I'm in the mood to ramble, generally. "Today was a good day" to quote Ice Tea, or Ice Cube, or Ice Cream, or somebody, the one with the cool song. Many of my days are better described as the Devil's own fucking day and easily forgotten, but today was worth sharing; no reply needed.
I set out in the afternoon with two objectives, job hunting and picking up some stuff for my kid's birthday. I hit the jackpot with stuff-hunting, and the job-hunting may have not panned out but I think I made a good impression in a couple locations. The stuff-hunting worked out at this place called "Tuesday Morning;" don't know if any of you have heard of them but they have peculiar eclectic stuff at super-low prices.
This old fellow approaches on the same aisle and he has one of those military vet ball caps, right, the ones that say "WWII" or "U.S.S. Whatever" and generally when I see this I strike up a conversation because A, I'm a history buff and B, if you're going to wear a cap that says "Battle of the Bulge" or "U.S.S. Yorktown" or whatever you're probably aware a history geek is going to try to shoot the shit with you, and you're probably okay with it.
I see enough of it to see "173rd Airborne" and the guy is young enough to fit the profile so I say "Ah, Vietnam." And he says yes, and I say "The Herd" which surprises him and he says unless you were in the unit it's unusual for someone to know the nickname. I literally know nothing else about the unit except it was nicknamed "the Herd" and was in Vietnam, but I told him I'm a history buff, like to talk to vets, etc. We chat for a moment but the main thing he seemed to want to stress was what an awful experience it was coming home and getting a shit reception. There was a second of awkwardness, and I said "Well, welcome home sir" and shook his hand and he said thank you. It was a very sincere and gentle moment, or maybe it just seemed extremely so because I am (don't blame me, blame the media) a sarcastic bastard and like too many of us revel in cheap irony and cheap laughs and sometimes sincerity has to sneak up on me and slap me in the face.
Later in the day I ate a late meal at Chick-Fil-A, always a key "Good Day" experience. I don't at all agree with their position on so-called "family values" and their overt anti-gay stance, so frankly, I don't upsize my meals. Won't do it. That's me being me.
This young guy in the parking lot had his hood up and needed a jump so I helped him and got him on his way. I just wrote two long paragraphs about it but have deleted them, because basically, "this young guy...etc." But it made me feel good to help him. He was really worried.
The end.
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