WAY-BACK WEDNESDAY

 From time to time, I have taken the time to look back at a time in my past.

That has passed.

And I am often aghast.

Okay, I'll stop with the word games.

But anyway, I decided today was a good day to see where I was and what I was doing a few years ago.

So I turned the calendar pages back ten years ago and guess what I found?

We were preparing to make yet another move.

This time from Phoenix, where we had just spent a little less than ten months, back to Prescott Valley, where we had lived for nearly 20 years before.

We found in our ever-more-Senior years that Phoenix was just too hot and too expensive for us.

That was three moves ago.

Three in ten years and we're hoping the one that got us here was our last.

I had thought I'd turn back the calendar 20 years but I found that this blog only started in 2008, nearly 16 years ago.

But I did find an interesting if rather long post from that year and I thought I'd post it again.

After all, not all of you were with me back in that time.

LETTER FROM A FARM KID

(NOW AT Camp Lejeune NC . MARINE CORPS RECRUIT TRAINING.)

Dear Ma and Pa,

I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. but I am getting so I like to sleep late.

Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.

Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.

Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you til noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.

We go on 'route marches,' which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A 'route march' is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice but awful flat.

The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6' and 130 pounds and he's 6'8' and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,
Carol