, being younger than I, seemed interested when I told him that I remember when those gadgets had to be added to a vehicle if not factory equipped because of a newly enacted state law which I’ll guess occurred sometime in the early 1950’s. After awhile, he backed out and coolly cruised away, then Mary pointed to the big puddle of oil the engine leaked on our driveway.
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It would be good advice for anyone:
If at first you don’t succeed, stay away from sky-diving!
