It occurs to me that, thirty-nine years ago, at about this very hour, I returned home to St. Louis from Vietnam. I always remember it because it’s Pearl Harbor Day.
One day a rocket flew right over our hooch. The next day we were down on the coast, checking out of the Nam. The day after that, I was in Ft. Lewis. That day after that, I was taking the first hot bath — or for that matter shower, or hot anything — I had taken in six months.
Thirty-nine years. Thirty-nine years. I feel so sad that life is so short, and so grateful that it is so beautiful.