Volunteered

     Yesterday, I was asked to lead the meeting of writers at the public Library in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania. It was a slightly shortened meeting, because our illustrious leader, Dr. Fred Adams was ill and couldn’t attend. His teaching of writing skills during the first fifteen to twenty minutes of the gathering was missing. I had handouts of writing tricks or techniques, but I wasn’t able to go into the depth that he does to make it more memorable.

The good thing was, the group wasn’t subject to our puns and repartees and feeble attempts at humor. The group did secede on the next project for display in the library. The theme will be poetry or a short essay or story about the coming season of spring.

With the help of the library staff, we were able to put on display our Valentine’s Day poetry for any who would like to view our offerings. Our usual display area has been taken over by the “vile” tax forms, necessary for taxpaying citizens to empty their pockets in the ever hungry maw of the state and federal government, so our works are on the window sills in the same area.

As I wrote the title of this blog, I was reminded of the real meaning of the Navy: Never-Volunteer-Yourself. While it’s not quite true, it was the expression many of my comrades in the thirteen button dress-blue pants would say. There were three types of uniforms in the Navy: the dungarees, the whites, and the dress blues.

The dungarees consisted of a pale blue work shirt, worn over a white T shirt, denim trousers, brogan shoes, and the either a ball cap or the white cap. The whites consisted of a short sleeve dress shirt or a long sleeve tunic, white trousers, a rolled kerchief, and the white navy cap. The blues were made of unlined wool tunic top, the stove pipe legged pants with the thirteen button fly, the rolled kerchief and the inevitable white hat.

I was so glad when I left the Navy. By that time those unlined, itchy, heavy wool trousers had eaten away all of the hair from my thighs and parts of my lower legs. There are still areas of my legs that the hair is afraid to grow.