Our Emerald Isle - The Past

 It Never Goes Away

Now and then I find myself without much to do here in Dever, so I just sit around and think.  I ponder the world, my life, what brought me to where I am and oddly enough American politics.  Even though I now reside in the land of my ancestors, or at least part of them, the coming American presidential election leaves me puzzled. 

I use to have no trouble deciding who to vote for, but being involved in a few elections and working on the inside of a political organization I have come to realize that no one ever really lies, but then again no one really ever tells the truth.  Separating fact from fiction is very hard to do in politics, and the internet has almost made it impossible and so hard in fact that those who spin get spun to the point that they actually start to believe what they espouse.  

During the last several elections I have established a procedure that is true, being tried several times.  I pick one thing I know for certain that the candidates stand for, make sure it is important to me, and then base my vote on that one single item.  Right wrong or indifferent that is what I do.  Now, what about the upcoming race?  Well just follow along and stick with me.

In the late spring of 1968 I hopped in my car and drove off to Fort Bennining, Georgia for Basic Training.  My first step that would eventually land me a commission in the United States Army and in a couple of years send me to Viet Nam I assumed.  Only half of which came true.

I had no real desire to go to war nor did I have any real moral outrage that we were fighting in southeast Asia.  I just did not want to go and get shot.  If called upon I would go of course, jail or Canada not being an option.  However I would just as soon go on the best terms I could make for myself and to me being an officer seemed like a much better idea than being an enlisted man.  If for no other reason than I would receive more money when being shot at, which I assumed was going to happen anyway.  The war had no end in sight back then.  I had no idea what would transpire that could possibly keep me out of harms way.

I was in my second year of the advanced part of the Army ROTC program,( having skipped the first two years due to an accelerated program offered by the army at that time,) when the draft lottery picked my birthday as 170.  If I had not joined the advanced ROTC program I probably would not have been drafted but I was committed so didn’t complain about it.  I figured I was still going to have to go to Viet Nam.  It is funny looking back, I never really worried about it much.  It was just something you had to do if you had to.  Few of us wanted to go, but we just resigned ourselves to the fact that we would have to unless we got lucky some how.  Most of us in my small mid west college really did not understand the war protesters and looked upon them with amusement or disgust. 

After I received my commission I also received a letter a few months later that said that the Army had too many officers right then and that my full time service was not needed.  They gave me some options ranging from not doing anything to disputing the army’s decision and ask them to reconsidered. Well that was a no brainer.

One of the middle options was to join the national guard and economics won out.  I was teaching school waiting for my orders to come though for my training obligation and making $300 per month and I found out that the Missouri National Guard would pay me $70 a month.  The money sounded good.  I joined and walked in the door of the armory and back out the door 20 plus years later.

I have taken a long time getting to the point of this narrative and I am not sure I am there yet.  

In 1971, there were four kinds of people in the National Guard.  The Full Timers that handled all the day to day administrative and physical stuff necessary to support a local guard unit were the main stays.  They were usually career civil servants or state employees and for the most part former active duty people.  Then there were a few like me that got in the guard almost by accident or default, recognized the benefits and decided to stay in for awhile.  Then there were guys who were discharged from active duty, sort of liked the military and decided to come back in for the camaraderie and benefits.  The bulk of the soldiers however were those who were evading the draft.

I know, I know.  To state that the bulk of our reserve and national guard troops back then were a bunch of draft dodgers is not popular today, but to deny it is selective memory at its best.  

I am sure there was ( but I cannot remember meeting any one,) those who joined the national guard with out prior service that did not want to evade the draft.  It is different today of course and today’s reservist and guardsman are top notch and true patriots.  But this is now and that was then.

This year’s election will probably be the last one where what a person did during the Viet Nam era is a factor.  Bill Clinton received student deferments and protested the war, George W. Bush joined the air national guard, Dan Quail was in the Indiana guard, I believe, Dick Chaney received student and marriage deferments and said he had better things to do at the time, Kerry went and came home for reasons that are still unclear, I think Al Gore served as a reporter or cook or something in the regular army, and of course we all know about and Senator McCain.  Obama was to young, so was Ryan and I am not sure about Bieden (?sp).  So that leaves Governor Romney.  He is about my age and where did he spend the Viet Nam era?  Well if the reports are correct he spent that time in college and as a missionary of sorts for the Mormon Church in France.  By the time he returned his draft number might have been high or something like that I am not sure.  I am sure if he had been drafted he would have gone and served with distinction, because those Mormons I have come across in the military are fine soldiers and actually he seems like an honorable man; but the fact remains that he could have gone and served his country by putting himself in harms way but chose not to.  That puts him in the ranks of those like John Wayne;  they look good, talk the talk, but never had to walk the walk.  Now you might say that, “Well, Conley or Snapper, you did about the same thing.”  My answer would be ‘well sort of’ but I am not running for president either, where I would be sending young men and women into battle and never had the courage, or perhaps desire might be a better word, to go myself.   

Our Emerald Isle - Snake Eyes

Our Emerald Isle  -  Snakes Eyes

Some people will do or say anything for a free drink.

Traci was washing the windows and drawing her own crowd, Brian was pouring drinks, taking inventory, and flirting with one of the town lassies, Abdul was out back making some foundation repairs, and Bev was cooking up some home made gravy in the kitchen.  I was doing what I do best.

“So you see my fine lads, Alaska was visited by St Patrick and just like Ireland drove the snakes out.  How else can you explain that neither have none.”  With that I slammed back the rest of my Black and Tan feeling quite the expert and smug about matters that my newly found neighbors and Brian's Black and Tan pup goers knew nothing about.  I was fulfilling my duties as host and story teller for our establishment while providing a little educational enrichment. 

Through the bottom of my glass I could see Mack O’Willy finish off his pint with a slight smirk about his face.  He had just returned from Dublin where he worked in a traveling carnival.  The carnival had just played our town and O’Willy decided he was tired of all that stuff and decided he would stay home for awhile.  He had just quit and was grimy with dirt scattered from head to toe.  Typical I thought of Carnies, having had Carnies as relatives of my own.

I was unable to attend the two day carnival affair and didn’t want to anyway because in my youth I would work for my cousin providing chickens for the geek he had employed which happened to be another cousin.  I had and spent more time than one should in such places and all it did for me was to make me detest chicken prepared in any fashion.  I worked the bar while Traci, Brian, and Bev sold food at one of the concessions and Abdul puttered around outside between preparing the evening meal and washing dishes.  “You don’t believe me O’Willy,?” I asked

“Oh, I believe it alright, or I should say I believe you believe it, but you are way off about your facts,”  O’Willy informed.  “Most people believe the way you do but the facts, or I should say some of the facts like St Patrick and the snakes be not true at all, for the most part.  I cannot say about Alaska having no snakes or even about our blessed saint actually making it that far west or possibly north and then dipping south or going east if had a mind to.  All I know for sure is that there is at least one snake living in our beloved homeland and it being underneath the floor in the pipe crawl where we sit.”

A hush fell over my patrons and we all seemed to dip our heads and stair at the wooden floor.  Then simultaneously we fixed our eyes on O’Willy.

I soon gathered my thoughts and told O’Willy that if he was so sure to put his money where his big mouth was and bet me a round on the house that he was right and I was wrong.  He agreed but said he needed to tell us all a story first.  The Irish are always telling a story or two to get across a point that no one else seems to understand.

“You see Pub Keeper and honored patrons,” O’Willy began, “We don’t have a lot of snakes in Ireland but the ones we do have live a long, long time.  When I was just a lad my Grandfather, God rest him, woke me one night and asked me to help get rid of a snake he had seen crawling into a whole under this very pub.  Well, Baba, as I called him, had seen a lot of spiders and snakes in his day due to his love of the grain so it weren’t unreasonable that he woke me at such an early hour, for he had given up long ago trying to get anyone else’s attention.  How can you turn your sainted grandpa down.  Besides I always liked these midnight adventures of ours.  You see this was not the first time I was awoken to go on a hunt of some sort of creepy crawly or just to assure none were keeping his skin company.  We never caught a snake however, in fact I never really saw one or any other wiggly a reptile or crawling arachnid on or off his body.  But I came to realize then as now, it ain’t the trophy but the race.

“We made our way to the back of the pub here where Baba had seen the snake vanish into a whole.  Since I was the smaller of the two, naturally, he had me bend down to see if I could see anything in the whole.  Well it being night and all, all I could see was a bunch of blackness looking back at me, if in fact blackness can look at all.  I mentioned such to Baba and he immediately recognized the problem so he took a cigar out of his breast pocket, lit it and puffed to get a red glow.  While he was doing that I busied myself digging out around the whole to get a better view and enable me to extend me head and hand under the pub.

“When he figured he had illuminated the end of the cigar enough he handed it to me and I stuck it inside the whole along with part of my head and scanned the area.  At first I could not see a thing but then in a distance I saw two little red specks moving from sided to side in tandem. It startled me and I, yes I must admit, was scared more than just a little.

“ I jerked my head and arm back out of the whole and told Baba what I had seen.

 “Quick lad, let’s cover up the whole and trap the monster under the pub.  That way he can’t get out and will starve to death.”  

“But Baba, won’t he just find another way out or make a new whole?”

‘Heaven’s no, the owners have always believed in keeping their family foundation tight and solid and I am sure that applies to their home and pub also.  Besides a snake has no arms and he can’t dig his way out.  The animal will starve to death in no time at all.’  But I was not so sure, there were enough mice and soggy ground to keep anything alive and well fed and watered for many years, and if I were a betting man which it appears I am, I am sure the snake is there to this very day.  Some reptiles live to be over a hundred years old you know.”  O’Willy ordered another pint drained half of it and slammed the glass back on the bar.

As O’Willy finished his story I realized I had him in a trap.  Everyone in the pub was going to have a free drink and I was going to make a few more Irish dollars.  How could he think that he would be able to outwit me in the art of story telling. 

“Alright Mr. O’Willy even if I were to believe your story you still have no proof that snakes in general and that particular snake has lived all these many years.  How would you know?  You never looked back into the whole did you, how could you, you covered it up, and no foundation is that strong that there wont be a crack or two during the years for a snake to slither threw.  Just ask Abdul he is out back as we speak repairing a whole that seemed to materialize out of no where last night.  Ah, a nice story but a story no less, no facts to back it up.”  I waited for the laughter to die down and ordered a round on the house and waited for O’Willy to pay up.

“Pub keeper,” O’Willy responded, “There is away to prove my facts.  Facts are a stubborn thing you know.  Let us pull up a couple of these planks that make up your floor and you crawl down there with a flashlight and see for yourself.  There should be no fear on your part for two reasons: There are no snakes in Ireland you say and secondly if there was one it has already left or even dead and it no way could hurt you, or scare you, if you are prone to be scared that is of a small little slithering reptile.”

Ha, I thought to myself.  Me afraid of a snake, never, however crawling around a space small as  crawl space below was a different matter all together.  “I tell you what O’Willy, I am not going to crawl under the pub but I will stick my head between the two planks we remove and do a visual search with my flashlight.”  That seemed to satisfy O’Willy.

We cleared away some table and chairs from the center of the floor and a couple of the regulars began the process of lifting the wooden floor planks in such a manner so I could get my head and shoulders under the floor.  As two trusted patrons held my legs I dipped my body into the hole up to my hip region, began my visual search and as I had suspected there was no sign of a snake.  I yelled back up to the crowd that was growing and was about to tell them to pull me out when I heard a noise I could not make out.  It was sort of like a springing or hissing sound.  I turned the flashlight in direction of the noise and there looking at me were two beady eyes, red, moving back and forth in tandem.  I yelled for the men to hurry and get me out of there, they seemed like they were taking their time, but eventually they got me out of that hell whole. 

I was panting and sweating.  One of the boys gave me a Black and Tan that Brian had waiting for me and I told the men,  “Quick, put the floor back we’ll keep the little devil there for a few more years.  Some one tell Abdul to fill up the wholes around the foundation, NOW!  Alright O’Willy you won.  Brian, put the drinks on my tab instead of O’Willy’s, in fact make it another round.” A cheer came from the crowd.  I am a poor winner but a gracious loser.

About that time Bev came out of the kitchen followed by Abdul.  “What in the name of the Sicilian Gods is going on out here?”   I briefly told her, sort of sheepishly though.  She just stood their for awhile then bowed and shook her head.  “Look out the window pub keeper.”

 I could see the carnival going past and the last wagon to go by had painted on its side a picture of snake with two reddish eyes configured in such a way that its eyes seemed to  move from side to side in tandem.  “Reptilian bobble heads for sale” was painted in bright red letters under the picture just above the wheel wells.  I turned to confront O'Willy, but he was no where to be found.