Cockiness

My father inscribed the photo with the comments you see. I'm pretty sure this is how he sees life. I know I see it that way.

Look at him. That's what I call cocky. This is Korea in 1960. My father was a young lieutenant in the Air Defense Artillery branch. That must have been cooler than cool in 1960. Screwing around with missiles...cutting edge stuff I imagine. Sure to give a man a sense of confidence. I am the shit.

Unfortunately, I inherited a lot of his confidence. Like anyone with lots of confidence it comes from a poor self image. Cocky people always feel like they're a screw up. They just don't want anyone finding out. That's why they're cocky. It's pretty simple.

Moving around a lot I discovered that most teachers don't like cocky kids. Especially those who show up in the dead of winter with a peeling burn from Texas. If you're different and you're cocky - - you're gonna catch some hell. I worked for a colonel in the army who said, " I'm so confused I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my ass." I know that has nothing to do this - - but he also told me, "You're a smart ass. It's in your walk. It's in your talk. You can't help it. Me? I like confidence. But most people don't. Remember that."

So there I am. Standing at that bar. A piece of me at least. A scared little boy puffing his chest out so the big fish don't eat him.

American Imperialist Aggressor

Here's the old man in Panmunjeom in 1971. I though it wise to post this in case he's able to get out of his wheel chair and kick my ass. You never know with these guys. This was a good five years before the "Poplar Tree Incident" where...Well, I'll let my Dad tell it, "The nasty felons of the north attacked our guys with axes and murdered them." So it says on the back of this photo.

Panmunjeom is a serious place. Was then and still is. Even when your father is not in a shooting war they can be assigned to some very dangerous places. You can just see on the bottom left of the picure an extra magazine stuffed down the back of the holster. I assume it's a .45 but he was known to carry a Browning 9mm Hi Powered automatic as well.

This photo is how I remember my father. Starched fatigues with his beloved Topcon Super RE (known as the Super D in the states). After I was 12, he built a darkroom in every house we lived in. He hooked up speakers and would spend hours in there sloshing paper in Dektol and listening to Astrud Gilberto and Ahmad Jamal. I guess it beat reading in the bathroom.

Funny Dad - - but not at home.

He'd kill me if he knew I was doing this. But he's going thru Chemo so he's not gonna be kicking any one's ass. Especially mine. These were taken in South Korea around 1971. He was with the 2nd Infantry Division. That's a woman's Red Cross uniform and I can't even begin to think -- of what this -- was all about. Except as a grown man I look at these picture and laugh out loud. I wish he did this for us every once in a while. But I guess he's doing it for us now.