I lived at home, for a year,
between hitches in the service.
I attended
in
and drove my brother’s car to school.
He was off at the
When I dropped out of high school
I lost my place in the queue.
There was no GI Bill. I had no money of
my own. I reenlisted. To learn a trade,
to have the GI Bill when I got out,
the second time, and to get back overseas
where I could get laid. I didn’t know how
to do it in civilian life. In college.
At home. In my old room.
I drank. My parents disapproved.
It was enough to make a person
do something against his own best interests.
Or maybe it was for the best. It was the best
that I could do in the circumstances I was in.
I did learn a trade. Electronics technician.
I did get back overseas.
To
and
when I got out the second time. I read
a lot of books. I wrote a lot of letters to
Jack Neff. Not so many to Ed Stehney.
Bill dropped out to marry Lucky.
She was pregnant. He could have had
a tennis scholarship as a walk-on if he had kept
his pecker in his pants. Sic transit gloria Monday.