Wednesday, April 22, 2015
The other day Juvat, resident F-15 Guy over at The Chant, commented that I have a great life.
Bang! Nailed it.
Yesterday Sarge suffered his second Monday of the week. I'd been kinda feeling sorry for myself yesterday because I had to spend an hour dealing with county gubment bureaucrats. I have a sneaking suspicion that Sarge would have traded me straight up and thrown in a case of lawn mowin' beer.
I'm ashamed to admit that most of the time I take my great good fortune for granted. I like to think I work hard and do a good job and make a contribution, but the fact is that I'm on easy street because I'm standing on the shoulders of Giants.
Hard work? Pfui. The sum total of my physical and intellectual output to date would just about add up to a season or two of modest effort for my forbears. Contribution? Pfui. My service to the nation amounts to a pleasure cruise when compared to the Sailors who came before me. I wouldn't make a pimple on the @$$ of a real Sailor.
I have the most profound reverence and deepest sense of gratitude for those who made my life possible. Because of them, stuff like this falls in my plate every day:
I hope that when the final totting up is done, my little contributions will have at least maintained the gift and not diminished it.