November 11

Tomorrow is Veteran's Day in the US and Remembrance Day in Canada. Different name, same sacrifice. We all pay tribute to the men and women who sacrificed for our freedoms and those who continue to put themselves in harm’s way today.

It is also a time to honor the families of those who serve. These families have given their sons and daughters so that other people’s sons and daughters can live in peace. Whether the sacrifice is having their children gone for long periods, and the daily worries that go with that, or the ultimate sacrifice of their children's lives, we all owe them a debt a gratitude. My own kids are old enough to serve (and one is considering it) so I can only imagine the mix of pride and pain that goes along with having your child in uniform.

On this November 11, please thank a military mom or dad for what they offer and say a prayer for the safe return of every loved one serving.

That F'er Is Gonna Die!!!

I am not a violent kind of guy (well, except if you drive too slow on the highway, hold up the line at the grocery store, wear clothes that are obviously NOT YOUR SIZE…well you know what I mean) I am just not the violent type.

I love nature and all that comes with it (for the most part.) The line, for me, is usually drawn at bugs that ATTACK me…and by attack, I mean fly near my face or land on me. I take that as an act of aggression. Anyway… Living with ManicMariah, who loves all living things, I have learned to extend nature’s creatures an added luxury, the luxury of living if she can scoop them up and remove them from my “personal space.”

Now, on to the main topic. I am a guy who will actually admit that he enjoys hearing animals in nature, coyotes in the distance, ocean waves crashing, crickets chirping, birds singing, etc. …until recently, that is. Being here in Southern California, we usually leave our windows open, day and night, letting the cool ocean breeze flow through the house.

A while back, Manic Mariah and I would sit out in our front yard watching mom and dad Mockingbird, fighting off a gnarly band of crows in an attempt to protect their new family nesting in a tree in the yard. We’d sit there and cheer for the Mockingbirds. (we hate the crows.) That went on for a few weeks and the Mockingbirds did quite well in fending off the evil crows. We were then very happy to have this family of rough and tumble creatures taking up residence on our property.

These days…there is only one Mockingbird around…don’t know what happened to the others…but …well….let me explain. At 11PM EVERY night, this bird proceeds to (I will not call it sing) DESTROY the night with a barrage of about 8 different bird calls (chirping, tweeting and whistling) at the top of it’s lungs. Normally I would not mind, but this banter goes on from 11PM until sunrise…and never during the day. This intrusive noise is so bad that even from its roost in the front yard, I can hear it over the volume of the TV at the back of the house.

I and our teen have been driven completely mad with this F’ing irritating creature. I comment to Manic Mariah on a regular basis about it and she responds with, “Let the poor thing be. He is probably lost or something.” I’ve been holding off on any military action and did so as long as I could. The other night it just got under my skin to a point where I just could not take it any longer. I ran into Cody’s room, found his sling shot and proceeded to the front door. As I set foot on the front walk, the bird went silent. This stupid, shit-ass bird was some sort of mind reader and knew that there was only one reason for me to be in the front yard at midnight, dressed in fatigues and holding a slingshot and a handful of rocks.

I actually sat my old, tired ass in a bush (one with a clear view of the tree that was hosting the little F’er.) Sitting in a bush at midnight after having a few beers was not the ideal situation for me. I sat there for about 15 minutes. It was like I was a sniper in a war and I would lie in wait longer than my target….”do or die little birdie!!!!”

Finally, it started up again. At first I could not tell the exact location of the pesky thing and did not want to spray rocks all other the neighbor’s house – might be hard to explain to the police…alcohol, fatigues, sling shot, middle of night…you get the picture. Then I saw…branches slightly move. I honed my eyes on that very spot and continued to wait. (legs cramping, I had to burp, hard to focus eyes, etc) then there was movement again. Stealthily slipping a rock into the leather of my weapon and slowly extending the projectile…I gave one last check of my aim and let the rock fly. Listening intently, I heard the rock whiz through the tree hitting a few branches…and then the roof of the neighbor’s house. Shit, I hope I don’t have to wait another 15 minutes for this thing to move again. I didn’t…a second later it moved again….and started singing. I think it was singing…”you suck…you have no aim…you old fat fart!”

I reloaded and with every bit of precision that I could muster, sent another rock into the tree, this time hitting something that did not sound like tree…it was a bit more hollow. I remained in my sniper position to see if there would be any further enemy movement. I waited about 2 or three minutes…there was nothing. My eyes widened, huge grin on my face….I stood up. In my head telling myself, “I knew I should have been a sniper.” It was too dark for me to search the area for splattered bird at that point so I jumped out of the bush and ran inside, dropping my weapon and ammo on the ground as I entered. I raced upstairs and banged on teen’s door (I knew she was up by the reflection of the TV under her door.) As she turned her head to me, I blurted out, “I killed that freaking Mockingbird." She smiled and gave me a high five. I then went into my room, slipped out of my fatigues and curled up with Manic Mariah with a sense of complete accomplishment…and slept very well that night.

The next morning I rushed outside to marvel at my fallen enemy…but could not find any trace of him. Maybe the crows and a raccoon made off with him… there was nothing but I still did not hear any sign of that bastard. I was satisfied.

Normal Childhood - Military Training

We gathered at the edge of the woods as the sounds of clanking dishes filled the air. Full from the dinners we had all just finished, we sat and waited for the last two members of our squad.

All dressed in our fatigues (or as close as we could get) we had our briefing. The seven of us agreed that minimal talking/noise …and of course only using our code names would be the only way to keep our top secret mission intact.

We spread out slightly as we entered the woods. For the next ten minutes all we could hear was the faint crackling of pine needles beneath out boots and a random twig snapping as we pushed our way through the trees to our hide-out.

The air was still, breezes blocked by the acres of pine trees on all sides. We entered our 2 story fort one at a time, without making a sound. Once we were all inside, we began planning our day’s activities. In low, but commanding, whispers we discussed the three traps we were going to set along the paths to our hideaway.

*We’d seen enough Vietnam and random other war movies to know the best ones to ensnare the mistaken or intentional intruders.

Over the next 5 hours all seven of us worked diligently to perfect our military works of art. We split up into 3 groups; Pain, Sniper and Grunt worked on the bungee pit, Hammer, Red and Cap worked on the spring snare while Gunny, Top, Nuke and Camo perfected the suspended log (or mace trap).

**I will not tell you which of the above my code name was.

We regrouped as it began to get late in the day and began rounds to check out all of the work that had been done. All of the traps were set…satisfied with our ingenious success, we all headed home for dinner.

Around 8PM, we got back together, armed with flashlights to inspect our newly crafted traps…and to make sure that they were still in place.

The bungee pit was the first that we got to. It was just fine…a 4 foot deep ditch, which spanned the width of the path, covered with branches, twigs and leaves – hiding the bounty of sharpened wooden spikes that were positioned at the bottom, awaiting their first prey.


The spring snare was next. It was set with a young white birch tree, pulled back with a very sensitive network of ropes, a large slip knot and trip wire. We had high hopes for this one. We tripped it a few times and were thoroughly impressed.


Lastly we came to the mace trap. This was the hardest to set as the log, suspended 20 feet in the air, had to have weighed at least 100 pounds. Held in place only by a small stick attached to the rope acting as the trip wire…this was a sensitive one and we were all very careful not to trip it by accident.


Stay tuned to the ending of this story…in my next post.

(until then...go read the first, second and third installments about my childhood)

Put your money where your mouth is

Do you say you support our troops? Do you actually do anything about it? If not, here is your chance.

The fantastically awesome Hope is doing all she can to help our American men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan by sending a whole shit-load of care packages, but she can't do it by herself. Somehow she gets all that stuff donated and just needs our help to pay for shipping.

Click here to read her post about it today.

Your help would be appreciated, not only by her but by those she is trying to support. There is even a link on her blog for PayPal to make it easy for you. I sent $20 her way. How about you?

Do the right thing and show Hope some love.