RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,249
('it wasn't brain surgery' - Jack, pt. 2)
Jack was as good as they
come for regular guys -
steady, proficient, wise;
in that worldly way that
uses a constant suspicion
and evasion so their own
foibles don't have them
falling for the simpler
come-ons of others. He
and I were worlds apart
otherwise, yet the work
of co-existing was never
mention nor toiled over.
-
He kept returning to his
Vietnam service in ways
I'd never have understood.
As I said, the subject was
never broached, even with
Joe - the third guy - along.
He'd been deferred easily and
without complication for
poor eyesight. One of the
benefits of that old phrase,
'Coke Bottle glasses.' You
don't ever hear that anymore
but at one time it was the
phrase used in belittling
those who walked around
with very thick eyeglasses
on, and heavy black frames.
Back then, of course, the
more glass in the 'glasses,
the heavier the heavier the
frames needed to be. And
they looked it. Today's plastics
and blends have changed all
that; in fact glasses have now
become fashion items as well.
Funny how that goes.
-
In the end, like I said, old
dead-eye Joe took his own
life (years later). Things have
a way of getting buried and
gobbled up by other events
which overlap them, and the
mind then loses the power of
focus to say 'this caused that.'
It's a sort of wry consolation,
otherwise we'd all walk around
being amateur psychologists
finding root-causes for every
action and habit. I remember
when the Selective Service
System finally threw me out
of their system with a 4F as
a crazy-man, they sent a note
to my mother stating that I
would be getting notified of
arrangements for counseling
and psychiatric treatment. She
never turned anything over to
me, and I was never notified
directly, so I always figured
any 'root-cause' of my mental
maladies were beyond even
their organizational thoughts
of treatment and normalcy.
Jack, on the other hand, seemed
to thrive on the group dynamic,
the sense of cause and mission
with others. I've known any
number of such people over
time - Vietnam guys, combat
vets, etc. - and they've all
carried the same trait; which
is one I never possessed. To
paraphrase Jesus, 'Where
three or more are gathered
in my name, get me the Hell
out of there...' The end result
is carnage and destruction and
loss of lives in a 'cause' only
rooted in the simplicity of
base ignorance. To prove my
point, study Vietnam, 1954 to
1974. See who came out on top.
-
I don't think Jack, or Joe, ever
realized the granite solidity of
self-hood. (Well, probably Joe
did - bearing, as he always did,
the characteristics of loner and
outcast. His main problem, and
the root of his eventual despair,
was, for some reason, the fairer
sex. And the 'problem' there was
that he wasn't attracted to that
fairer sex as equal individuals,
rather as sexual objects and
opportunities. That always
left a lot lacking, and caused
strange and violent episodes of
control and exploitation mixed
with abuse. It all ended badly.
On the other hand, I found out
much later, Jack was on the
receiving end of letters from
stateside girls, in the guise of
pen-pal 'boost the boys' spirits'
letter-writing campaigns. I never
knew about that, but he'd made
a few friendships from that.
As I looked back after the fact,
I used to kick myself for being
so stupid and self-absorbed as
to never having sent Jack a
word during all his service time.
Maybe a correspondence would
have been cool. Maybe I could
have learned from it too. Or,
maybe, me being on a sort of
Selective Service 'Wanted' list,
it would have just caused him
trouble.
-
Time sure gets jumbled. Events
take on lives of their own. We
go on living...or we don't. Jack,
my friend, it certainly was never
brain surgery.
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