Over the years, we have recorded many miles traveling I-10 east and west, but for our east coast road trip, we left I-10 before Ft. Stockton taking I-20 to Pecos on our way to the Dallas/Ft. Worth.
After checking in at the Hampton Inn, we decided to go to dinner at The All American Inn, which just happen to be located across the street from the historical Judge Roy Bean building.
As Joy and I often do we shared our dinner, this night a spicy southwestern hamburger and order of fries. However, the burger was not cut in half when served, so we asked for a knife. Our server, a young Vietnam girl (maybe 12 years old), said it was not cut because they didn’t have any knives, none in the place; but she could bring us a plastic fork. Have you ever tried to half a hamburger with a plastic fork — it’s not easy.
A Vietnamese family owns the restaurant, and on this Saturday evening, the father, daughter, and very young boys were there.
The burger had plenty of spicy souce and jalapeño. Other than being extremely hot, it was very tasty.
The youngest boy was fighting to stay awake while watching a movie.
All in all, the day was a good start to our rode trip. — kenne and joy
Like many young men in the 1960’s, I was drafted into the military. Having just received an Associate Degree, before I knew it, I was at Ft. Polk, Louisiana standing with many other dazed young men in the early morning darkness. At twenty-five, I was an old man compared to most, yet equally disoriented. The previous cold January day at the Chicago Induction Center had been the pre-draft physical day for three of us from Naperville. Now being barked at by teenage boys who had only arrived months before us (still too early in the morning for the lifers to be doing the barking), I had no idea that within a year, I would be the only one of the three of us still alive.
We all figured we would be going to Vietnam, and in time, most did. But, I was among the lucky ones receiving other orders, spending 18 months in the South China Sea on the island of Okinawa. Although I was not in Nam, the people I knew, worked with or met while on “The Rock” had the first-hand experience of the war. A STRATCOM (Strategic Army Communication) Tech Controller, by MOS, I communicated daily with my brothers of the faith in Vietnam, many of which worked in trailers out in the jungle. If you get the picture, these guys were “sitting duck” and often were on the air with us when the link was lost — it wasn’t because the channel went down. We all lived by a very special language of survival, which served as the thread to the fabric clothing our very souls. Now some forty-plus years later, it is rare that I hear someone who speaks the language. The fabric is the same, only the clothing designs have changed.
Knowing “Paco’s Story,” I had been looking forward to Larry Heinemann’s reschedule Writers In Performance Series reading. I love Heinemann’s writing, but listening to him read from Paco’s Story was simply priceless – even more so, when during the Q&A, he began sharing his feelings on Vietnam. The following video may not mean much too most, especially the several generations since the Vietnam War. But, for me, he knows how to strike the cores that generate music to my ears. Still, some will always hear the music and continue to pass it on to future generations just as it had been handed down from generations of other young men who had been lied to. Keep the faith!
