Just wanted to re-post this for Veteran's day.

In my late teens I was naive, squirrely, painfully shy and generally fearful, which was made up for by trying to be macho. Such is the way of teenage humanity.

It was 1978 and I had worked with Steve for over a year and a half. I should say worked near by Steve in the shop.

Steve was a loner I guess you could say, he didn't small talk or joke around like the rest of the guys. Steve was a vet. There were other vets working there also. There was Emil the Polish artillery man that lost his left arm in the war. He had one of the most snarly demeanor's I've ever seen on a human which was all a put on. Probably to intimidate punk kid's like me. And there was Will also. An Oriental guy well over 6 feet tall from Mindanao who walked really bad and liked to bitch about the Japs that broke his knees. Nice guys both and I"m honored to have known them.

And then there was Steve..

Steve was around 6'2" square shouldered, rail straight and his face was frozen into a snarling grimace. A curled lip look of menace or disgust that scared the crap out of me. And he had freaking red eyes, FREAKING RED EYES! And he worked right behind me with that look of total disgust. And he had tics too. He was always swatting bugs that weren't there by his right ear. Trouble is he was right handed and had a razor sharp deburring tool in his hand that was waving around. I knew he wanted to kill me.

It was mentioned in whispers, little pieces of the puzzle of Steve. Too many flights in too many shot up aircraft with shot up buddies over Europe.....It was mentioned out the side of peoples mouths in hushed tones....shell shock..combat fatigue...they didn't have PTSD back then..and I just new he hated me and wanted to kill me.

He had to hate me. I was probably the embodiment of every thing he hated. Long haired, care free, bell bottom wearing punk.

Then one day in April of 78 we went on strike. Had to pull picket duty for 20$ a week and do my duty. Then one day the other guys decided to go to lunch. They said "Hey kid let's go to Chink's for lunch". I replied that I was only 19 and it wasn't a good idea. They said it's all right so I tagged along expecting the worst.

We were a motley crew walking the 2 blocks to "Chink's Foundry Lounge". A 500 pound tool maker, a 6 foot Oriental, a one armed Pollack waiving his hook and swearing at traffic, a hippy looking punk. and Steve holding up the rear swatting at bugs that weren't there.

To this day I have never seen a seedier dive than Chink's. Housed in the ratty bare floored office of a defunct foundry and sweet Jesus the bar tender looks like an older Brock Lesnar with tattoo's and a military buzz.

We walk in and he says sternly "Hey guy's, that kid's too young". The boy's replied "He's all right Chink". Chink gets a little louder " He's way too young"! By this time I'm inching towards the door in case Chink wants to chase me out with a club. It was common to run off under age kid's back then with a stick of some kind to put a little fear of God in them. I was already scared by the looks of Chink and his demeanor. I moved to take a step towards the door to avoid any trouble when a big hand grabs my shoulder. Jesus Christ now Steve's got me. He holds me firm and in a voice I'd never heard come out of him before, he says "CHINK I SAID THIS KID'S ALL RIGHT".....All of a sudden, Chink replies , in a very sheepish tone..."All rrright Steve, what ever you say". All was well. I think it was that day I saw that Steve really had steely blue eyes. Sad, but steely blue.

One of the proudest moments of my life. 40 years later I still remember that Steve said I was alright and I think about it when I'm feeling hopeless and overwhelmed. If a vet like Steve says you are alright, you can take it to heart that you have untapped resources to get through life.

I don't know what I had ever done to warrant any respect our consideration from those brave, wounded vet's. I knew I needed to do a lot more of it. Especially Steve.... Did I mention he had steely blue eyes?

Good stuff. And we should all remember we have untapped resources.

Sometimes, we gat affirmation from the craziest people.

An annual post? A good read.

Good story.

Good story.

I am reminded of my step dad and his story. He was in Europe during WW2. Infantry, fought his way through Italy into Germany. Was finally medevac'd back to the states after taking 3 German machine gun rounds through his abdomen.

He never talked about it until one day we were riding in the car, just the 2 of us, and he started to tell me about his WW2 experiences. Maybe it was because I had just returned from a 4 year tour in Germany, on the east/west border.

I was honored that he started telling me about it, and let him talk all he wanted. Then he got into his previously married life. That wife had this habit of partying with other men.

He knew where she was on a specific night and decided to fix the problem. Took his pistol and fortunately, his best friend to the dive where she was. Found her in the back seat of her car with some dude in the saddle. He was going to shoot both of them, and as he said, he could have gotten both of them with one shot.

His buddy talked him out of it. Divorce followed. He and my mom celebrated 50 years of marriage. After the day that Bud opened up to me, we had a closer relationship than I had with my first step-dad. When we were clearing out the house after mom died, we found a cigar box with a bunch of his army items in it. Don't remember now which specific ones, but at least a couple for exceptional service.

Still miss him, and look forward to seeing him again.