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Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.

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02/17/2004: "Vet"


I remember Ray. He was an old guy, meaning I'm probably older now than he was then. Kind of scrawny, thinning hair, a chipped tooth in front. He was a Vietnam vet and was attending my college, and he was going with a girl I knew slightly. He was studying English, I think, but from what I could see he was majoring in marijuana. As he told it, the kids in Nam would toss the soldiers bags of pot now and then. One day he saw one coming in and picked it up, only it wasn't reefer, it was a grenade, and he lost half his hand, and went home. As near as I could tell, he was reconciled to the loss, and considered that, all in all, he'd come through pretty well.

Replies: 1 Comment

on Tuesday, February 17th, Feith said

thanks for sharing him with me.

Feith

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