Love is Gods' greatest gift of nourishment; and once located, all the other details are free to take care of themselves. It is also important to remember this: Love only that which may accept and respond in kind to your efforts. Love without reciprication is emotional suicide.
We finally understand the question and the answer is obvious. Why are we here? We are. We have love, we have freedom, and the world is ours for the taking. We are content with ourselves today, content enough to explore the limitless possibilities around us, to explore each other, our love, and our life together. We are why we are here. I suspect we're just supposed to take care of each other the best we can, and that's all.
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"I don't think you've got what it fucking takes Mr. New York, Mr. goddamn push-ups! You're about two seconds from being bounced outta here for a checkup from the neck up, do you understand me, boy?!?"
"Yessir! I do, sir!"
"We all know what they'll do when they get their hands on you, boy! You'll be gazing into Rorschach pictures for years, shithead, not that you would understand what the hell I'm talking about, would you, Mr. Push-ups?"
"Yessir!", I said, but was thinking more about how my new friend here would look on the inside of a chalk outline dress.
"Are you gonna lift that sorry ass chicken breast, undersized hairless chest off the ground? Or do I have to stomp you into the dirt, boy?"
It was always best to relay your answer quickly, I learned early on, whether it was right or wrong. Attempting to correct youself was a huge mistake, as the ability to think on your own is seen as interference at best, and mutiny at worst.
"Gimme twenty more, then! And everyone else can join you, New York smart ass! I'm gonna make you a lot of new friends, New York, that's both a promise and a threat. You and I hitting it off so well will help you with the rest of the boys, New York. I can see that already."
The groan from the rest of the company was loud and long, a sustained and disgruntled hiss of disapproval. The barracks had already taken on the look of a sweat shop, the windows were frosted over, and a fog had developed and then risen into the center of the huge room. Our company commander, Chief Pierre, was pacing the table that split the room in two. A short, half French, half African-American, he seemed to especially dislike those of us from the east coast, (or the Least coast, as he liked to put it) for reasons unknown. I knew he disliked me from day one, and no guesswork was used in arriving at this conclusion.
Whatever was upsetting the Chief could hardly affect me in the long term, of course, but in the here and now reality of Boot Camp, he controlled everything. He used this power to make our lives absolutely miserable, and I was beginning to take it personally. Through insufficient nutrition, deprivation of sleep and massive doses of exercise, we would be molded (or brainwashed)into "military" men. Yet I had no real commitment to him, or his precious fucking navy. I had planned to serve my country for four years, learn a trade, hopefully, and move on. There was no threat to us, here, or from abroad. I would honor this commitment, because I'd made it, and that was that. I signed the papers and been sworn in back east. I knew it wasn't going to be for me, but whatever led me down this well travelled (or not?) path was the work of the Lord, so my faith forced me to go on with it. I would, however, do it kicking and screaming, of course. Because there has got to be a better way to build up young men and women without tearing them down first.
There are supposed to be bright spots during Boot Camp, one is that after the halfway point, it's much easier. Getting half way is of course the hard part. The best part, though, is the friends you make, and the anticipation of impending freedom. For me, there was an even more important carrot dangling after graduation. While most guys had family coming, and then had plans to drink 'til drunk and look for hookers in town after, I had a date with a beautiful woman. I met her on the plane, and she seemed to like me, maybe because I hadn't been myself, who knows. Anyway, I had been a wee bit preoccupied about my impending torture and incarceration, you see.
"Can I help you with something, sir?"
I had my eye on Mary right away, and she seemed quite receptive to my goofy glare, too. Once I shared the news of my destination, she became even friendlier still. She said that I was about to make a huge mistake, but could appreciate the fact that I'd be attempting to honor my commitment anyway. Since this would be my most precious last few hours of freedom, and I had to spend them on an airplane, she decided to feed me a few extra of those sample size servings of liquor the airlines offer. I was hoping her gameplan contained a seduction play, but it would have to be run right there on the plane, as I would be picked up by my jailers upon my arrival. The navy left no time for second thoughts, and it was a real smart move. All I probably needed for change of heart was the meagerest of crumbs, and here we had a cherry cheesecake falling into my lap. Of course, I would have ended up going in, but a little late, and a lot less focused on the work at hand.
"Here's two more Johnny Walker Blacks, Sean. I've got to get the drinks out now, but I'll be back in a minute, O.K.?", Mary said quickly, directing me past the bathrooms to what must have been the stewardesses' seats, and holding my hand for an extra second of fanastic eternity.
"I'm getting pretty good at thish drunken shailor shtuff.", I slurred, unsure what to say. Now that I was beginning to feel the effects of my little friends, Jack Daniels and Johhny Walker Black, things were getting a bit dim, a slight bit foggy if you know what I mean. I should have eaten, but my stomach has been in knots for the past few days.
"Don't you worry," Mary said between giggles, "I'm gonna take good care of you. Just sit tight."
Sit tight I did. The nervous energy was beginning to metamorphisize into alcohol induced over-confidence. Next thing I knew, I was being woken up. I had decided to close my eyes, just for a minute of course, and now I had no idea how long I'd slept. I figured I'd lost any chance I had to join the "mile-high" club, although Mary hardly seemed the type for a quickie in the air. One can always hope for the best, at least. You never know.
"Wake up, Sean, wake up, c'mon. Listen, that girl is sweet on you, Sean. She just checked to see if you woke up yet. You have a thing for her, too, don't you? Are you going to do something about it, or are you going to sleep through it?", I heard, trying to regain my composure. And figure out who had become so interested in my love life all of a sudden. I had almost forgotten about the girl who I sat next to back at my regular seat, Julie. She was flying in to see her fiancee graduate the same kind (Navy) of Boot Camp I was about to enter. She got up to go to the bathroom, and maybe to see where I'd gone, I don't know for sure.
"All stewards back to the kitchen, please.", a deep voice announced.
"Thanks, Julie. Did I sleep for long?"
"Just about ten minutes."
I tried to change the subject, offering nervously, "How did he sound the last time you talked to him, anyway?"
She had told me that her future husband, John, hated it in the beginning, but mostly because it was not what he expected. He'd always wanted to join, and it was just a matter of becoming old enough. That also seemed to be the case with their impending marriage, they were too young in New York to be married, or anywhere, I guess, both being seventeen. His father, and his fathers' father, had been in the Marines, but John had opted for the Navy instead. I was the first on either side of my family to serve, mostly because I was born to immigrants. I suppose he thought it would have been easy, and in comparison to Marine Boot Camp, it probably was. But that didn't make it easy. Just easier. The way a heart attack is easier than a stroke, I suppose.
"Well, he's glad to be getting out and getting into the real service, I'm sure of that much. He didn't call or write very often."
The disappointment was all over her pretty round face. This face, and her eyes, especially, were exquisite in shape and color. Her eyes shined brightly where most are dull and empty; but they belied her intimidated, hunched body language. For most, she must have appeared meek and mild. To me, her eyes seemed caught or trapped, yet wild. She also seemed to be "swallowing a lot of aggression..." ("along with a lot of pizzas..."), to quote the late John Candy, describing himself in the movie "Stripes". Julie is not now, and probably never was, anywhere near as large as Mr. Candy. I just always loved that line. She was by no means a very big girl, she just carried a little baby fat awkwardly, that's all.
"His parents flew me in, he writes to them, they're right over there. It's just as well they couldn't get three seats together. Talking to you might get me ready to talk to John. I can't wait to see him."
She was trying to keep her chin up, but you could tell she was quite unhappy. I wanted to tell her to get out, now(!), but it was really none of my business. I cannot pretend to understand her emotions or options, and the possibilities seem endless. I was intrigued, though, that's for sure.
"I just wish he would have written a little more, ya know?"
As intrigued as I was by Julie intellectually and instinctively, Mary was even more beautiful, and more importantly, unattached and possibly interested sexually. I was somewhat sobered by my catnap, and we still had about two hours to go.
"Someone's trying to get your attention, Sean."
And there was Mary, I don't know how I missed her, towards the front of the plane, with her hand waving in the controlled and recycled air. Not very shy, and that could be a very good character trait for me, I thought as I got up to go see her.
"See you back at the seat, Julie."
"Yeah, maybe not for a little while, eh, Sean?", Julie replied.
with a knowing, and quite surprisingly supportive, wink. Apparently, I was a bit more transparent than even I discredited others for. Julie seemed to be half rooting for me, too. If she couldn't be happy, maybe she was wishing for a little bit of happiness to find it's way to me. As I walked towards Mary I realized just how cool Julie really seemed.
When I reached her, Mary grabbed my hand and pulled me quickly around a corner which appeared to be a linen closet. Then proceeded to lay a big kiss on me, as she pulled me so hard into her I thought she wanted me to stand behind her. I was beginning to get the feeling that I was about to become the proudest new member of the "mile-high club".
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"If you guys can't get a handle on marching in step together, you're gonna have real problems in my navy, boys. Company... Halt! All right, girls, get your asses ten across, lay your rifle at your right side. What the hell are you waiting for? Do it and do it now! Go! Go! Go! Give the guy in front of you a little room. We've got some work to do here. Squat thrust, four count. Now I want to hear you assholes, let's go!"
"Yessir!", we yelled, and began the squatting and thrusting.
"Your mommas aren't gonna recognize you gals when I send you back to the world as men, shit-heads."
For the next hour we kissed the fiery asphalt, known as "the grinder", and reached for the beautiful clear and bright blue California sky, known as heaven, which I would have been flying towards, if my prayers for wings had been answered. But they were, of course, not answered. My consolation prize turned out to be the shit sandwiches they served at the chow hall, chased down by the unidentifiable clear and super sweet, sugar coated sugar water they also served with every meal. The milk, which no one in this fine service branch had anything to do with creating, was the highlight of every meal. I had actually joined with a rather large appetite, by I was quickly cured of that. I ate every scrap served, of course, but food would never be the same. Even the way we ate the meals was pure insanity, although it was quite militarily intelligent, of course. We were lined up outside the cafeteria, single file, (No Whispering, Dammit!), and we entered in orderly fashion. Once all seats are filled, next in line goes to the first table filled, and stands behind someone and waits. There is a ten minute limit, and that's for everyone to eat and get out and line back up. Impossible task? In the beginning, for a few days, sure. But after a week, we would have made the Three Stooges proud.
"Did I just fucken say no whispering, asshole? Are you fucken deaf or just stupid?"
"No sir! Neither, sir!"
"Do you have a fucken death wish, then? Why do you always find a way, just tell me why, please?"
"I wasn't..."
"Just shut the hell up, alright? Shut up! Step out of line. Right over here. All right, Down. You just got a raise, New York. Thirty. Every time you fuck up, thirty push-ups. DOWN! Matter of fact, that's what I'll call you now. Whenever you here me say DOWN, I'll be speaking directly, spe-fucken-cifically and e-fucken-scpecially to you. Got that?!? DOWN!"
There is no proper response for love as deep and true as this, so I left all the pleasantries to linger in the air a while longer without my interference. I instead decide to re-aqauint myself with my other new friend, the 120 degree asphalt covered Earth, who refused to open up and swallow me, despite my solemn, silent prayer to her.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
"May I have your attention please? This is your captain speaking. We are approaching some unusually thick cloud formations, and have no choice but to try and climb above and through. We may experience a little turbulence for the next half hour. I will be asking all passengers to now return to their seats and the belt light will be on. Thank you for your cooperation."
"You'd better get back to your seat, I guess.", Mary said, in a most obviously frustrated tone.
"Yeah, I guess. I'll be back as soon as I can.", I said, trying not to show my disappointment too much.
"Watch for me, I'll tell you when it's about time."
With that, she was gone. Now I stood all revved up, with nowhere to go but back to my seat, to sit fucking tight again. This time I was in no mood for sitting, tight or otherwise, unless my lap was holding Mary up, of course.
-
No one else seemed to have any other concern but that for the words of our captain. A small sense of panic was beginning to set in, and it occurred to me that nothing had happened yet. What are the odds of me being cheated of this fine opportunity to be chided, brainwashed and tortured in Boot Camp, anyway? I have absolutely no fear of our captains warning, I'm sure he is being a little extra careful, that's all.
Walking through the aisle, one could almost smell the heightened sense of awareness. I welcomed it, because, to me, people were paying attention now, somehow awakened to a keener state of consciousness. A wide eyed wonder, even. Children and the elderly know this place, providing a wider opening to others senses and needs, and a joy in the here and now. Our guard was down, and people were looking to "bond"; and tonight, it wasn't just the alcohol. It was beginning to take on the sound and look of group therapy or something, little groups splitting apart from the larger, some loud and boisterous, some quiet and confidential. So I guess it was also beginning to look like a well organized drinking binge or therapy session.
"Can you feel that, or hear it? I don't even know how to ask the question... Do you get a sense for how things just seemed to change dramatically in here?", I asked Julie, excited and confused all of a sudden, my mind off the missed opportunity.
"I actually got a little bit of a bad feeling, just before, after you went up front, but I wasn't quite sure about it.", Julie said, but seemed to watch her words float in the air for a moment, unsure still about it.
"We all seem to be part of the same thing now, I know that.", I said, still unable to put my thoughts into words the way I wanted to.
"I don't see any reason be flip about it, I know that."
I was kind of shocked to hear Julie speak up for herself this way, or maybe her words stung me temporarily, but I still don't know her at all, really. So much for the heightened sense of awareness. I did notice, however, that she seemed quite unnecessarily spooked by the warning, in addition to a pinch of heretofore unseen general anger.
"I should have never gotten on this damned plane.", Julie said to no one in particular.
"I know you don't want to hear it right now, but you shouldn't worry about things you can't control.", my mouth was messing up all my best thoughts, but I continued, "You're on the plane already, and the odds of a crash are in our favor. I mean, the odds are against a crash, really against a crash."
"Sean, listen, I know you're trying to help, but..."
"Julie, you listen, let's take your mind off the problems at hand. Do you have pictures or anything from home you want to show me?", I was really reaching now, but I had a few minutes to kill, so what could it hurt to hear about Julie's life for a little while?
"If I do look at pictures from home, I may just root for the crash landing.", Julie said, and immediately laughed at herself. I wasn't sure if I should join her, but it didn't seem too funny to me.
"I'm only kidding.", Julie added as she reached into her pocketbook for the pictures. And seemed to be feeling a little better already.
As she reached around endlessly in the oversized knapsack/pocketbook everything including the kitchen sink holder, I noticed she had a brand new box of condoms in there. That's what I had overlooked! Everything happens for a reason, and this may have been the reason Mary and I were so rudely interrupted by our captain. I still believe in gravity, although I don't know how it works or why. I just believe, you know. The way I believe that everything happens for a reason. It was one of my fathers' favorite sayings, and I've seen it in action, and I believe. Blind faith, I suppose. But now I had a chance to correct things, if I could get Julie to part with a couple, maybe I could get things to really work out.
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"Sean, Sean, wake up!", my friend from Florida, Jeff, demanded in his slurred southern accent.
"I'm up, I'm up, get off my ass."
"Eyes jest fixin t' go to da heied, so be geetin yer ash up n out, bouy...", he slurred some more, so I could hardly understand him. He's not what you'd call a morning person, but I don't know many who are people at all around 4 am. But now we were two weeks in, and everything was coming a little easier now. Of course, no one wanted to be seen near me when the chief was around, and you could tell by the tension in the air that he'd been in here already. Probably screamed and yelled at me a little already, but that may have been the dreaming again. I'd begun dreaming about this fucking place now, so there was truly no escape, even in slumber. maybe the brainwashing was finally getting to me. God, I hope not.
"DOWN!", I heard, and knew instinctively the voice of our chief.
He gets me every morning, I won't know where he is, and he'll bellow out my given (by him) name. As I did my required 40 push-ups, he laid into me some for the first time this fine day. When he was through I joined the others in the "head", or bathroom, to shit, shower, and shave. And since he'd assured me my exercise for this hour, the chief must have left the building, and left one of his charges to get us to breakfast. He had become so familiar to us, such a part of our newly "battle" hardened psyche that we could easily sense the absence of his intimidating presence whenever the stench was removed from us.
"So what we gonna do that first night out, Sean? You gotta tell me again, man, I don't think I'll make it if ya don't.", Jeff said in his usual quick drawl, but of course, this is the way I understood it. What he really said is anyones guess, since I still don't understand southern too well, yet. It's just that all things are clearer in hindsight and I should have payed better attention to the things Jeff had been saying all along.
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