“I’m from California, I’m a jar head, a Marine” He told me with enthusiasm. “I was sent to Vietnam to help with the clean up as our troops were taken out in about 1975,” he said, “They are always trying to kill us, it was never really over.” He told me that he served in the Marine Corps for 48-months with his service starting at age 17, mostly in Saigon.
I asked him what he was doing in Louisville, Kentucky and he said, “Family brought me here, my parents had heart attacks over the past six years and both eventually died. Then my brother died of cancer, but I stayed.” He then talked about how he was on the list to get approved for housing, as he was currently living in a tent. Of course, he has been on that list for the past three years.
“So what kind of hang-ups do you have,” I asked him? “I don’t drink alcohol or do drugs, but I smoke [holding a cigarette in his hand] – I can’t quit it.” I noticed a large bandage wrapped around his right leg just above his ankle. “What happened,” I asked pointing at his leg? He then told me that he took a wrong step and fell down a hill. After he was transported to the hospital, doctors placed a metal rod into his leg, but it was healing.
“Honor to the soldier and sailor everywhere, who bravely bears his country's cause. Honor, also, to the citizen who cares for his brother in the field and serves, as he best can, the same cause.” ― Abraham Lincoln