I hope nobody minds this, but I read a recent post on another board that really touched me and wanted to share it with this board.
It was written by a respected Boston poster and I took the liberty of copying and pasting it here.
My deepest thanks to all Veterans.
"Veteran's Day - A Day Late - Part 1"
I tried to write this yesterday. But nothing would appear on the screen. It was Veteran's Day and I had thought to place this memory out there, somewhere...just so that it was no longer rattling around inside me. But yesterday became one of those melancholy times...they are few and far between I'm glad to say. And this is such a delightful memory...almost a perfect moment...like being in a state of grace.
It was 1967 and I was home on leave from the Army. I had my orders for Vietnam...which was OK with me. That's why I had joined the Army. That's why I had become a soldier.
It was my last night home. I was to catch a plane in the morning and start the long journey to the other side of the world. The other side of the world...more like another world, another planet. It was sure going to be different than my 18 years spent in Cambridge.
So it was my last night and a friend had arranged for us to go to the Harvard Law mixer...the mixer...loads of sex-starved Harvard Law boys (with the small enclave of "Townies") lusting after Cliffies and Wellsley girls...throw in some of the Lesley College girls too. And with a good fake ID even some high school girls from Cambridge High and Latin or maybe St Marys or Matignon. The Harvard Law School mixer in the Hark...some third rate DJs spinning records...anything danceable...Motown and Soul, some of the new psychedelic stuff, some leftovers from the British invasion, all great stuff...anything that made you feel like moving. Back then I loved to dance...loved the unselfconsciousness of the movement...loved the heat and the sweat...loved to watch women move...watch the utter joy of letting go...setting the soul free. Yeah...I loved to dance.
For an underage "Townie" getting into the mixer was no easy task. Not yet twenty...no fake ID, and an obnoxious Boston accent...not conducive to an easy entrance. Thank some higher power for unlocked back doors...and a friend with a larcenous soul. We got in!
"Veteran's Day Part 2"
We make our way to the dance floor and we each pick our targets. Five minutes in and I'm on the dance floor dancing to Wilson Pickett, "In the Midnight Hour". Damn I love that song. A few more songs and a few more partners and I'm cooking. I'm in my element. It feels so good just to move.
I spotted my buddy during a break in the music and he mentioned that he had noticed a young woman watching me dance. I laughed at him but he appeared to be serious so he subtly pointed to where she was standing. Now I was curious. I saw a beautiful young woman, blond hair falling to her shoulders, wearing a rather modest black dress with a white lacey collar, and white stockings. And this sweet angelic face had these deep, dark eyes that were looking at me. I looked at her, I heard the music start again, I asked her to dance...The Doors..."Light MY Fire".
I spent the rest of the night dancing with her. I watched her move...a mixture of innocent sexuality and sheer wantoness. I got to hold her in my arms...her tiny waist. I felt her arms around my neck and her body pressed into me. She stayed by my side...we chatted about life's little things...about the music...and then we would dance some more. There was no mention of where I was going...I didn't want that between us. This lovely creature was giving me the joy of her company, the wonder of watching her move, the warmth of her body so inviting.
At last it was time for the last dance...a slow one. So we held each other and just enjoyed how that felt. And I knew the invitation was there...could feel it and she certainly could tell that I was receptive. It was like making love without the slighest movement...I felt like I melted into her. And then the music was over. I held her for a moment and we parted so I could look into her face. Almost forty years I can still remember that beautiful smile. I held her hand for a moment...then I turned and headed for the door. I turned at the door and smiled at her and she smiled back. And that was the last time I ever saw her.
"Veteran's Day Part 3"
Over the next few months I would often think about her. When I needed a moment to get away from the blood and the mud I would think of her and she would be there. When I needed a reason to keep my humanity I would think of her and she would be there. When I needed a reminder that I was a good person I would think of her and she would be there. And on that day when it was my turn...on my back in some nameless rice paddy...blood pouring out of me...and I can see the medic's face above me...screaming at me to keep my eyes open...all I want to do is to sleep...but I see her there with that smile...the smile lets me know I'm going to be OK. She was my guardian angel.
There has always been a part of me that felt bad that I didn't explain to her why I left her standing there. I could have told her I suppose. But there is some other part of me that says she knew...maybe our souls touched while she was in my arms. Maybe she could see the things that I had not yet experienced. Someone once told me that I have a very old soul...maybe she had one too...maybe we were lovers long ago. Maybe it was just a special moment.
So here is to my Angel...for the strength you gave me...for that moment of grace.
And to all my brothers and the angels that watch over you.
It was written by a respected Boston poster and I took the liberty of copying and pasting it here.
My deepest thanks to all Veterans.
"Veteran's Day - A Day Late - Part 1"
I tried to write this yesterday. But nothing would appear on the screen. It was Veteran's Day and I had thought to place this memory out there, somewhere...just so that it was no longer rattling around inside me. But yesterday became one of those melancholy times...they are few and far between I'm glad to say. And this is such a delightful memory...almost a perfect moment...like being in a state of grace.
It was 1967 and I was home on leave from the Army. I had my orders for Vietnam...which was OK with me. That's why I had joined the Army. That's why I had become a soldier.
It was my last night home. I was to catch a plane in the morning and start the long journey to the other side of the world. The other side of the world...more like another world, another planet. It was sure going to be different than my 18 years spent in Cambridge.
So it was my last night and a friend had arranged for us to go to the Harvard Law mixer...the mixer...loads of sex-starved Harvard Law boys (with the small enclave of "Townies") lusting after Cliffies and Wellsley girls...throw in some of the Lesley College girls too. And with a good fake ID even some high school girls from Cambridge High and Latin or maybe St Marys or Matignon. The Harvard Law School mixer in the Hark...some third rate DJs spinning records...anything danceable...Motown and Soul, some of the new psychedelic stuff, some leftovers from the British invasion, all great stuff...anything that made you feel like moving. Back then I loved to dance...loved the unselfconsciousness of the movement...loved the heat and the sweat...loved to watch women move...watch the utter joy of letting go...setting the soul free. Yeah...I loved to dance.
For an underage "Townie" getting into the mixer was no easy task. Not yet twenty...no fake ID, and an obnoxious Boston accent...not conducive to an easy entrance. Thank some higher power for unlocked back doors...and a friend with a larcenous soul. We got in!
"Veteran's Day Part 2"
We make our way to the dance floor and we each pick our targets. Five minutes in and I'm on the dance floor dancing to Wilson Pickett, "In the Midnight Hour". Damn I love that song. A few more songs and a few more partners and I'm cooking. I'm in my element. It feels so good just to move.
I spotted my buddy during a break in the music and he mentioned that he had noticed a young woman watching me dance. I laughed at him but he appeared to be serious so he subtly pointed to where she was standing. Now I was curious. I saw a beautiful young woman, blond hair falling to her shoulders, wearing a rather modest black dress with a white lacey collar, and white stockings. And this sweet angelic face had these deep, dark eyes that were looking at me. I looked at her, I heard the music start again, I asked her to dance...The Doors..."Light MY Fire".
I spent the rest of the night dancing with her. I watched her move...a mixture of innocent sexuality and sheer wantoness. I got to hold her in my arms...her tiny waist. I felt her arms around my neck and her body pressed into me. She stayed by my side...we chatted about life's little things...about the music...and then we would dance some more. There was no mention of where I was going...I didn't want that between us. This lovely creature was giving me the joy of her company, the wonder of watching her move, the warmth of her body so inviting.
At last it was time for the last dance...a slow one. So we held each other and just enjoyed how that felt. And I knew the invitation was there...could feel it and she certainly could tell that I was receptive. It was like making love without the slighest movement...I felt like I melted into her. And then the music was over. I held her for a moment and we parted so I could look into her face. Almost forty years I can still remember that beautiful smile. I held her hand for a moment...then I turned and headed for the door. I turned at the door and smiled at her and she smiled back. And that was the last time I ever saw her.
"Veteran's Day Part 3"
Over the next few months I would often think about her. When I needed a moment to get away from the blood and the mud I would think of her and she would be there. When I needed a reason to keep my humanity I would think of her and she would be there. When I needed a reminder that I was a good person I would think of her and she would be there. And on that day when it was my turn...on my back in some nameless rice paddy...blood pouring out of me...and I can see the medic's face above me...screaming at me to keep my eyes open...all I want to do is to sleep...but I see her there with that smile...the smile lets me know I'm going to be OK. She was my guardian angel.
There has always been a part of me that felt bad that I didn't explain to her why I left her standing there. I could have told her I suppose. But there is some other part of me that says she knew...maybe our souls touched while she was in my arms. Maybe she could see the things that I had not yet experienced. Someone once told me that I have a very old soul...maybe she had one too...maybe we were lovers long ago. Maybe it was just a special moment.
So here is to my Angel...for the strength you gave me...for that moment of grace.
And to all my brothers and the angels that watch over you.