Though it was way past a respectable bedtime in the Heartland, that being 10:30, Lois decided we should go on a parade and wake up my family at each of their houses so as to welcome home the lucky bastard who made it back six and half months early. Don't know if they appreciated having a couple of idiots banging on their doors after midnight on a work night. I know for sure I wouldn't. The last stop was at my Mom's house.
Lois' apartment days were a thing of the past. She'd moved into her folks basement to save some money for our early married days. Or to buy herself a Buick GS 400 should I bite the big one. Kind of a win-win situation before its time. So it was, "hello mom, is my bed made?," time until October 4th. And off to sleep at hour forty.
My good fortune at leaving Vietnam continues to this day. Yeah, I have bad attitude but don't own a trunk full of automatic assault weapons and I'm not living in the street. Only had a minor drug problem that wasn't that hard to sluff off without a trip to some thirty day semi-psycho ward. Combat vets don't seem to have a strong rate of physical or mental survival. I'm not any different than most vets. Just lucky my time was cut short.
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