The Bane of the Bald Man

I am writing this for my friend Jamie Cantrell. He reminded me of this terrible problem.

First of all, this is not a vanity piece I am writing for myself. I have been asked several times to write about the epidemic that has hit the men of the United States Military. More specifically, the Senior Non-Commissioned Officers that prowl the ranks and file. This tragic disease seams to affect a majority of the men without any thought to race, religion or ethnic origins. This silent stalker is known as Male Pattern Baldness.

 I am not a scientist that can give you a long explanation why so many of these gallant souls are affected by this tragedy. I have thought about it in depth, due to the fact that it has been a problem for me for almost 30 years now. The first school of thought: Soldiers just have way too much testosterone in their systems. This could be true. Soldiers are required to be super aggressive and ready to destroy the enemies of the nation. The NCO’s have to have even more so that they can control the younger soldiers. Usually, it is harder to control them in garrison than in a combat. Too many young men and women think it is a good idea to sneak out of a third story window to get more beer. That isn’t so bad, but there is always that one. They do it wearing combat boots and a sheet. Screaming ‘I am Bacchus, God of Wine.’

My father, a veteran, claimed it was the hats and helmets that we always had to wear. He claimed that the constant friction and lack of oxygen killed the hair follicles. I have to disagree with the Old Man. Like most young soldiers, I was always taking off my headgear or wearing a bandana to protect the skull. This of course was when there were none of my Sergeants around. Back in my day, they would have strangled me with the bandana or beat me with the helmet. Not to the death of course, that would require too much paperwork. I have learned that as I climbed the ranks.

I even had one of my fellow soldiers claim it was an experiment from the government. They had put something in the endless inoculations that the military had given us. He wasn’t sure what the experiment was about, just that it was being performed on us. I don’t put much past the government. That is one I shrugged off. He did retire early from the Army. Now, he draws one of those special checks from the VA.

It doesn’t matter about the reason. What matters is how you treat these poor souls. Remember, we have many problems you do not have. If we are off duty, hats are something that we forgo a lot. I will guarantee that every year each of one of our special group receive a sunburn like you have never experienced. There is nothing worse than a sunburnt head. It is a pain like you have never had before. Additionally, there is the problem of the peeling skin as it heals. That makes a person look like an alien from the show ‘V.’ The Snake people are taking over!

The winter holds a different problem for us. God help you if you forget your wool cap in a snow or ice storm. A sheet of ice will form on the top of the old noggin. This isn’t so bad. What really sucks is when you go inside. The cap begins to melt. Ice water will slowly run down your neck and down your back. The ‘Ice Challenge’ has nothing on this. You are freezing the rest of the day. Nothing but a steaming hot bath can solve the issue.

Finally, there are all the people that think it is good luck to rub your head. A bald head is not a Buddha Belly people. In fact it can be very bad luck for you. The wrong bald man may take it as an insult. The result could be a dislocated soldier. Be nice and ask before you touch. The life you save may be your own.

Please keep us in mind as you brush your hair this morning. You may complain about all the hair care products you have to use, or the time you have to take to look your best. We do not have that option. It is a simple was and go. The only hair care product we may have is a can of Turtle Wax.’

Welcome to the Neighborhood

I read another article today by an individual who is afraid of having returning combat veterans in their neighborhood. They have a fear that the individual will snap and wreak havoc upon their neighbors. I am sorry that we individuals who served and sacrificed so much, are a nightmare that keeps these individuals awake at night.  Instead of cowering and clutching your children to your breast when we pass, just say “Thank You.” You wouldn’t have that giant SUV and over priced home if that man our woman had not stood the line while you sat at home watching Oprah.

Instead of worrying about what could happen, think about how that soldier could be a benefit to your community. Neighborhood watch goes to a new level with vets around. You know that your children are safe playing in the neighborhood when they are on watch. Children are more important to soldiers than you might think. Even in combat zones, we give them candy and presents. Many soldiers have died trying to save the life of a child, even of our enemies. The health and welfare of a child is more important than our own. Additionally, we are ever vigilant for danger. It is ingrained in us from having to survive. Any strange people, or vehicle, will quickly send up red flags. Remember, we are able to run up mountains with an extra 80 pounds of gear on. That weirdo on the playground has no chance.

Occasionally, communities have problems with peeping toms, flashers, and other such wierdos. It is hard for the police to always catch these pervs. Have your husband’s go over and buy the monster a few cold beers. They can explain the problem and ask his help. I’ll bet they have a wife, daughters, or even a mother. I am sure they will love the excitement of the idea. We’ll never turn down an opportunity to cammo up and hide in the darkness. It gets even better because there is a chance of jumping from concealment and scaring some dirt bag to death. I’ll apologize early for any traps your husband may trip while walking the dog at night. Those flare trip wires will give you a headache. Just make sure your spouses don’t ask to help. You don’t want to have to deal with a 5 A.M. boot camp going on through your streets. They can’t go to combat without training after all.

Veterans are also great for getting rid of pests as well. No, I’m not talking about you daughter’s boyfriend. There are too many laws about that. My neighbors have used me several times when a rabid groundhog, opossum, or raccoon have made an unwanted appearance. Most combat soldiers have no quam about putting down a sick animal. It is far better than the suffering it has to go through. Don’t think we missed the shot if you hear 2 shots. It’s just the training. You have to make sure it is dead and dead again. For a cold beer or bratwurst, we’ll even dispose of the carcass for you. We know some of you suburbanites are a little squeamish about that.

If you live in the country, we can even be more help. Sometimes we may go a little overboard. Don’t ask us to put up a fence without specifications. You might end up with triple strand concertina wire, a four foot tall berm, or both with a tank ditch added in for good measure. When asking us to remove a stump, make sure you specify no explosives. Without that specification, you might have a crater that you can park your truck in.

Let’s not forget those combat medics and surgeons. They are a plus to have in the neighborhood. They can treat everything from a headache to a sucking chest wound. You may say you don’t need that much experience. I beg to differ. Remember when Mr. Jones came home with lipstick on his collar at 1 A.M. Yep the medic would have when he ran out of the house screaming with that meat thermometer sticking out of his backside. Just don’t be surprised if the have you clear out a landing zone and call in for a medevac.

Veterans are not the monsters I the closet. We do have problems and issues. So does the beauty pageant mom and the workaholic dad. Don’t shoot fireworks at our homes or yell “Incoming.” We will be fine. Treat us as your neighbors and friends. All we every want is to come home and live our lives enjoying our families and working hard. Give us a smile and wave. That goes a long way.

Time to Pump You Up

As you get older, it is a good thing for you to stay in shape. My Dr. tells me that the benefits of a healthier life include a much longer life. That is definitely an idea that as appeal to me. However, there are those that would have preferred it if I had expired years ago. I just have to say, “Na Na Boo Boo. I am still here.” Heck, there was even a time when I found out that people were planning my wake. Someone had heard that I had been killed in Bosnia. Boy, were they shocked when I came home.

I do feel that I should try in shape. I am at that age now where it is harder to do so, and stay there. It will not be much longer before I reach that half century mark. I do not want to be like so many other people I have seen that get old before their time. They let those little aches and pains rule their lives. There is so much still to enjoy out there. Why would I want end up living my few remaining years sucked into a recliner watching Jeopardy. I do not want to be that Jabba the Hut person who can’t find the remote when it gets dropped in the chair beside me.

I am not working out to become some middle-aged, He-man, Sir Hunk-a-lot. There is no desire to grace the pages of GQ for this guy. That is just too much work. I enjoy lifting, but not all the other things required to achieve that status. Who wants to do 1000 sit-ups, run way too many miles, eat nothing but boiled chicken, and drink only water? What is life without some good old-fashioned fried food, long nap, and an ice cold beer? Give me bratwurst, or give me death! Yea you guessed it I’m not a vegetarian. My daughter would actually call me a meatetarian.

My desire to work out comes from two personal desires. The first reason is for my own self absorbed ego. I have to prove I am still the man I was 20 years ago. Thank God I am not any many ways. My bald backside was luck to survive those years once. The second time might be enough to give my guardian angels strokes. I want to be that 70 year old man still out having fun with life. There is this insane dream to sky dive on to the White House lawn for my 75^th birthday; wearing just a smile and a pair of American flag boxers. You cannot be weak and decrepit to do that. The Secret Service can’t be allowed to catch me that easy. What would the fun be in that?

The main reason is my three little girls. I want to bulk up and become extremely scary for when my little girls start dating. A fifty-something old man with a snow white beard does not have that intimidation factor. The dates will picture their child with a sweet Santa at Christmas. No father wants their daughters’ suitors to be relaxed and happy around them. We want them to tremble and shake fearing for their lives. A Santa with 42 inch pythons can put a little quiver in that happy thought. Cracking walnuts with those monsters will definitely make them fear a jolly old man.

There are only a few short years left until those first dates. It is time for me to get to work. I have a lot of push-ups to do. It will be a while before I bench press that Volkswagen.

The 4th, Once More

The 4^th of July is here again. Unfortunately, my job informed me that I have to work my normal shift. There will be no barbeque and fireworks for me with my family. My wife will have to take the girls to watch the show by herself again. This upset me at first. I thought, “Who deserve to enjoy the 4^th off, if not me. Come on I spent some many of them watching fireworks that were a lot more dangerous and that were aimed at me.” Then I realized, I was being a selfish whinny kid.

This holiday isn’t about beer guzzling, burning a good burger to cinders, or watching Uncle Bob blow his fingers off with an M-80. We easily forget what it is really about living our fast paced lives filled with constant entertainment and instant gratification.  As Americans, we feel that it is our right to have this time off to over indulge and be ignorant.

Maybe we should all have to sit through a history class the morning before the festivities start. Make all the radio and television stations run the same program all day. I would vote for one of my old college professors teaching a class on how this country came to be and the true reasons why we separated from the British Empire. Ask most people, I am sure that they cannot tell you the real reason. I’ll bet that they cannot name a single event that lead up to us declaring independence. Okay a few will mention the Boston Tea Party.

After the history lesson, I believe that each of our elected officials should take turns reading off all the names of every man or woman that gave their lives in service since the day we declared our independence. Once they have finished, let’s have all the leaders of each, “racially pure” group read off the names of everyone that is registered as immigrating to this country. We will only use the official records. IT will be interesting to give them lists with their ancestors highlighted.

I’m certain that will take care of all the entertainment for the day. I wish I could say it would make people think and be more reverent for the holidays we have. I would be kidding myself. Over 90% of Americans do not truly care. It is another day off and an excuse to cook out and have several cold ones with friends and family. Before you chug that 5^th beer, look at one of those little flags you have decorating that cake you bought for the festivities. What do those colors stand for?

I didn’t think most of you would know. It isn’t considered politically right to be that patriotic any more. Thank whatever deity you believe in that there are, and were, men and women that do know it. They built this country and still defend it. So shove another braut in your mouth. There are others  that “have this” for you.

We All need a Hero

I have read and heard so many people lately state that “They deserve it.” This is not from people accepting the results of some action that they took; resulting in a negative reaction. God forbid that people actually get what they deserve in life. These are the people that believe they deserve everything good in life weather they worked for it, or stepped on others to get what they want. Too bad karma doesn’t always work. There are too many that would be regulated to some dark corner of a cesspool in life. They would need a step ladder to simply climb up out of the gutter enough to even glimpse daylight.

We all know those individuals. They are born into families where an older relative amassed wealth that the rest of the family is feeding off of. They spend all their time and money partying and enjoying life. They would not spend a dollar to help a homeless family, or feed a starving child. That would cut into their cash needed to impress others in their circle. It would be a travesty if they couldn’t afford that third vacation home in whatever location is trendy this year.

Let’s not forget the people that were born poor, but who fought their way to the top of the human pyramid of success. The hated the places they came from. Their hatred was so great that they used the backs of others to reach the pinnacle of their success. Most of them have disdain for the people that helped them, and for the people the y left in the past. All they care about is reaching that next goal.

Maybe, it is time that we quit celebrating their successes. Let’s be serious. Do we really need another reality television show about spoiled little rich kids. Why read about the exploits of some ubber-rich individual that just bought a small island of the coast of Timbuktu to escape the stress of having to deal with their fans. These are not heroes that our children should emulate. Let them find people that deserve more, but who do not cry for more.

Let our youth see the beauty in that kindly old lady down the street. No one ever recognizes her, but she has been making sandwiches for the homeless for the last 20 years. She uses the money from her Social Security check and donations of others to feed others that she feels are more needy than she is. Her joy is seeing people smile when they have a meal feeling their bellies.

Support the doctors that give their time and money to help children in both the United States and in smaller countries. They buy medicines and perform surgeries for those in need. You do not hear them brag about the good they have done. They simply take their time off do what they feel needs to be done. Unfortunately, it does inconvenience people such as Ms. Fatpurse. She has to wait and extra few weeks to have her latest enhancements done. It is terrible that she may have to survive as a C for a few more weeks.

Don’t forget about all those veterans that returned home. There are many of them that are “damaged.” However, they do not complain. They try and continue to be a part of society, although in slightly different ways. Whenever you are down, think about the young soldier that lost both his legs in an explosion. He didn’t give up on life, instead he did rehab and received new legs. Now, he is running marathons with the help of artificial limbs. Tell me you are having a bad day because they got your order wrong in the drive-thru.

“Stop the Insanity!” It is time that we gave our children real heroes again. Why don’t you be their hero? I’m sure your child can picture you with a cape and tights. Okay, maybe not tights for everyone.

Coca-Catastrophie

I cannot believe that a company such as Coca Cola could even think of allowing people to sing an American song in a variety of different languages. What were the people in charge thinking? I am thoroughly shocked. How could a company that had a motto, “I would like to give the world a coke and teach them to sing in perfect harmony,” think something like that would be acceptable. Do they think we are a multiracial nation where many of our children are born from parents of diverse backgrounds?

You would think that this country was founded by people that spoke French, English, Spanish, German, Gaelic, and other languages. There wasn’t an indigenous people here that had no clue what English was when our ancestors arrived to carve out a new future for the wayward children of Europe. Were they thinking that the infrastructure of this country was created by poor immigrants from Europe and Asia? Who were all those people that came through Ellis Island? Come on Coke executives who taught you history in school? Wasn’t that subject called American History?

I think you should have talked to the Veterans of this country before you aired something like that. How many of us have ever served with someone who spoke multiple languages? Really haw many 1^st or 2^nd generation Americans do you think have served or died for this country? Do you think we have ever seen the pride in a man’s eyes when he was awarded his American Citizenship while serving this country? Soldiers have never brought husbands and wives home from these far off lands. We have shed our blood sweat and tears for the people and ideas that make this, “the land of the free and home of the brave.”

If you haven’t caught the sarcasm yet, and you think I support you for protesting Coca Cola, you are denser than I thought. Wake up simple minded America. Most of you would not have been here if some ancestor had not been considered a criminal, or religious heretic. This country was not founded by the simple ideas of Anglo-Saxon men. It was the hard work of men and women who came from the far corners of the world. They were the down trodden that sought better lives for themselves and their families. They fought and died in the wars and hardship that shaped this nation. Look at your history books.

The next time you bite into a hamburger, think where it came from. Remember these words:

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

This is the America that I know and have fought for. If you do not know, that is inscribed on The Statue of Liberty. Oh yea, a Frenchman made it!

Slipping Into the Future

Most my life I have heard people compare ‘Time’ to a river. It is ever flowing and moving forward. The current slides by as the seconds of our lives tick away. I’m not certain if these people were trying to comfort me, or make me feel insignificant. I wondered why they never the moments of life to the wind, rain, or snow? Maybe it was because they hated the idea of me assailing them from above? That could be humorous in itself. Millions of little bits of me raining from above. One last time I could rain on their parades.

Truthfully, I can see what they meant as I get older. It is easy to see our lives as a river flowing on. You cannot look at all of our lives flowing through one river of time. We are not a discarded beer bottle bobbing down the stream to eventually be sunk or smashed against the rocks. That would be ridicules to think. That would place us all on the same path. Besides, who would drink all of the beer to toss our empties in?

I see each of us as our river. Each of us start out as a small stream, or spring. As we grow from a baby to a child, our stream deepens and widens from the knowledge and experiences we gain. Others will spill their water into our streams as they affect our lives and growth. The soothing rain, drought, and raging storms of childhood will shape us, feed us, ad turn us into the river we will become. Some will roar and rage filled with rapids. Other rivers will flow gently and slowly; never seeming to churn or cause turmoil. Most are a mixture of both. There are times when our lives are filled with rapids and jagged rocks. Then, there are times when we are gentle and smooth enough for a rotund man to float gently down.

 Not all rivers run the same courses. Some run a fairly straight course trying to race on. These sweep by at a hurried pace, racing to the final destination. They pick bits of small debris carrying them here and dropping them there. Occasionally they overflow their banks depositing little mounds of waste and enriched soil; giving life and pain to those that live on the shores.

Some rivers meander about, trying to find a good path to travel. They bend and twist. Many they even loop back upon themselves. They seem to loose themselves trying to find that one right path. The land around them always seems marsh and damp. Despite the desperation of these bodies, they feed and nourish an abundance of life. The wandering waters are not lost, just taking a longer path to the end.

A third type is the one that rushes violent forward. It sweeps mightily onward flinging debris from its path. Its’ rushing waters reform the rocks and the river banks. It creates its own path when it is needed. This force of nature cannot be tamed easily. The river roars laughter as it travels quickly on. The river throws spray into the faces of those that dare to creep too close. The spray says “Ha! I run free. You cannot touch me.”

All rivers try to run their course according to their natures. Each trying to join some greater body in the end. None travel the same course their full length. There is a little of each type in everyone. Sometimes, we are a force of nature to be reckoned with. Some days we are gentle and slowly traveling along. Other times, we meander and seem lost on our course. There are even those that are so lost they become cut off from themselves. These people become a dark murky pool filled with slime and tadpoles. Life is a journey. There is beauty in the traveling of it. If we are lucky, a part of us will evaporate and turn to rain. I still want to rain down on a few people when they are trying to barbeque.