Master Sergeant

I forgot to mention one thing from yesterday's grocery day which I do not want to remain forgotten. As the guard waved Pop to enter the Air Force base, he called Pop by his old rank. He said something like "Have a good day, Master Sergeant!" It had been a long time since I thought about Pop's rank. It's not too bad a rank, and one should not forget that this is a big factor in the way we have been able to enjoy a reasonably comfortable life. He has earned his respect. He did something real in society. He wasn't merely given his stake in society.

Yokota Days

One memory from the deep past keeps coming back at me these days. From Yokota days. It's the time those two guys got me to hang out with them for the day. They were both on the high school football team with me. That pretty blonde guy, who was perhaps a little smaller than me, and that brown fellow with a hatchet face like mine, about the same size as I am - Asian rather than Mexican, or quite possible Asian and Mexican rather than Asian and Anglo. We rode out on a train to a nearby town. They got me involved in a little shoplifting and fare-jumping, with me just following their lead, being mostly concerned about being left behind. I handled myself badly on the trip back home, as I grabbed the dark guy's hair in the midst of some verbal horseplay.

I think I now understand what that day was about. They were not the top cool kids, but they were a faster bunch than me and my little gang. I think they were auditioning me to see if I might be able to hang with them and play in a higher social league. I had some status with my academics and with sports, and there were some indications that maybe I was not just a good little church boy after all - the drinking and the porn. If I had passed the audition, it likely would have meant a ticket to some real parties, and it might even have meant some sexual play (or maybe not). Instead, they saw that I was too childish and awkward and that was that.