Al Gore Loses Mind During Public Address

This essay was previously published 01/15/2004, elsewhere on the internet.

(AP) New York 1-15-2004


Today while Al Gore was delivering an address to a crowd in New York a chilled gust of wind blew the text of his address off the podium.

Witnesses say that for a brief moment Mr. Gore appeared to have a glazed look in his eyes, which was described by several onlookers as that of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

Mr. Gore recovered from the loss of his notes moments later by drawing on his own unprepared thoughts to finish his address. Departing from his original address due to the loss of his notes, Mr. Gore began stammering and stuttering words and phrases such as, “Disenfranchised”, “dimpled chads”, “I am President”, “Don't bogart that joint”, and “Tipper, loan me a few anti-depressants."

As photographers busily clicked away with their cameras to capture the moment. A dramatic photo was taken, capturing the last remaining circuit in Al Gore's overtaxed brain exploding into an aneurism.



Witnesses say that a small mushroom cloud erupted from the top of Al Gore's head. Scientists say that enough fluff and inert matter from inside Al Gore's cranium was thrown up into the atmosphere to block out the sun resulting in a nuclear winter and global cooling.


Mr. Gore was rushed to a local hospital where his is recuperating and is described as being in excellent condition.

Doctors performed emergency surgery and painstakingly restuffed Al Gore's deflated cranium with the contents of two ashtrays, a decorative pillow taken from an easy chair in the doctors lounge and the contents of three soiled pampers taken from the infants nursery.

When asked about Mr. Gore's prospects of a recovery, Dr. Rapenstein stated, “Mr. Gore should be up and around in several hours spreading half-truths, bad science about global warming, and his normal banal rhetoric just as he has always done in the past.”

Mrs. Gore could not be reached for comment due to her being bombed out of her skull on marijuana, anti-depressants and the now banned nutritional supplement, Ephedra.

NOTE: This is a parody article. It's not real. Get over it. Gore lost!

Copyright 01/15/2004-07/22/2005 by Randy Williams. Use granted to all who identify author

Hey Mister, can you spare a dime?

This essay previously published 07/07/2003, by me elsewhere on the internet.

I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it. In my youth I travelled much, and I observed in different countries, that the more public provisions were made for the poor, the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer. And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer.
- Ben Franklin 1766

We hear a lot about the poor and disenfranchised in America today. It appears that the democrat party has a particular burden for America’s poor. In fact, the democrats have had a soft spot for America’s poor beginning with FDR’s administration over sixty years ago with the inception of Social security, the first socialistic entitlement program to be foisted upon the American people and the American poor. For decades the poor have reaped the rewards of their economic status through a multitude of government entitlement programs. I like to call them handout programs. Using entitlement programs the democrats in government have created generational dependence on handout programs and a whole underclass willing to vote more democrats into office in order to preserve the handouts and benefits. With all these promised handouts and entitlements from democrats in exchange for votes, why call America’s poor, poor at all?

When one compares America’s poor with the poor of other nations, it becomes apparent that America’s poor has the highest standard of living of any of this planet’s poor. Being poor in America does not always mean being impoverished. In my line of work I get many opportunities to enter into some of the poorest homes of the poorest neighborhoods in Oakland. There is one thing these homes and their occupants all have in common. They are wealthier than any of the poor belonging to any other nation on Earth.

America’s poor people have many amenities that the poor of other countries do without. Most of our poor have running hot and cold water, heat and electricity, refrigerators, stoves, ovens, washer and sometimes clothes dryer. Most have flushing toilets, color TVs, stereo CD and DVD players, VCRs, food in the fridge, furniture and blankets and a roof over their heads. Many have cars, a school for the kids to go to and medical care at the local clinic or general hospital. Compare that with a family in Afghanistan, India, or even central or south America where crowded shantytowns surround the cities. Shantytowns with homes made of cardboard, black paper, scraps of lumber, and corrugated tin. The only form of light may be the glow of a candle or of a single incandescent light bulb, while meals are cooked on a flat stone over a small indoor fire pit. Open sewers flow through the streets, medical care is rare, disease runs rampant and the lifespan of one of these poor people can be expected to be half that of an American poor person. Let’s not forget that infant mortality is much higher than that of their American counterparts. The poor of other nations have few if any services to call upon for assistance.

Meanwhile back in America, our poor have many outreach and entitlement programs to pick from. There’s welfare, food stamps, government cheese handouts, WIC for babies and young mothers, section eight housing, federal housing assistance, utilities assistance from the phone, gas, electric and water companies. Free garbage pickup, grants and city sponsored loans for automobile purchases and social security benefits even if you are 70 years old and just moved to America from another country. The available benefits and handouts are staggering. The only people we see living in shanty towns (Squatters Camps) or in boxes are the homeless, who more often than not choose to live that way or they are mentally ill or drug addicted and they choose to refuse assistance of any kind.

America is the bread basket of the world. America is seen by the rest of the world as being the land of plenty, especially the poor. So much so, that many would gladly leave their country at great risk to life and limb to seek a life in America. Always, America is the preferred destination by many of the worlds poor and refugees. American’s are a generous people who give more to charities than any other people on earth, and the rest of the world knows that. The outside world sees Americans as being gluttonous, wealthy, lazy, and they see America as being a land of opportunity rather than how poor Americans see their country as, as a land of hopelessness.

We cannot as a nation afford to continue to support those who refuse to contribute to society. Nor, can we continue to pay the way of refugees and the world’s poor. To do so will bankrupt this country,

The poor in America have been conditioned and brainwashed into believing that a certain standard of life is owed them, and that that life can be had with little or no work other than filling out a government form or two, all courtesy of the left in this country. No longer is a handout an embarrassment or damaging to one’s pride. It’s expected and the more one receives from the government, the higher one’s status in his neighborhood. Used to be that a man would do menial labor to feed his family, rather than taking a handout to feed them. Today, that handout is expected.

I place blame on this country’s leftists and democrats who have socially engineered a poor underclass in this country, who’s sole purpose is to cast a vote for a democrat at the expense of any kind of decent future out of poverty.

It gives me pause to wonder if the damage caused by the leftists and democrats to this country can ever be reversed and undone. I believe it can be reversed, but first we need to convince our country’s poor that work is good for the soul and that work and productivity gives a man pride, honor, and a way out of the hopelessness of being poor. Soon, a productive taxpaying citizen will begin to love his country for what it has given him –opportunity. The democrats and leftists will loose that productive citizen from their voter rolls, which scares the hell out of most democrats and leftists –the prospect of a self-sufficient and productive American who has escaped the bonds of poverty and who has escaped the bondage caused by democrat abuse and control.

Copyright 07/07/2003 by Randy Williams. Use granted to all who identify author

Vulgarity In America - A Response

This essay previously published 02/02/2004, by me elsewhere on the internet.

Many of you know that I am to be a new father at the end of May. My wife is blissfully pregnant with twin boys. I already am getting concerned about the excessive vulgarity in society. Not for my sake because I have a wicked and somewhat trashy sense of humor. But for the sake of my two boys, I already find myself getting disgusted and outraged at the attitudes of other people.

There are several cases where I have seen vulgarity recently, or a nonchalant attitude towards things that are not appropriate for children. Last weekend, I had the privilege to spend my Saturday at Kaiser Permanente while my mother was having a broken leg set and a cast put on due to a fall she took at work. As I entered into the particular department where she was being patched up, I had to wait for her to be released from treatment. I’m sitting there trying to read, and I am treated to the noise of Tim Robbins threatening Robin Williams with a handgun, while Robbins shoots his wife. The dialogue went something like this: “GET THE F*CK ON THE FLOOR! DON”T F*CKING MOVE! SHUT THE F*UCK UP!!” You get the idea. I look around, and there are parents and kids sitting there in the waiting room watching the movie on the TV. We’re talking toddlers and a whole assortment of kids from infants to teens!

Nobody appeared to be even remotely bothered by the display on the TV. So, I go up to the receptionist and I say, “Thank God I didn’t bring any kids in. You really think that movie is appropriate for kids? Maybe you should change the channel.” She glares at me like I’m some sort of an idiot! Don’t these parent care about exposing their kids to this crap? Doesn’t the hospital have some sort of policy against this?

In another instance in September of ‘03 I was on a one of the many beautiful beaches in Maui. My wife and I traveled there with another couple to Maui to take in some great snorkeling. So we’re sitting there on the beach soaking some rays in when a gaggle of women walk onto the beach and sets up camp. They plop themselves down, dead center of the beach, right in front of the access path coming down from the rocks.

Nothing odd so far, I think to myself. I tilt my head back, and close my eyes and our friend, Jim says; “Man! Look at that!” I look up and see three of the six ladies remove their tops and they run down to the water and wade out.

Meanwhile I look around and there are about two-dozen couples of the male-female variety, sitting on towels minding their own business. When the topless women get out of the ocean, they lie down on their towels while their lady counterparts proceed to rub sun block all over the prone women’s bodies and breasts in a slow rhythmic sort of way. You know, in a way that people ought to do behind closed doors? Then the couples, all three of them start making out and grinding on each other. They’re a bunch of lesbians putting on a show for the heteros or the breeders in a disgusting attempt to show all of us that they are normal in their behavior. This is a public BEACH! There are kids running around seeing this! People are getting up scooping up their kids and hurriedly leaving. I’m no prude, but enough is enough. We ended up leaving too. Needless to say, the gaggle of lesbians was able to claim one of the most spectacular snorkeling beaches as their own. Why must we be forced to watch a bunch of lesbians, in heat, doing the bump n’ grind on the beach?!? What is wrong with people?!? The hetero couples didn’t find it necessary to act this way. If they did, the beach patrons or the local authorities wouldn’t tolerate it. What makes the gaggle of lesbians any different?

This brings us to the Super Bowl. Anyone see Janet Jackson’s, and Justin Timberlake’s performance? Anyone see Kid Rock and the other rappers before hand? They were all grabbing their own crotches and then Timberlake yanked out Janet’s silicone enhanced, fake boob with a tassel on it at the end of the number. What gives? There were KIDS WATCHNG THIS! Janet and CBS claimed this was an accident, that it was all unintentional. Then WHY was JANET WEARING A TASSEL?!?

What is wrong with society? No one cares about the impressionable young minds out there? It seems that everything is over sexualized on TV anymore. It’s as if the people engaging in this vulgar kind of behavior are saying, “We’re in it to create controversy, get into the news, to make a buck, get noticed, get in your face, and screw you and your morality if it bothers you.” The people engaging in vulgar activity do not care about anyone else. They care only for themselves and their perceived freedom of self-expression in spite of others moral and decent behavior. I’ve got news for you. If you or your kids own one Janet Jackson, Justin Timberlake, Madonna, Christina Aguilera, or Britney Spears CD, you are complicit in condoning, financing and encouraging vulgar behavior. Madonna, Christina Aguilera & Britney Spears get honorable mention here as the idols of millions of teens and pre-teens who saw them French kiss at an awards show recently.


My thoughts are that decent folks don’t want to get involved or to raise their voices for inappropriate behavior because decent folks are afraid. Decent folks are afraid to be called names such as intolerant, bigot, homophobe, square, old fashioned, behind the times, or any other descriptive term in the book. The vulgar people have shut down decency by coercing people into silence and non-action. If the decent people are to salvage society with some semblance of dignity and decorum, we need to band together and not be coerced into submission anymore. We are correct in our morality and demand for decorum in the public square. The others are not. They are forcing their vulgar ways into our living rooms and into daily lives and they are trying to desensitize and condition our kids into accepting vulgarity as a normal thing.

So, what can we do as parents and future parents? What can we do as decent citizens? We are not powerless. You’ll note that the advertisers who plied their wares during the Super Bowl paid millions of dollars to CBS and the NFL to gain exposure for their products during the most watched televised event of the year. It is the hope of the advertisers to earn that advertising investment back by increasing sales of their product. Call the advertisers and complain about the monkeyshines and inappropriate behavior during the half time show. Tell them that you have been repulsed by their endorsement of such vulgar behavior in their sponsoring such garbage. Contact the NFL and tell them you do not intend on watching football next year or that you will not be buying any tickets until the NFL cracks down on vulgar behavior during games.

If you’re in a waiting room at a hospital or any other place and you see vulgar or inappropriate displays on the TV or in their reading material, complain to the management and threaten changing facilities. If you’re on the beach, and a couple goes into heat and they begin bumping and grinding, call the police and lodge a complaint. Call the local chamber of commerce and city hall and tell them that you plan not to visit again unless they get some laws on the books to prohibit such behavior and that they plan on enforcing existing laws. Figure out how you can hit people and advertisers who tolerate vulgar behavior where it hurts them the most, in their pocketbooks. As a tourist and as a consumer, you have all the power in the world over these people. Like a single arrow, anyone of us can be broken. Like a bunch of arrows, we are strong, and our dollars speak loudly. If we all complain and protest in our full numbers, we can do something about it.

It’s time we start speaking out and that we restore decency back into the public square.


Copyright 02/02/2004 by Randy Williams
Use granted to all who identify author

An Open Letter To Sean Penn

This essay previously published 10/10/2004, by me elsewhere on the internet.

Note: Recently the Drudge Report featured a letter from actor Sean Penn to Team America creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Randy Williams has composed an open letter to Mr. Penn regarding Penn's letter. The original text from Penn's letter, as reported on Drudge, appears following the conclusion of this article.

_______

To Sean Penn, Most Americans enjoy your body of work and that of other actors. We view your films as a form of escapism and we appreciate your mastery of your art form.Your forays, into the world of politics does no justice for your star appeal. When you and other actors voice your opinions, and allow your private personas to become public, you remove the mystique surrounding yourselves.

Unlike the stars of yesteryear, who cultivated their public personas, who stayed away from controversy, who were bigger than life on the American film screen, most of today's generation of actors expose their personal tragedies, their addictions, their warts and moles, and their political views, which removes the bigger than life mystique the fine actors of yesteryear enjoyed. We do not want to know about your politics. We don't want to hear your opinions. We don't want to hear of your personal tragedies, we do not want to hear you say anything, unless it was written in a film script. We don't care about what you have to say. We merely desire to escape from reality and the daily grind and pressures for a couple of hours, without thoughts of your world view and opinions creeping into our heads while we try to disconnect from the outside world for a short time. Therefore, Mr. Penn, I most assuredly make this promise and commitment to you, the Alec Baldwins, the Susan Sarandons, the Jeanine Garofalos, the Johnny Depps, the Barbara Streisands, the Jane Fondas and all the other politically outspoken celebrities who are insulated from the real world in their secure mansions and compounds. The same people who are insulated and who have lost touch from reality through their star power and wealth. Because you have been outspoken. Because you have removed the mystique of your stardom. Because you have fouled your star image and our perceptions of you. Because you have removed the element of escapism from your films, because your beliefs and words are brought to mind while we view your films, I will do anything in my power to avoid viewing your films, or putting money in your pocket.

Mr. Penn, I want my escapism. If you want to air your political opinions, then give up acting and run for office. Do like Ben "Cooter" Jones, Fred "Gopher" Grandy, Fred Thompson, Clint Eastwood, Sonny Bono, Arnold Schwarzenegger, And Ronald Reagan did. They found success in politics and had the personal convictions to abandon acting while they pursued political office. To sum it up Mr. Penn - No, you shut the f**k up.

Randy Williams , East Bay Area, Ca.

(Below is Penn's letter)

October 6, 2004To Trey Parker and Matt Stone, I remember a cordial hello when you guys were beginning to be famous guys around Hollywood at some party. I remember several times getting a few giggles out of your humor. I remember not being bothered as you traded on my name among others to appear witty, above it all, and likeable to your crowd. I never mind being of service, in satire and silliness. I do mind when anybody who doesn't have a child, doesn't have a child at war, or isn't or won't be in harm's way themselves, is encouraging that there's "no shame in not voting" "if you don't know what you're talking about" (Mr. Stone) without mentioning the shame of not knowing what your talking about, and encouraging people to know. You guys are talented young guys but alas, primarily young guys. It's all well to joke about me or whomever you choose. Not so well, to encourage irresponsibility that will ultimately lead to the disembowelment, mutilation, exploitation, and death of innocent people throughout the world. The vote matters to them. No one's ignorance, indcluding a couple of hip cross-dressers, is an excuse. All best, and a sincere f**k you, Sean Penn P.S. Take this as a personal invitation from me to you (you can ask Dennis Miller along for the ride as well) to escort you on a trip, which I took last Christmas. We'll fly to Amman, Jordan and I'll ride with you in a (?) 12 hours through the Sunni Triangle into Fallujah and Baghdad and I'll show you around. When we return, make all the fun you want.

Copyright 02/02/2004 by Randy Williams

Use granted to all who identify author

The Decline of Civility In America

This essay previously published 10/31/2004, by me elsewhere on the internet.

One of my pet peeves and one that I have written about before is civility or the lack thereof in American society today. We live in a nation of narcissists who are rude, arrogant, and self centered and who care only for themselves.

When I was a boy growing up in the 60s and 70s, we were raised on a healthy regimen of manners. Being polite was a way of life. It was expected of us. We were taught to hold doors open for people. We were taught to use table manners when we dined with other people or in public. We addressed older people as Ma’am, or Sir. If we knew their proper name it was Mr. or Mrs., in conjunction with their proper name. We knew to ask “May I” when needing to use the bathroom, or wanting to leave the dinner table. We were to be seen and not heard while in public. Most other folks acted the same way, which made being out in public fun and enjoyable.

Over 30 years later, I am addressed by my first name in almost always every case. Rarely am I addressed as ‘Sir, or Mister Williams.’ What gives people the right to address me with such familiarity? Nowadays I even find myself addressed as ‘Dude’. Sometimes it’s ‘Uh, Hey you.’ Or, ‘What was your name again?”. Why do we as a nation act so rudely towards one another?

Today I went out to run some errands. In the hour I was out and about, I was cut off by other cars twice while in transit to the store. Later, as I was backing out of the parking spot I was using in front of Starbucks, another car came flying through the parking lot and leaned on his horn in order to stop me from backing up, so that he could get by unimpeded. I was half way out of the parking spot before he even arrived on the scene, and he blows his horn at me! The nerve of some people!

In California, the law states that at a 4-way stop sign, the car that arrives and stops first has the right of way through the stop sign, unless four cars arrive at each stop sign simultaneously. Then, the car on your right has the right of way. The running joke in our neck of the woods is he who has the most expensive car has the right of way. It’s amazing how someone will screech to a stop on a dime, just so they can be the first to proceed through the stop sign. They do this even as another person is already proceeding through the intersection, cutting that person off. People are too much in a rush, and they simply no longer extend any courtesy to anyone, anymore.

I am a season ticket holder to all the Oakland Raider games. I no longer attend the games. I sell the tickets every year now. Why? Because, I am tired of the thug mentality at public sporting events. It used to be that everyone got along at the games. It was an afternoon of fun. Now, I can’t help but to have someone vomit within 10 feet of me. I am usually within 20 feet of a fist fight. And, what really T’s me off to no end is that when I get up to use the restroom, or to get a drink, some drunken fool who cannot afford the seats that I can afford, will inevitably take over my seat while I am gone so he can pass out. If I call security, I create an incident, with the offender calling me a racist, or worse. It’s sickening.

My wife believes that shopping is a spectator sport that I should embrace and be enthusiastic about. I used to enjoy going shopping. Not anymore. It doesn’t matter how far I park my truck from any mall entrance. I can always count on coming back to find a ding in my truck from some other slob’s car door. Or, I can find a metal shopping cart resting against the side of my truck. Once in a while, someone will key my truck, just because it’s well maintained and nice.

Once in the mall, or any store for that matter, I am forced to endure the hordes of mall rats, acting like bullies and punks. I had no idea that a 13 year old young lady can belch as loud as the one I saw last time I went shopping. These are people’s kids and they act like uncouth animals. It’s disgusting to know these are our future leaders and captains of industry.

I find the clerks in the shops less than enthusiastic and helpful when performing their jobs. Last time I went to Cold Stone Creamery, the teenager behind the counter appeared to be just discovering his sexuality. He was very overt in his swishing and flaming in an effort to show all the patrons that he was gay and proud of it. Please, just give me my Ice Cream; I don’t care about your gayness. GIVE ME MY ICE CREAM! Am I guilty of a hate crime because I just want my Ice Cream –That I don’t want to see a gay kid flaunting his sexuality so overtly? Give me a break!

My wife is always complaining that I never want to go out and do anything. My reasons are simple. I don’t enjoy being out in the world. I remember when everyone was mannerly and pleasant. I see how lousy people have become. I want to stay home and avoid the crowds on the weekends. My home is my Shangri La! I simply do not like to go out to mix with the masses. I am afraid it will only get worse. It scares me to see what society has become.

Whose fault is it? It's mine and the rest of us who see the problem with incivility in society today. You see, we put up with it. We allow it. We fail to teach our kids through good example. In order to correct the problem, we need to correct our kids, teach them right, and above all correct those who would be rude and ill-mannered and not allow them to be disrespectful to us.

Just do it in a respectful way.

Copyright 10/31/2004 by Randy Williams
Use granted to all who identify author

Playing Soldier & The Real Thing

This essay previously published 5/02/2005, by me elsewhere on the internet.

When we were kids, my brother and I were crazy about playing army. We didn’t play cowboys and Indians. That was for sissies. We played army. We thought of ourselves as hardcore soldiers. Our favorite TV shows were Combat and Hogan’s Heroes. My brother and I had the helmets, the toy rifles the canteens, we used branches and twigs for camouflage and mom would get upset if we used her green eye shadow and black mascara to paint our faces. Any rock or dirt clod was well suited and served as a hand grenade. If we ran out of grenades we would simply pick up a “Potato Masher” grenade that had been thrown at us by a Jerry. By pulling on a handful of long grass, we were able to pull up the roots of the grass with a dirt clod on the end. This served as the “Potato Masher” grenade that we threw back at the Jerry machine gun nest we were to overrun. The hills behind our home became our battlefield. One day we would walk out the back door and we were on Guadalcanal. The next day we were at Normandy. We saw many days of battle.

Because I was the youngest of all our friends and of all the boys in the family, (Girls weren't allowed on the battlefield) I wasn’t always happy with my role in some of our games. My older brother, my cousin, and their friends were always Americans. Sometimes I had to be a Jap or a Jerry. Sometimes I was a POW. One day I protested and I demanded that I wanted to be an American soldier. They said OK. So, I played an American POW. They were the Jerrys that day. I never got a weapon. It was wrong!
Those days are remembered fondly by all of us.

Unbeknownst to us, there was much turmoil and unrest on the social scene during those days. Mom and my step dad were able to shelter us from the nightly news. Little did we know that another war was raging in a place we had never heard of called Viet Nam. People called ‘Hippies’ were protesting the war and they were so angry with our soldiers, that they were downright ugly and disrespectful of our soldiers. The Zodiac killer was in the news and had the San Francisco Bay Area paralyzed with fear. The Black Panthers were in the news too. There was much unrest that we as kids were not even aware of. The only thing we knew is that American soldiers, our heroes, in the form of Astronauts had walked on the moon, and were planning other missions in the Apollo space program.

We didn’t know of Viet Nam. As far as my brother and I were concerned, all soldiers were to be looked up to, they were heroes and our nation had been victorious in WWII. The Japanese and Germans were still the enemy, and when we played war with our friends, none of us wanted to be a stinking Jap or lowdown Jerry when we played army. This is the way it was. We got to be kids, unburdened with the ugliness of the outside world.

In 1971 I was but a naive six your old kid. My older brother was eight. As we did every summer, we hopped a flight aboard the now defunct PSA airlines from Oakland to Phoenix. My brother and I were going to see my dad. Our folks had divorced a few years earlier and my dad got us for two weeks over the summer.

As we were about to get onto our plane, my brother and I walked across the tarmac escorted by a stewardess. We always thought the stewardesses were pretty. The stewardess assisted us as we climbed the stairs to the plane and she showed us to our seats. She made sure that we were buckled us in. My brother got the window, and I was in the middle seat. We could look out the window and see our mom waiting for the plane to take off as she waved at us. We waved back.

I remember sitting on the plane as we waited to leave the gate to take off. That was always exciting. My brother and I looked up, and we saw a soldier making his way down the isle. He must have been a general or something, because he had a chest full of colorful ribbons. At least that is what we thought. He was an old guy too. Probably even older than 20! He was tall, and he was black, just like Reggie Jackson of the Oakland A’s was black. We hadn’t seen too many black people in our time. But now we had a black guy who was a soldier coming down the isle. Then, he sat down next to us! Way cool! A real army guy and black like Reggie Jackson to boot! All we knew was that if this guy was black, a soldier, and had a chest full of ribbons, he had to be a hero and a general! We were dumbfounded. We became shy, and we couldn’t look at him. This guy had to have killed hundred of Japs and Jerrys. We didn’t know how to react.

After a while, the plane took off and soon the pretty stewardess came around with drinks. I remember I took a Coke. My brother did too. I also remember that my brother had a knack at cracking me up at just the right moment when I was taking a drink, so that Coke would squirt out my nose. As it would so happen, my brother pulled his stunt and as usual, I cracked up and the Coke came out of my nose. A large, strong, dark hand appeared in front of me with a napkin. I remember I sheepishly took the napkin from the man and I thanked the man, and then wiped the Coke from my face and shirt. I remember I got up the courage and I looked up at the man and asked, “Are you a real army man?”

“Yes, I am.” He said with a hint of a smile.

My brother asked, “Are all those ribbons and medals on your chest from killin’ Japs n’ Jerrys?”

“No”, he said. “I got these from doing other things in the army. I never killed a Jap or a Jerry.” He went on, “Don’t you boys know it’s rude to ask a soldier if he’s killed someone in battle? Killing enemy soldiers is hurtful to some American soldiers. Those enemy soldiers have wives and little boys just like you.”

“We didn’t mean to do any thing wrong.” My brother replied.

The soldier replied, “Of course not, son. I’m just pointing out some good manners for you to use later, when you see another soldier. Thank him for being brave, for being a hero, and for protecting you. That’s his job and he’s glad to do it. But, don’t ask him about the ugly things of war, like killing. That’s private and some soldiers feel sad that they had to do it even when it was necessary. OK?” The soldier smiled at us.

My brother and I made chit-chat with the soldier for the rest of the flight. As we landed in Phoenix and taxied to the gate, the soldier took off two ribbons from his chest and he pinned one on my brother and one on me. As the stewardess took us off the plane before the rest of the passengers, we said goodbye to our soldier friend. We puffed our chests out with pride. We had an honest for goodness medal, from an honest to goodness, real soldier pinned on our chests!

Our encounter with an American military man made a profound impact in my life. I learned a valuable lesson from him. I learned to always be grateful for the service to our country these fine men and women provide to our nation. I learned what not to ask a soldier, so that I would never hurt his feelings. I learned war causes pain to our soldiers, for some of the tasks that they must undertake while fighting wars, I learned that war is ugly. As ugly as war is, I now know that it is a necessary evil.

That day on the plane took place 35 years ago. It has stuck with me for a very long time. Every so often I think of that soldier and wonder how his life has been. I wonder if he remembers two kids on a plane to Phoenix and if he’d be happy to know that he made a positive impact in our lives. He taught us to appreciate soldiers and to understand the human side of a soldier, if just a little bit.

To him, and to all other soldiers who have served in war and in peace, I share another lesson taught to me by that soldier on the plane,

To always stop and thank a soldier for their service to our country.

Please pray for our soldiers.

Copyright 05/02/2005 by Randy Williams Use granted to all who identify author