The following and all of the other episodes to come are snapshots of what goes on in my head, now and in the past. There are times none of this will make sense. There will be times when I might get lucky and the blog I post will be well constructed and will flow like a mountain stream to an awaiting lake below. Other times it will seem like the ramblings of a madman and you’ll ask yourself, “What the……?”
You should probably get used to the latter.
EPISODE ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN: My Point In Time…
I am a huge fan of the mini-series Band of Brothers. I watch the whole series once or twice a year. And every time I watch it, I always see something I didn’t see before.
In case you have never watched it (shame on you) and don’t know that it’s about, I’ll give you a very short description. It’s about the formation of the 101st Airborne during World War II. It’s about the men of the 506th and the group known as Easy Company. And it’s a true story. It goes from their basic training to jumping into Normandy all the way to when they enter Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest to Austria. They were there when the war ended.
One thing I love about it is the comradery of the guys and how they become, well, brothers. They fight next to each other and some die next to each other.
I watch it and wonder if I would have fit in with these heroes of men. Would I have been able to pull my weight and become friends with these guys? Would I had been looked up to and rose in the ranks and become a decorated soldier? Would I have got a cool nickname given to me by my buddies?
Would I have survived the war with stories to tell?
I’m not sure I could have got through boot camp and jump school. Not because I’m afraid of heights or I can’t take orders from leaders I respect. I think I would have sucked at it because I have a real hard problem taking orders from people I can’t respect.
But who knows? Maybe I could in that situation.
I think about how the 1940’s were. There used to be a restaurant in Nashville called The 101st Airborne. It used to be by the airport and it was a World War II-themed place. There was memorabilia on the walls and they played 1940’s big band and swing music. I LOVED it. Unfortunately, it’s gone now. I’m sad that I only went there once.
And remembering that place, I think about what we all must think about from time to time. Was I born in the wrong time?
I could see myself being born in the middle to late 1920’s and seeing myself going off to war where I, hopefully, lived through it. Then coming back and working as a writer, clacking away on my black, portable typewriter, cranking out books about the war, detective novels, or science fiction and making my living. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to find some woman as wonderful as the one I have now and have some kids that grow up to love writing as much as me.
Or maybe I should have been born at another time in history.
I watch a movie or read a book that is set in a different time period and wonder if I was supposed to have been born then or if I would even like being in that time period. There are a few that I would rather die than to have been alive. Just about any time period where you had to wear lots of clothes, even during the heat of the Summer. Honestly, screw that. During the Summer, I get hot in a t-shirt and cargo shorts.
There are a few periods of time I think I could have made a life and enjoyed it.
But would I have enjoyed it more than the time I am in now?
There are positives about every decade from the 1920’s to now and I can daydream about how I would live in each one. Maybe I would have been rich and/or famous in another time period. Or a lot worse off. Who knows?
Maybe I would have been a jazz player in the twenties and played with the greats. Or I would have been a producer in Hollywood that worked on the Our Gang series in the thirties. Or gone to war in the forties and became a hero. Maybe a beatnik in the fifties. Or a guru in the sixties.
The possibilities are endless. And, yes, I may have become nothing at all. I could have been a hobo or an out of work farmer during the depression or just go to war and go shot and died and put in some unmarked grave in the French countryside.
Lots of possibilities. Good and bad,
And here I am, born in the very early part of the 1970’s (end of 1971 to be exact) and I have seen lots of things. I have witnessed the rise and fall of governments and countries. I have seen a time when it was still safe to keep the door unlocked at night and then not. I have seen the fear that comes with being on the streets and the idea of leaving your child to play alone was taboo, for fear they would be snatched away. I have seen where technology improved our lives and then became part of our lives and then became our lives.
On the good side, I have seen love become real in my own life. I have seen where enlightenment was my favorite word and then it became a daddy (dad now).
I guess I can dream about all those other times I could have lived but remember that the time I was supposed to be in is the time I’m in. This is the time I was given, by God, the powers that be, the Universe, or whatever might or might not be in control. I was given a special moment to be here to walk and live on this planet. I was given a pinprick of the ticking clock to make something positive.
I hope I don’t let down whomever that put me here.
Of course, I sure would have loved to see the countryside of Austria in June of 1945.
Or…maybe I did.
July 6th, 2018
I’ve decided to keep a blog about how I’m dealing with depression. I’m going to consider this a form of therapy. It might not help anybody else but it might help me.