4/5/19 0825 Morgan St. Albany, GA.


The days are turning slowly to the end of our ownership here. We put the property up for sale and had an offer in three days. We took it. Selling off everything here.

We have a home in Florida. This was a vacation home. Unfortunately there are problems. The primary is the medical services provided here in Albany by the VA. There is a Marine Corps base close by and it has medical for Vets, but it is only doctors. If you need medical for ANYTHING other than seeing a doctor you have to drive 90 miles S. to Dublin (and they are not fully equipped) or you drive 200+ to Atlanta. In Florida I have two medical units within 15 miles (the closest is under 10) and a hospital 45 miles away. There are two VA Vet readjustment centers, one in Sarasota and one in St. Pete (I go there after being tossed out of the Sarasota unit for “failure to accept services prescribed by the unit’s manager) and that translates to: he wanted me to undergo hypnosis to take me back into VN. He was NOT a licensed hypnotist. He was NOT a trained social worker. He had a degree in anthropology. I said “no.” He told me that because I was refusing his decision I had to leave the vet center. OK, I did, and I wasn’t the first to have that happen. Well, he is no longer in charge of that unit. I wrote a 3 page letter about him and sent it to the VA headquarters in DC.

Anyway, such is life.

More later!

 

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Wednesday and Two Tours in Vietnam!


Good Wednesday to you all! For me it started with being startled out of my sleep. That was because I had a rough night and needed more sleep and my wife had to wake me because I had a breakfast meeting to go to. So, I changed the time and met a buddy about an hour later than normal. He is a former Army Medic that did two tours in Vietnam.

He had wanted to be a doctor. He joined the Army and requested training in field medical. He then did two tours as an airborne medic. He saw enough blood and gore to end his desire for being a medical doctor. He is loaded with PTSD. Sad, really, I think he would have been a good physician.

Jan and I are both tired from driving to and from Georgia. Just a long trip surrounded by idiots either driving too fast or too slow.

One thing I will never understand is that near the Florida/Georgia border their is activity by both the Florida Highway Patrol but on the Georgia side they are like a bee hive that has been whacked with a stick and the idiots on the highway just go flying along. Between the border and Tifton it is a good chance to see (on both sides N and S) five to six cars pulled over. One would think that would slow things down. The answer is NO they just go flying along oblivious to the stops.

We have a radar detector but always drive within the speed limit. I just don’t understand these other people. And then, you will occasionally see not just one cop car with a stop but two and three on one car. Now why would someone want to bring dope into either state. Stupid. They are waiting for you.

Anyway, that’s it for today. Tired. Already irritated a nephew who is anti-gun, anti-Catholic, anti-Irish, and anti-Jewish. So I shall retire into the sunshine. Until tomorrow.

Hey There Mr. Scarecrow.


Hey there Mr. Scarecrow
Standing out behind the barn
Just you and that old grey mouse that lives in your hay
Thanks for listening to me the other day
As I sat and let my own rain drop from my eyes to the ground
Hey there Mr. Scarecrow
You are so brave standing in the wind and rain,
Lonely there in the snow and heat from the sun
I saw you every morning and just before I turned out the light at night
Thanks for listening to me the other day, everyday
But yesterday I came to tell you of my love for you and found you gone
You had listened to me cry so many times in the day and night
You had heard how much I want to die
I came once with a knife
And told you I didn’t think it would hurt
Just a quick cut to end my life
Hey there Mr. Scarecrow you were there in silence
As we stood in the day or night and talked
Or when I sat next to you in the snow and the rain
With the knife tucked in your pant’s pocket out of sight
It seems just yesterday that you were there,
Waiting patiently in the sun and in the dark
You and that old grey mouse living in your shirt pocket
But that was before they came when I wasn’t there
And with a match and can of gasoline they burned you down
Oh Mr. Scarecrow, you were my very best friend
I told you of the beating of my mother that I saw
I told you of how my father had in anger walked out
And that he had come back, and my parents sat and cried
But something inside of me had died when I saw the blood
I told you of the pain that will not go away
I told you of the times I wanted to die as we sat alone in the dark
When I showed you the knife and tucked it in your pant’s pocket
But I wasn’t there the day they brought gasoline and matches
And not caring of you or me they burned you to the ground
My best friend, my very best friend, and the house for an old grey mouse
They burned you to the ground
To the ground, to the ground
Where I found the knife I had hidden in your pant’s pocket
So very long ago.
But I never found our friend
The old grey mouse.

Copyright 2019 Gordon Kuhn

Georgia & Footprints in Time


We spent a week in Georgia on our property there. It is was nice but a bit sad. Raining in reality and in relationships. Funny how things can change. When someone is ill from drugs or alcohol and they get straight or die it is generally true that the family and those close by are found to be ill themselves. But they don’t recognize it. Such is the case in Georgia.

 

FOOTPRINTS IN TIME

Hours of minutes made to sand were turned
As days once were, they came haunting naked
Beasts as ghosts did arise to hungry feed
Upon the very aperture of thought twisted then to seed
Being spread out before the hosts from near and distant past
Disallowing peace to remain encamped or to last
As the fire of memory rose and clouded the sky
With a smoke meant to hang in the air and not to fly
On winds set to bring each day into focus pure
Instead in memory’s pain the days became obscure

 

Copyright 2017 Gordon Kuhn

Catatonic in Milwaukee


Stiffness of mind can be a problem and should be noted to tend along with a great deal of anger. I deal with anger. I have problems with anger. I can be very un-nice with anger when it overtakes me and lately it has been  near me too much. I think it is just that the world is moving at such a strange pace and what I hope for is not actually happening but the reverse is. Maybe that  holds true for you as well. In any case being catatonic would be a problem not only in Milwaukee but in Bradenton  as well.

I wonder if people can really change or is it just backwash that we get when we think we changed and then something happens that drags us back into all the same shit. I don’t know. I just known that when looking at my life I can see too many mistakes.

Its a new day and hopefully a day where anger doesn’t creep in to my life or yours.

Oh, and I have never been in Milwaukee but I understand they brew a very fine beer there.

 

An Improv Everywhere Video


Another day, another confusing conversation with self about life and things relative to that which we think is relative. Okay, so maybe this is a bit too much of a thought process but I have to ask why is it that when I had over 500 followers here and over 500 followers on Facebook and then consider LinkedIn and Twitter why is it that I totter along with 4 visits on a daily twit? Can anyone explain that to me? Any answers?

Battle Flag


Battle Flag

 

The battle flag sudden snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that even God had not known about back then

On a hot and sticky day where boys waited amid the baking heat

All seemed to stand still in the sudden roar of quiet to those there that day

Broken by the Sergeant’s sudden shout of “guns up!” that tore the silence apart

Rifles swung up then their muzzles pointed out and down across the clearing

Where men of difference moved so quiet in the sea of grass

Then, with hearts beating hard in all the chests of those there that hour and day

Searing rounds were sent out for the human shearing

A burst returned ripped holes in the flag that flew in the wind

Blood and mud spattered, its fabric so worn and so thin

That flew above boys that day sudden turned into men

It snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that no one, not even God knew about back then.                

6/10/13 edited 12/22/2016

Poem from Standoff: Bare


STANDOFF  is a book of poems that I will be publishing soon. This poem is one of them: BARE. I simply decided that I would post this one for the time being. I hold the copyright on this. 

BARE

Flesh laid back,

Bare!

Raw, no cover to protect

From salt thrown upon there where the whip struck

Beneath the layer thin and thick

Atop with matted hair that hides

Emotions deep run and amid course shall stall

As the owner fails to know the path laid out

Laid out, but not in common diagram of visual plane

Leaving the direction needles spinning mindless there

Nor can one tell or master the storms drifting path

Should path be there hiding beneath a lacquer veneer while

The stronger weather yet to come as emotions gather

As they gather well before the bow that dips deep

So very deep, and then sliding down the hill so steep

Deep down, deep down, falling into the trough beneath emotions towers

Towers without sight of top, nor bottom have

Crashing then they upon decks wet awash with memories tossed

As the pilot fights to stay the line invisible before them

And fails to see the coming of the loss of light

As clouds of thought weigh down the saddened soul

While deck and hold covers fail to stop the rushing waters in

The ship stalls, shudders, shatters from within, rolls, and sinks beneath a wall of tears.

10/3/2016 Copyright GORDON KUHN ass rights reserved.

Through the Eyes of the Crokus – continued # 2…..The VA……Today I Fired My Lawn Service….Predator


Through the Eyes of the Crokus – continued forward 2.

Li Sun was aged two cycles. His armour-plate scales had begun to harden but were not dry enough nor thick enough to protect him against an attack by a hungry adult.  At the age of two he was called “a desirable,” meaning he would have been good to eat.iStock_000006641740_Medium

Many youth of the Crokus Clan and those of the Yagi Clan never made it to the third cycle. There were those adults that patrolled the outer edges of the known worlds and if a youth was caught off world by another clan they stood the possibility of being killed for their protein rich organs. Once aged 3 cycles it would be almost impossible to penetrate the armoured outer skin. That barrier could only be removed at the pleasure of the wearer which was rare except at the exchange of sexes once every fifty cycles. When that occurred they were all vulnerable to attack. Were it not for the overpowering of the breeding they would have extinguished the clans in bloodshed tens of thousands of cycles in the past, but the sexual draw was greater than that of the need of protein and the pain that came with the removal of the protective skins.

Li Sun glanced around himself at the shadows standing close. He could feel their breath on his drying armour plate. They were right, he shouldn’t be out at the unregistered limits of the then know universe. It was foolish of him, and yet he knew that everyone of those there with him had done the same at his age. In a moment he would bolt shooting skyward and away from those who would most surely curse him as he did for he was not only quick but agile and able to turn and reverse direction in a space that none of those surrounding him would be capable of doing.

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FOLLOWERS

http://en.gravatar.com/annepm2015

She writes of herself that she is a writer. She lives in the metropolitan Atlanta area, and is a native of Georgia. She writes of an illness at the following address and how she handles it.  https://annermurray.wordpress.com/2015/03/25/harsh-reality/

I think her story is incredible and she is well worth getting to know.

https://annermurray.wordpress.com/2015/03/05/born-with-a-handicap/  She speaks of herself as being handicapped, not from illness or injury but because she is female. I think she is an interesting read.

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The VA…. well, apparently some guy went to the VA and told them he was suicidal and in need of help. He was told, according to him and some others, that they had no room for  him and turned him away. He returned and had a camera on his and he recorded being told to leave. The VA is in worse shape today than it was two years ago when the news bureaus all began reporting the problems. Where are they now? Where are the reporters now?The suicide rate among veterans is horrific. This is true among women and men vets. There is a special hotline available for those in trouble. Depression and PTSD are real. I occasionally will run into an idiot that will say, “They just need to suck it up and get over it.” Wow, wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was that easy.

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The Lawn Service.

We have had the same lawn service now since we moved here in 2003. They have not been taking care of the property like they should for sometime now. So, today I fired them. Now I feel badly. But should I? I don’t know.

I wonder, is it my fault for letting them slip and slide? They have lost three lawns on my street. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough in what I wanted. I’m not sure. They were supposed to be weeding…they weren’t. They were supposed to be trimming our shrubs….they weren’t. And, when they did (after I called them) they used equipment that wasn’t sharp so the bushes were mangled. Is that my fault? Is it my fault that I didn’t stand on top of them to make sure they were doing the job right? Then there is the language barrier. His men mostly speak Spanish. I mostly speak English. Should I speak more Spanish?

So, why do I feel guilty and sad?

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PREDATOR

Trying to finish. I have two other narrative nonfiction, another book of poetry, and more that I need to take care of. Predator is over 400 pages now.

 

I AM IN SHOCK!


This morning, at 0730, I received a phone call from the wife of a longtime friend. Her name is Brandy. His name was Chuck. He died last night.

Chuck was a Vietnam Vet. He had a Bronze Star, sixteen Air Medals. Each Air Medal reflects 24 hours of combat flying for those in the Army. He also  had been presented an Army Commendation with V device and a Purple Heart.

I wrote an article about him which, I believe, is to be published by the Soldier of Fortune Magazine in another month. On October 20. 1969, Chuck turned 19. Five days later he was aboard a helicopter flying into the dark of night. Its mission was to find and rescue a Special Forces Team that had been “inserted” the day before into an area in Laos.

Chuck did not know that I had learned the article is to be printed. I was holding that knowledge as a surprise for him. That night in 1969 was so incredibly important to him. Had I called yesterday and told him he would have died with the knowledge that what we had set out to do in December of 2014 was finally coming into being. It makes me sick to know that he was unaware of this fact at his death.

These past few weeks have been so strange. First came the death of Dan Anders from Pancreatic Cancer. Dan was a miracle man. He was the only living human that had survived being exposed to Anthrax. He was an Air Force Vietnam Vet.

Then came Randall Gooding who is still in a coma after emergency surgery for a perforated bowel. He and I were in Vietnam together in the same outfit in 1965. We have been friends since 1963.

Then came my own problems and visits to the ER at the Bay Pines VA Hospital because of breathing problems.

Next came my wife and the incredible pain she had encountered from last Wednesday night on and our trip to the ER  at Sarasota Memorial Hospital on Saturday in an attempt to solve that which we never did learn the cause of.

Last came the phone call this morning telling me that Chuck V, as we called him as there is another Chuck in the group but his last name starts with a B and so whenever we were speaking of one or the other we identified them with either the V or the B).

So, Brandy called and told me that Chuck had died unexpectantly. He had walked down the hall during the night and feel. She went to him and he told her he could not breathe. She attempted to help him with his portable oxygen machine. No help. He was pronounced dead at the hospital.

I and everyone close to Chuck V find ourselves in a state of shock. He will be missed in our group that meets at the St. Pete Vet Center. His chair will be empty. And there will also be an empty spot in our hearts.

I can write no more. I am staggered by the loss. I cannot even proof read this. It is what it is.