POLITICAL HISTORY = HISTORY

When you consider historical facts, when you read history, you’re reading political history.

With any luck, what you read is put together by someone who has read and understands the role of politics.

What is that role?

Creating a just and vibrant society for the greatest number of people.

But that’s just my opinion.

You don’t need to hold the Magna Carta in your hands to understand political history.

But it never hurts.

You don’t need military service to make yourself relatable.

 

 

But it never hurts. Even better if you were a medic, a healer, not a killer.

I know what you’re thinking: ‘The guy was a medic? What’s wrong with this picture?’

For a good answer, ask anyone who had a medic around in their time of need.

We come in handy.

Maybe I was too soft for anything else in the Army?

This is a picture before I joined up.

 

 

I haven’t asked everybody, but being a greco-roman wrestling champion is not soft.

Shall I continue?

My bona fides are in order to speak on political history: kick ass competitor, national service, higher education in history but not too high, decades of work in a non-profit historical agency.

Yep, I’d say, ‘pay attention’ if some blogger, some baby boomer blogger, felt compelled to roll out their reasons for commenting about political events on an independent, self-hosted, blog.

 

Modern Problems

High school coaches taught a class called modern problems where students discussed current affairs.

In 1973 those affairs included the Vietnam War, Nixon, and what’s next.

What’s next? Go to college and stay there as long as possible had been one way to avoid the draft.

Have you ever heard a high end student talk about their academic career?

I met a PhD in entomology, a bug man, who’d gotten draft deferments through his bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate.

And still got drafted and sent to Vietnam.

What bugged him the most were the masters level guys holding the same rank he did.

 

The draft was over by ’73, so no worries about an invitation to stop by the enlistment center.

I went uninvited and signed up.  I wasn’t the only one. (Hey Gary W)

A guy in boot camp was a college grad already and he got heckled for thinking he was better than everyone else.

He might have been?

I was the people’s choice for being better than the rest when I was appointed the Platoon Guide.

The Drill Sergeants wanted a leader and decided I was it.

It was a learning experience where I learned that people get attached to other people.

The troops loved their leader so much that they started asking my advice on everything.

I was nineteen and full of answers. Good times.

 

Then I Grew Up

I grew up, got married, had kids, the works.

My Dad got older, got divorced, and moved to the country.

He had projects when I visited that I attacked with full force so he wouldn’t have to.

Was it a case of giving back, or me competing with others to show I was better than them?

I’m not sure, probably both.

How did it turn out? The old man liked seeing his boy getting after it.

 

Now, I’m older than him, which doesn’t make me better, but sheds light on what it means to grow old.

I’m not divorced, haven’t moved to the country to live near step-kids with spun-out lives.

Instead, I’m the service guy dedicated to family harmony.

I kept harmony with wife and kids and in-laws all in the same house.

They needed someone, someone like me. How could I tell?

Call me a Boy Scout, a naive guy doing the best he can.

Really, go ahead and call me a Boy Scout, I was one. Trustworthy, helpful, friendly, and all the rest.

Was I prepared. Am I prepared? Boy Scouts live with ‘Be Prepared.’

I wasn’t naive then, nor am I currently naive. I consider that an excuse for poor behavior.

‘Ah, it’s okay. He’s just naive.’

I’m not writing political history, not writing about politics.

You can tell because I don’t use current buzzwords, stir the shit-pot, or tell people to ‘f#ck off.’

I don’t post little pinchy-faced pictures I practice making in the mirror, declare my anger and disillusionment at anyone in particular.

Do I join others in screaming in some stranger’s face because they wear a uniform? Noooo.

Taunt armed people with the confidence they won’t shoot me in the face? Nooooo.

So what’s the big deal?

For me, the big deal is encouraging people to honor their marriage, honor the role of elder, and know that with gray hair, white hair, comes an unintended responsibility: We’re supposed to know better than sucking-up to defective people, ideas, and places.

Do what’s right for your family, your community, and avoid the sway of blind allegiance to the moronic notion of ‘that guy’s rich, he must be right.’

 

 

PS: Try and be better, be the best you can be. Go ahead, you can do it.

 

PSS: By committing to be the best you can be is signing up for challenges the rest of your life.

The overriding question: You’re better than that, aren’t you? Yes? Then show it, don’t tell it.

In the meantime?