Butcher, baker, candlestick maker.
I joined a couple of web sites recently. One was salty dogs. And I asked the question: What have you done since retirement. I was expecting a couple of responses, maybe even one or two from people I served with, but I was flummoxed. I got a fair number of hits, and the answer to the question was: (If I can summarize and put the answer in first person plural) We have been and are doing every blinking thing under the sun, except butcher, baker, and candlestick maker.
Those responses pumped me up a bit. I suffer from curmudgeonly old poop syndrome. Symptoms are a firm belief that the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and it is hell bent for leather to get there. But then I get a glimpse into a bit of our society, and I think, “Whoa, maybe there is reason for a bit of hope.” I don’t know, I guess it was just seeing that vets are scattered from sea to shining sea and doing jobs serving every purpose under heaven. I like to think most of us vets think the country is worth fighting for. Curmudgeonly old poops are sometimes known to feel like they are the only ones who think that way. So, I was glad to have this evidence that I was wrong. But gladder I didn’t have to admit being so.
I do not want to presume to speak for anyone else, so I guess I will just say what I hope I am, as a vet, is like a flag pole, holding it up there in whichever way the wind blows, and I hope a generation will come along, and perhaps stop shouting long enough to hear good in the left wind and good in the right wind, and pluck those beauties and cast the rest into the fire.
It seems service ain’t over when the service is over. God bless the U.S. of A.