TAPS
RIP
1st Lt Michael L Runyan, USA
52nd Infantry, 2nd Stryker Brigade Combat Team,
25th Infantry Division
Posted on 07/25/2010 5:00:19 PM PDT by Kathy in Alaska
By the time I visited last night, they looked better than I’ve seen them....like skin color.
Tonight I’ll find out how the day without insulin went.
Hope you had a wonderful weekend. Did the girls help you in the garden?
I knew that I should have got the one from Devine Engining ! It would have not broke.
I know, Sand :(. You’re still in my thoughts and prayers that something comes along real soon! There IS someone out there somewhere that needs you for their business! *hugs*
Skin can grow back more quickly than you think once infection is eliminated and blood sugar is normalized.
I exploded a spagetti squash in the microwave.
It’s been too hot for much work in the garden unless done very early.
Put up tomatoes and squash this weekend.
RIP
1st Lt Michael L Runyan, USA
52nd Infantry, 2nd Stryker Brigade Combat Team,
25th Infantry Division
Glad you were able to get out and cut grass, even if the mower acted up.
Road Trip: Patriots Point, South Carolina
*hugs*
First Lieutenant Vernon Joseph Baker reminded me about my Dad. My Dad drove trucks in Europe in WWII because of a mangled hand; He could not use a rifle.
I’m white.
My Dad loved Beer, just loved it. When I was 4 foot tall I knew this. Get between my Dad and his Beer; you get Darth Vader on a bad day.
My Dad used the N-word. In my memory, from 1960, it wasn’t a bad word. It meant; a Negro.
My Dad taught me that there were good N’s and bad N’s; just like everybody else.
The guys that rode the back of the garbage truck that picked up trash in our ally were N’s.
My Dad would have these guys in to his garage; at lunch time. To be out of the sun and he would give them a Beer. Beer, Gods gift to man. They were good.
hard men working; just like my Dad. He respected that, I could tell. He gave them Beer, everyday. Beer, blood, beer!
One summer, we broke up a concrete patio. Put all the chunks out in the ally. You’re not supposed to do that.
Dad’s N buddies just started loading it like it was trash. They were not supposed to do that.
As they were driving off, my Dad gave both N’s $10; in 1960?
Corruption, yes, racism, no.
My Dad will be first in line in Club Heaven to buy First Lieutenant Vernon Joseph Baker a Beer!
CONTEXT
Context?
Absolutely.
My Dad also taught me about good ones and bad ones. He was born in Mississippi, did 20 years in the Air Force, and retired in Alabama; without a prejudiced bone in his body.
He looked who you were, what you did, and not the color of your skin.
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