Yeah...
I knew a guy who ferried my company across rivers (I built flotation bridges), and maybe someone here will know who he was, but his nickname was “Mellow Yellow”
He got sent home (which means he got killed) in the summer of 68 or 69, and we all knew him as Mellow Yellow.
I never knew his real name, and didn’t care really, I never talked to the guy, and sh*t like that didn’t matter to me until now, as I’m older, now when people say odd things, totally unrelated, I think “what the fuck? I’m 70? What the fuck? Where did it all go? This guy’s been dead for 50 years!” And I wonder sometimes who the f*ck else remembers “Mellow Yellow” and the trips on his LST.
No one now even knows what an LST is. Much less who Mellow Yellow was. I swear, I’m turning into my father, and I’ve had way too many beers. I’m up here alone in my cabin till Sunday, my dad’s cabin, and I’m just feeling like shit, and all that Mellow Yellow just came out, shit I just held back for 50 years.
Man, it’s a kick in the nut sack.
So f whoever is going to get on my ass.
Rock on Mellow Yellow where ever you may be.
I didn’t know you, but man, I REMEMBER you.
I have to go to bed now, but I got 3 more Old Style beers, because what panzy can’t drink a 12 pack of beer?
I hear you.