Just remembered something

This past week, I was @ the Jersey Java and Tea and was having my afternoon coffee when an old vet sitting by the window struck a conversation with me.

It happened while I was paying for my drink. I only had the exact amount to pay the barista, but not enough to give him a tip. So I ran back to my jacket pocket and scrounged up enough coinage to give him a buck...looks cheap but it's still legal tender. So the vet says "Those coins sure are a pain in the ass to carry. I don't know why the government still keeps making them." To which I replied "Perhaps they like the sound the coins make when they jingle." And from there, a conversation was struck between us about all sorts of things. Mostly I let him talk because he seemed like he had a lot to say. He had amazing stories, from the time he was kicked out of high school for kicking a couple of racist kids' butts (they started it btw, just because our hero in question was black and was at the wrong neighborhood), to the time he joined the marines and his training days in Parris Island (to which he recounted his experience as being "a peach"), to his tour assignments throughout the Far East during Vietnam and beyond. He recounted his accession into the Navy SEALs, his many promotions and his numerous travels throughout the world in his 35 years of service. He beamed with pride when he spoke of his two sons, both in the armed forces.

He tells me that while in the during his tour in Vietnam, he was exposed to agent orange and from that, how he developed cancer. He says that he's just hanging out @ the cafe before he had to go to his doctor's appointment. To this, I said nothing. I couldn't say anything. What could I say? Somehow, "sorry" just could not encompass the gravity of it all. He spoke of his condition as if it was a random, daily thing, or rather more like an inconvenience. I suppose seeing and knowing what he'd been through all these years in the service, Cancer is just an inconvenience to him, even if it meant his mortality.

He wasn't resigned, sad, or regretful, at least not from what I can tell of how he spoke about his life. He was just an old bloke, happy to be alive, trying to tell a youngblood like me about a really good and honest story...his story; as if imparting to me his most valuable treasures, wishing that I should have such an adventurous and amazing tale to tell when my time comes.

I shook his hand and thanked him for his story and his service. He wished me luck and with a nod, he left for his appointment.

So, to Chief Warrant Officer ______, my sincerest thanks.

Song of the day: "Sawdust Saloon" - The Low Anthem