Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":458,"date":"2015-01-28T20:12:55","date_gmt":"2015-01-29T02:12:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=458"},"modified":"2015-01-28T20:17:23","modified_gmt":"2015-01-29T02:17:23","slug":"458","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=458","title":{"rendered":"Gone, and Soon Forgotten"},"content":{"rendered":"

Gone, and Soon Forgotten<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

December 16, 1960, 11:50 AM \u2013 1:45 PM<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

I recall the cool mid-winter Houston breeze sifting through my thin white shirt as I quickly climbed the widely spaced flat stone stairs in front of the giant granite monstrosity known as the Federal Building. Walking through its enormous brass and finely engraved glass doors I looked around the large open foyer trying to find anything that might tell me where I was supposed to go. I spotted a hat-rack looking device in the center of the floor with a rectangular white cardboard sign perched on top with \u201cUSAF\u201d printed in block letters, followed by an arrow directing me to bear right.<\/p>\n

In a corner, next to a bank of elevators, and sitting behind a small metal desk, was a young uniformed airman\u2014looking not much older than me. As I approached he looked up smiling, and politely asked my name. Searching through one of the two large stacks of stiff reddish brown cardboard binders on each side of his desk, he handed me one\u2014my name neatly stenciled on the front cover\u2014and asked that I carefully review each sheet of neatly catalogued data contained therein. I would later recall that this was the last time, for a long time that anyone would speak to me politely.<\/p>\n

After leafing through the aptitude tests, interview data, and birth certificate facsimile, I initialed the front cover with a fat black grease pencil, handed the folder back, and was motioned to find a seat on one of several wooden folding chairs arranged against a back wall. Two other pimply-faced, wide-eyed enlistees were already there, nervously studying their hands as I took a seat next to them.<\/p>\n

After a while most of the chairs were filled and the young airman stood and asked us to gather by the last elevator. When the car arrived we piled in and rode down a couple of floors. Grinding to a bumpy halt the doors opened revealing a dank and dimly lit hallway, its floor covered in a bizarre pattern of black and white checkerboard tile.<\/p>\n

The young airman stepped out and motioned us to exit to the right. He walked briskly ahead of our little group and down the hallway until we got to an oak door festooned with a shiny brass push plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK.\u201d he said, assuming a stance next to the door that I would later learn was \u2018parade rest\u2019. \u201cOnce you go through that door, find a locker, undress down to your shorts, and put your clothes, shoes, and valuables inside it\u2014watches, rings, everything. You\u2019ll see that each locker already has a lock with a key on a leather strap, so lock it up and secure the key onto your wrist. Note that the key and the locker have identical numbers, so you\u2019ll be able to find and retrieve your stuff later. Questions?\u201d No one said a word.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, in you go!\u201d he said, pivoting smartly to his left and pushing the heavy door open.<\/p>\n

It was a large dark locker room, long wooden benches set between at least twenty rows of double-stacked lockers. Everyone scattered to different areas to find a locker that was a respectable distance from everyone else\u2019s, and I was no different.<\/p>\n

Having stripped down to my shorts after stuffing my khaki pants, white shirt, shoes and socks into the metal locker, I snapped the lock and removed the key\u2014taking care to wrap the stiff leather band holding it securely to my wrist.<\/p>\n

Walking to the end of the row of lockers I saw the airman standing by an exit door while holding it open. As I approached the door he said, \u201cStep to the right and get in line please\u2026alphabetically!\u201d<\/p>\n

A few moments later, after exchanging last name first letters, I took my place behind four other young men; the first standing in front of a white door with a sign that said, \u201cExamination Room\u201d.<\/p>\n

The door popped open and the first guy in line, probably with a last name starting with an \u201cA\u201d, was asked to walk in. In ragged sequence we all moved up one space and waited. Although the room, painted a dull and incomprehensible combination of beige and dark gray, was not particularly cold, everyone seemed to be shivering anyway.<\/p>\n

When it was my turn in front of the door I felt pretty stupid standing there, facing a white door at parade rest (legs spread out comfortably, hands behind my back). Then, the door opened and I took a step into the room.<\/p>\n

There were three men in the room. Two, wearing long white lab coats over plaid shirts and khaki pants and standing, while the other, seated at a table and writing on thin amber colored sheets of paper, was dressed smartly in a crisp blue United States Air Force uniform.<\/p>\n

In my best military heel-to-toe forward march, I approached a solid red line on the floor. One of the fellows on the left in a white lab coat (number one) gave me a quick once over and asked me to pull my shorts down to my thighs.\u00a0What?<\/em><\/p>\n

While I was briefly contemplating his request, the other white lab coat on my right (number two) reached up, pulled my jaw open and jammed a large wooden stick down my throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay, AH!!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAhhrrgg\u2026\u201d was the best I could do, trying mightily not to projectile vomit onto his face.<\/p>\n

Blindly pushing my boxers down modestly to my pubic hairline I felt a firm hand grab the waistline of my shorts and yank downward. Next, I felt an uncomfortably warm and very soft hand grasp my penis.\u00a0Oooh.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAhhrgg?\u201d I gagged and tried to look down to see what number one was doing.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo tonsils, huh?\u201d number two asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, guh,\u201d was all I could manage to say while at the same time trying to push my eyeballs to their lower limit to see what number one was really up to down there.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna peel\u2019er back!\u201d number one announced to no one in particular\u2014and I apprehensively wondered just what that meant. A second later I found out and I didn\u2019t like it. I believe I was also now standing on my tippy toes.<\/p>\n

As number two pulled the stick out from my throat he pushed my head back and shone a strong light into my nostrils. \u201cNasal problems?\u201d he asked gruffly.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoh\u2026\u201d I responded.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood! Now hold your head still while I look into your ears.\u201d<\/p>\n

Number one loudly announced to the room that he was \u201cunpeeling\u201d, and suddenly began a rough, yet slightly erotic, massaging of my testicles. Never having had this type of service performed in roughly eighteen years, my testes executed a neat little retreat and popped neatly back up into my body.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on boy, drop\u2019em back down and don\u2019t you dare get a hard on!\u201d he said, threateningly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d I said, a bit confused because I really didn\u2019t know where they\u2019d gone, and I sure as hell didn\u2019t know how to call them back down either. Plus, I wasn\u2019t so sure I could restrain those delicious little pulses of energy that I was starting to feel down there. \u201cUh, OK.\u201d That coming out a little weakly as I tried to concentrate on the cold plastic pointy thing painfully jammed into my right ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck, never mind!\u201d he said and stuck a thick index finger into my left upper scrotum.<\/p>\n

\u201cTurn your head to the right and cough!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus! Turn your fucking head to the right and cough!\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t think he realized that his buddy still had a sharp object tightly inserted into my ear. \u201cMy ear is full.\u201d I complained.<\/p>\n

\u201cCOUGH!”<\/p>\n

Just then my ear went empty and I quickly turned my head to the right and produced a hacky-wheezy little sound that would never be defined as a cough.<\/p>\n

Jamming his finger into my upper right scrotum he yelled, \u201cTURN YOUR HEAD TO THE LEFT AND COUGH!\u201d I made a supreme effort to produce a manly deep-throated cough, with maybe a little phlegm thrown in for effect, but again was only able to make the same sound again\u2014albeit a bit more strained.<\/p>\n

\u201cPull your shorts up and look at the chart on the wall! What do you see?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBig letters on top and smaller ones on the bottom.\u201d I replied honestly, never ever having taken an eye test.<\/p>\n

\u201cSmart ass!\u201d number one said. \u201cRead line four from left to right.\u201d<\/p>\n

OK, now when someone says \u2018read\u2019, I\u2019m assuming there are words there.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t see words\u2014only letters.”<\/p>\n

\u201cREAD THE FUCKING LETTERS, SMARTASS!\u201d<\/p>\n

I spit out, \u201cA, O, B, G, R\u201d and I was hoping I passed. If he\u2019d asked for line three, or even two, I would\u2019ve done those too. But I assumed he wanted only the big letters.<\/p>\n

Number one spun me around, looked deep into my eyes and asked, \u201cYou ever have the clap?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWh\u2026what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe clap! You ever get a dose of the clap?\u201d<\/p>\n

I was so nervous that suddenly I had no earthly idea what he\u2019d just asked me. \u201cI don\u2019t know. What is it?\u201d I wanted to explain to him that since I\u2019d never left the state of Texas I couldn\u2019t have possibly contracted any exotic foreign disease\u2014but he persisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cGonorrhea, asshole! Or syphilis. Ever get them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but I have had asthma, though.\u201d I responded helpfully. \u201cMy last episode was three years ago when I was fifteen. But I think I put that down on my application.\u201d I added confidently. After all, I didn\u2019t want to get washed out of the Air Force for withholding important health history information.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus!\u201d number two snorted.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, this guy\u2019s a fucking moron.\u201d number one hissed.<\/p>\n

Number two deftly inserted his pointy plastic tool into my left ear. \u201cHold still, dammit! You got scarring on your eardrums. Did you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n

I really didn\u2019t feel like discussing my ears with number two at this point, I was a bit more interested in producing a more pleasing manly-like cough for number one, should he request another; and I was still a bit mystified about the clap thing.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d number two yelled. \u201cYou got scarring. Where did you get it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I said thoughtfully, \u201cI\u2019ve always had ear infections.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you hear me alright?\u201d number two yelled into my right ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d I responded through the ringing in my ears.<\/p>\n

Number one released my genitals to my great relief, (and maybe just a wee touch of disappointment), and told the spiffy looking officer at the table, \u201cHe\u2019s 1A\u2014if not a little dumb.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne A,\u201d the officer said slowly\u2014studiously writing very carefully onto the amber sheet clipped in the brown folder.<\/p>\n

Number one, and for good measure number two, both pointed at a side door, and number one said, \u201cGo through there, open your locker, dress yourself, and wait in the lobby with the other morons. Think you can do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u201d I said assertively, all the while surreptitiously feeling for the key still strapped to my wrist. I marched out as proudly as I could in my white boxers, my ears still ringing and my ego, just a bit bruised.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Hurry Up and Wait<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Having dressed and regrouped just outside of the locker room, I, and the other Air Force inductees were marched into the elevator and taken to a large conference room located on the next floor level up. A large crystal chandelier hung in the center and there were probably enough chairs to seat at least a hundred people. On the far end of the room was a lectern emblazoned with the City of Houston, Harris County seal, and on either side stood the United States flag and the Texas state flag. We joined several other groups of wide-eyed and foot shuffling young men, who were apparently joining several other branches of the military\u2014as each group was shepherded by a young non-commissioned officer dressed in the corresponding service uniform.<\/p>\n

We all sat quietly, with no one making even the slightest attempt at conversation, when a door at the front side of the room suddenly opened. A gray haired military officer in a colorful Marine Corps dress uniform, chest dripping with rows of medals, stood stock still at the door.<\/p>\n

Suddenly one of the military escorts stood and yelled, \u201cATTENNN\u2026HUT!!\u2014and snapped into a rigid knees locked, arms pasted to each side, head held high posture.<\/p>\n

Well, maybe not quite as precise as the military guys did, but we all stood up slowly and looked straight ahead.<\/p>\n

Having waited a beat or two, the officer then strode smartly to the center of the room stopping in front of the lectern. He rapidly turned to face us and snapped his heels sharply. With his steely blue eyes he seemed to study each separate group intently while standing ramrod straight with his chin out. Finally, focusing his stare at the center of the group, he finally spoke:<\/p>\n

\u201cGentlemen. I am Colonel Rogers, United State Marine Corps, and I have been briefed that each of you has successfully completed all the military pre-enlistment requirements. Therefore, I have been proudly charged with the responsibility of administering the oath of enlistment to each of you, so that you may begin your career as official members of the Armed Forces of the United States of America. [He paused, his eyes again surveying the group.] You shall repeat, after me, every word\u2014inserting your full name after I say the word \u2018I\u2019, of this solemn oath. Are there any questions?\u201d\u00a0(No).\u00a0<\/em>\u201cIs there any reason you may not want to take this oath?\u201d\u00a0(No).<\/em>\u00a0\u201cDoes anyone have any objection to swearing this oath to Almighty God?\u201d No one said a word. \u201cThen gentlemen, raise your right hand and repeat after me:\u201d<\/p>\n

The Oath<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

“I, Frank De Le\u00f3n, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”<\/em><\/p>\n

We all lowered our arms and waited for the colonel to speak. \u201cGentlemen,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cyou are now members of an elite and distinguished fraternity. You are soldiers, sailors, airmen and coast guardsmen; all in the service of the greatest country in the world\u2026the United States of America! Please accept my congratulations.\u201d [Hooyah!!] With that, he snapped a sharp salute, spun left and marched out through the door from which he had entered.<\/p>\n

From the back of the room, a shrill command: \u201cAT EASE!! And everyone in the room took a seat.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Recollections<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was kind of silly, I guess, but at that moment I felt very proud of myself, and maybe a little giddy too. For the first time in my life I felt a deep sense of belonging\u2014and a feeling of serious responsibility. I had never been very confident of my abilities, and having someone tell you every day that if you don\u2019t live your life a certain way you will end up burning in hell, sure didn\u2019t lend itself to my developing a healthy sense of self-worth.<\/p>\n

As I sat in the corner of that conference room waiting for who knows what, I slowly began to fathom the enormity of the decision that I had made; one that I knew would not only physically transport me away from everything and everyone I\u2019d ever known, but also introduce me to a whole new lifestyle.<\/p>\n

Try as I might, I could not visualize what my life would be like from this point on, but what I did know was that I would no longer be forced by anyone to participate in a lifestyle that to me had become so distasteful and repulsive. The incident at Templo Bethel when Villa had humiliated me and Estella in front of over two hundred people\u2014berating us for \u201csins\u201d that we had not even come close to committing had driven a permanent wedge between the Pentecostals and me. Even though I hadn\u2019t seen her in at least a year, I still mourned losing Estella in the way I did; and it would take several years of booze and bad relationships before I was finally able to get past her memory forever.<\/p>\n

As I sat there I recalled the small gifts I had received as a result of my association with the Pentecostal church during the past five or six years: an appreciation for music, my love of the guitar, and my father\u2019s sobriety. But these things literally paled in comparison to my other experiences with sheer hypocrisy, greed, and the church\u2019s cruel and selfish manipulation of an entire class of people, just for the benefit of a few.<\/p>\n

And then, of course, there was the issue with my parents. Yes, my father no longer drank, but things had not really changed for the better once he turned Pentecostal. He still didn\u2019t place any priority on his family\u2014least of all my mother\u2014and instead of spending his money on drunken friends as he\u2019d done for so many years, he now did the very same thing with his church buddies.<\/p>\n

Because of his selfishness and self-centered drive to become a reverend at all costs, and to put on display his grandiose generosity to everyone other than those in his family, we were made to live in rental dumps and subsist on the ragged edge of poverty. In the end, there always seemed to be plenty of money to shower on Villa and the rest of his cronies, but yet there hadn\u2019t even been enough money for him to spring for a lousy cap and gown for my high school graduation.<\/p>\n

And so, as I sat there thinking and getting angrier by the second, I made a solemn promise to myself: With my life at a critical crossroads and knowing what I now knew, I bitterly vowed never to associate myself with any religious movement for as long as I lived, and to shun anyone who even appeared to be religious.\u00a0\u00a0 My involvement with two separate religions had left me empty, disappointed, and mostly angry.<\/p>\n

Although my personal experience with Catholicism had been brief and fleeting, I had seen plenty of instances where men in our neighborhood who were wife-beating, drunken monsters Monday through Saturday, meekly made their trek to Mass to have their sins \u201cforgiven\u201d by some white collared agent of God. Holy redemption from heinous acts against loved ones in exchange for a few Hail Marys and a liberal accommodation to the church. Disgusting.<\/p>\n

Just sitting there thinking about all of this sent a bitter wave of disgust through my body and revulsion rose and passed through my heart, forcing my head down into my hands.\u00a0\u00a0 A hard shudder all but shook me off the chair.\u00a0\u00a0 Looking up and blinking rapidly, my eyes stinging just a little bit, I tried to swallow and soothe the lump now steadily growing in my throat. Taking a long deep breath I lowered my gaze to the floor, hoping that none of my fellow inductees had noticed.<\/p>\n

In those few seconds my life and the outlook on my future began to take shape. Here I was standing at the precipice of my present life as a pitifully dependent adolescent, but I was ready to take the next step and transform myself into a young man on the verge of manhood. I clearly understood that the decisions I would make from this point on would determine who I would end up being, and I promised myself that, good or bad, I would forever own those decisions. Of course I had no way of foretelling the amount of pain and disappointment that some of those decisions would bring into my life or how much I would suffer, but somehow, at that moment I knew that this was what I had to do.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The officer that I\u2019d seen in the examination room came into the conference room through the side door accompanied by a pudgy, red-faced little man stuffed into a tightly-fitting Air Force uniform, carrying a handful of papers.<\/p>\n

\u201cAir Force inductees,\u201d the officer bellowed, \u201cThis is Sergeant Gentry,\u201d cocking his head in the direction of the rotund little fellow following in his wake. \u201cHe\u2019s got some paperwork, some vouchers, and some instructions for each of you to read and acknowledge\u2014so let\u2019s move over to the back of the room so he can get this paperwork distributed.\u201d<\/p>\n

We all stood up and followed the two uniformed men to a back corner of the room. There, on the floor, now all neatly stacked and fastened together with heavy cording, the reddish-brown folders containing all of the information on our physical exams, test results, and personal information. We gathered around the two men, in a loose circle, waiting for further instructions.<\/p>\n

Pulling out a folded sheet of paper from the inside breast pocket of his uniform jacket, Sergeant Gentry unfolded it carefully and studied it for a few seconds. Clearing his throat he looked up and addressed us.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, airmen,\u201d then he paused, \u201cthat\u2019s what you are now you know. You\u2019re basic airmen in the service of the U.S. Airforce!\u201d He let a few seconds pass for that information to sink in. Looking back down to the sheet of paper, he continued, \u201cAt sixteen hundred hours\u2014four o\u2019clock for those of you don\u2019t know military time yet\u2014you\u2019ll be driven by van to a local Luby\u2019s Cafeteria for chow.\u201d He glanced back up and added, \u201cat the expense of the Air Force, by the way. At seventeen hundred we\u2019ll reconvene here to gather up your records, then after a head count you\u2019ll be loaded back into the van for a ride down to the Greyhound Bus station. There, at nineteen hundred you\u2019ll board a bus bound for Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. Between the time we get back from chow and when the van pulls out you\u2019ll have a chance to call your folks, girlfriends, wives, and so forth, to let them know that you\u2019ll be departing from the Greyhound Bus station. That way, if they want, they can come up and see you off. Otherwise, it\u2019ll be at least six weeks before you\u2019ll be allowed to see family or friends.\u201d His eyes popped up from the sheet of paper\u2014and with a little grin added, \u201cYou see, you\u2019ll be too fucking busy learning how to be righteous military men and unlearning how to be civilian pussies for you to even think about anything else.\u201d<\/p>\n

A few of us let out a nervous chuckle.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are a bank of pay phones in the lobby of this building,\u201d he continued, \u201cand if you don\u2019t have ten cents for the call, the Air Force will give you a dime. OK, who needs one?\u201d<\/p>\n

As the majority of the group pushed forward to receive the coin that the sergeant was peeling out of a paper roll of dimes, I was really undecided whether or not to call my parents. Our parting had not been pleasant, to say the least, so I really wasn\u2019t sure how they would react to my asking them if they wanted to drive to the bus station to say goodbye. As the last of the group received his dime, I decided to go ahead and give it a shot. I stepped up with my hand out and was the last one to get a dime.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, mom?\u201d I asked tentatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, uh, it\u2019s me. I just thought I\u2019d call to tell you that I\u2019m leaving tonight at seven from the Greyhound terminal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah? So what?\u201d Her voice sounded dead, not angry\u2026just dead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I continued, \u201cif you and dad, and maybe Ricky, want to come here and see me off. Most of the guys I\u2019m leaving with are having their parents come up to say goodbye. So I just thought\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll ask your dad when he gets home from work,\u201d she said curtly, \u201canything else?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2026I just thought\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll ask him, bye.\u201d Click!<\/p>\n

I felt tears welling up and I fought hard to keep them down. Putting the phone back in its cradle I heard the thin dime release, and with a sharp metallic clang drop deep into the phone\u2019s coin box. Taking a deep breath I looked around and saw the other guys cheerfully talking into their phones\u2014smiling, laughing, and some whispering into the handset, hands cupped, shielding their secret conversations from other prying ears.<\/p>\n

I stepped away from the phone bank, shoving my hands into my pants pocket and looking around to see where I could just sit down.<\/p>\n

\u201cHEY YOU! Airman DeLeon, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, I looked to my left to see Sergeant Gentry pointing at me with one hand while holding the stack of reddish brown folders in the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir?\u201d I managed to respond. \u201cYes, I\u2019m DeLeon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re now AIRMAN DeLeon!\u201d He boomed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir. Airman DeLeon!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome here!\u201d Waving me over. \u201cI\u2019ve appointed you group leader. You know what that means?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt means I\u2019m going to give you these record folders, and you\u2019re going to be responsible for them until you deliver them to your drill sergeant at Lackland.\u201d He held the folders out for me to take. \u201cYou will guard these like you guard your gonads! You understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

I really wasn\u2019t too sure what gonads were, but I got the gist of his charge. \u201cYes sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou lose these, get them out of order, or fuck them up in any way and your ass is grass! Get it?\u201d He thundered.<\/p>\n

Well, there were now two things I\u2019d never heard before, but again I understood perfectly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir!\u201d I took the folders and almost dropped them, surprised at the weight.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo fuckups, right?\u201d He pressed.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir, none whatsoever! I understand!\u201d<\/p>\n

Holding the folders by the loop in the thick cord with one hand with the other under them, supporting their weight, I stood there uncomfortably shifting my weight from one leg to the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cAIRMEN!!\u201d Sergeant Gentry yelled from behind me, and I jumped a little bit. \u201cForm up outside by the street, alphabetically (I would get very used to this type of \u2018forming up\u2019) and shortly there\u2019ll be a blue bus come up. Get in, sit down, shuddup, and get ready to go to chow!\u201d<\/p>\n

We hurried out into the late afternoon, and I was surprised at how dim the day had gotten. After a bit if confusion trying to line up alphabetically we finally got it figured out.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere the fuck is DeLeon?\u201d I heard Sergeant Gentry yell just as I was setting the pile of folders down on the sidewalk between me, and the guy in front.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere sir.\u201d I said, as I raised my hand helpfully.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the fuck are you doing there, for God\u2019s sake? You\u2019re the group leader, god dammit. You belong at the front of the fucking line. Jesus!!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I gasped. \u201cSorry, I didn\u2019t know. I just got in line alphabetically.\u201d I picked up the stack of folders and scooted up to the head of the line.<\/p>\n

\u201cLISTEN UP, AIRMEN!\u201d Gentry bellowed, his voice echoing down Rusk Avenue as he looked down the line of terrified young men. \u201cThis here,\u201d sticking a stubby nicotine- stained finger in my face, \u201cis Group Leader DeLeon. He\u2019s hot shit! And you know why?\u201d He really didn\u2019t expect an answer, even though a couple of dumb shits tried raising their hands. \u201cBecause he\u2019s got\u00a0your\u00a0<\/strong>fucking lives in his hands. These folders he\u2019s holding represent just who the fuck each and every one of you are. If he fucks up and loses them, or gets them out of order, you will be so fucked for the rest of your Air Force career!\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t really think he meant that as it sounded, but then again maybe he did. A frighteningly real picture popped up into my imagination featuring me being court-martialed and then summarily executed because I\u2019d somehow fucked up the folders. I was now sweating profusely and my teeth made a little grinding sound.<\/p>\n

Looking over my shoulder as I took the front position in the front of the line I met the leering stare of eleven other guys. I could hear them all asking the same question: \u201cJust how the fuck did\u00a0he<\/strong>\u00a0get to be in charge?\u201d Well, I sure as hell didn\u2019t know either.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Long and Lonely Road<\/b><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Dinner (or chow, as I would later learn to call any food destined for my stomach) proved to be a bit more adventurous than good. As the bus pulled up to the Luby\u2019s Cafeteria I recognized the restaurant as one my mom had taken me to several years prior when financial times were better. We\u2019d taken in a matinee movie, and afterwards instead of making our usual trip to Kress\u2019s Department Store for fresh hot chili dogs and a Coke, my mother had taken me to this Luby\u2019s. I recalled my amazement and slight confusion as I was presented with multiple choices for salads, soups, entrees, and finally desserts. Leaving nothing to chance, my mother made all the food choices for me, but I nevertheless left the restaurant highly impressed.<\/p>\n

As instructed, we entered the cafeteria, with me and the folders in the lead, and the rest of the troops following in alphabetical order. And that\u2019s when the problems started. As I approached the beginning of the food line I was supposed to select a tray and silverware, then slide the tray down the line while pointing out my food choice to the uniformed waitress behind the counter. It was those damned folders. They were too heavy for me to hold in one hand, yet at least one hand was necessary for me to grasp a tray and silverware.<\/p>\n

I made the quick decision to put the stack of folders down by my feet allowing me to use both hands for the tray and utensils, and push the stack along the floor with my foot as I moved down the line. That worked right up until I got to the veggies section\u2014then the stack of folders fell over.<\/p>\n

The cord holding all the folders together began to slide off, and one by one the folders began to spill out onto the red tile floor. As I abandoned my search for just the right veggie to go with my Southern Deep Fried Chicken, and I dove down to try to save as many folders as I could from spreading out onto the dining room floor. A panicked gasp exploded from the group behind me as they saw their lives sliding around on the floor.<\/p>\n

I felt like an idiot crawling around the floor trying to corral all the folders and re-stacking them while the dinner line behind me grew ever longer and several of my fellow basic airmen left the food line to help put the stack of folders back together. Finally, a fellow whom I assumed was the shift manager for the cafeteria came over, and with his assistance we were able to get all of the folders tied back up again. By now I had no doubt the dinner line probably extended all the way out onto the sidewalk.<\/p>\n

After finishing our meal we were herded back out to the van and driven back to the Federal Building and asked to wait in the lobby for the next vehicle that would take us to the Greyhound Bus terminal.<\/p>\n

It was a little after five when we got back to the Federal Building, and according to the sergeant\u2019s previous instructions we still had about two more hours to wait before we were to depart Houston on our way to Lackland Air Force Base, in San Antonio. We\u2019d been taken back down to the large conference room and told to wait until someone came down to tell us when to go back up and out the front to re-board the van.<\/p>\n

Since I had no watch, and there didn\u2019t seem to be any kind of clock in the large room, I was forced to just sit there and wonder what time it was or try to sneak a peek whenever someone in our group wearing a watch came by on his way to the men\u2019s room. I would soon learn that this was a common occurrence in the military: hurry like crazy to one destination, only to wait there interminably for further orders before proceeding at the speed of light to the next\u2014only to wait some more. I never did get used to the \u2018hurry up and wait\u2019 part of military life.<\/p>\n

When not wondering what time it was I occupied my mind trying to imagine what my parents and my brother might be doing. Now that I had time to think I began to feel a bit uncomfortable with how the parting had gone with my parents. Even my brother seemed a bit distant that morning as I was getting ready to leave, and my mother didn\u2019t speak to me at all. At the time it hadn\u2019t really bothered me too much, as I\u2019d expected her to pout and act all hurt; besides, as the morning wore on the excitement of the day had occupied most of my attention. But now a little feeling of regret began to worm itself into my consciousness and a nasty sense of anxiety starting churning deep in my lower gut.<\/p>\n

Sitting there, I began to think about my brother and the almost truncated relationship we had always shared. Eight years of age between us made it almost impossible for us to share common feelings or emotions, but more than that everything about us was about as diametrically opposed as it could get.<\/p>\n

Physically, my complexion was lightly olive and my skin was smooth and mostly unscarred, while his was ruddy dark, tough, with a generous covering of fine black hair. Even then, at the age of ten, his upper lip was already heavily shadowed with the early beginnings of a dark moustache; and it would be another two or three years before I even thought I might have enough growth under my nose to cultivate the thinnest of one.<\/p>\n

On my head I had straight dark brown hair that usually refused to do anything but surrender to gravity regardless of how much pomade it was smeared with, while Ricky had thick, deep black, naturally wavy hair that needed no assistance whatsoever in staying wherever it was put.<\/p>\n

But it was his big-hearted and generous personality that was his strongest quality. As I\u2019d been the only child for eight long years I found it extremely difficult to share even the smallest of possessions, and sorely resented the fact that suddenly I was no longer the center of attention. While I was wary, careful, shy, and pretty much a weakling, he was loud, robust, daring, muscular, and unbelievably strong. I was careful with what belongings I had, and hated to share anything; while he was careless and clumsy, and loved to show off and lend anything he may have been lucky enough to have scored from our parents.<\/p>\n

Further, prior to Ricky\u2019s birth we were still relatively financially stable, as my dad\u2019s earnings still exceeded his predilection for binging on weekends, and I still enjoyed shopping trips downtown on Saturday with my mother\u2014often finishing off the day with a trip to the old Iris Theater for a twenty-five cent Hopalong Cassidy movie.\u00a0\u00a0 However, shortly after my brother\u2019s birth in 1950, my mother came down with recurring bouts of kidney stones, and the resulting medical expenses, added to my father\u2019s drinking, completely overwhelmed us financially, quickly bringing an end to the Saturday day trips, movies, and my nice little seersucker suits worn over white silk shirts.<\/p>\n

Sadly, Ricky\u2019s life began in abject poverty, and pretty much continued that way until he married and finally moved out on his own. As a child he never got to know what it felt like to wear nice clothes or to experience the joy of a toy-filled Christmas. Whenever she was stressed out, I would often hear my mother berating Ricky and linking the year of his birth with the beginning of our family\u2019s descent into crushing debt. \u201cWe were doing just fine,\u201d she would yell at him while shaking her left fist, \u201cuntil\u00a0you<\/strong>\u00a0came along. Now look what you did to us!\u201d True to his nature, he would just look up at her with his huge dark brown eyes, give her a loving smile, and eventually send her into a giggling fit as he chased her around the house trying to hug and kiss her. I can truly say that I can\u2019t recall ever seeing him sad or angry.<\/p>\n

For the next eight years, as I traveled the world in the service of my country, I didn\u2019t see much of my brother, but every time I returned home on leave I would be astonished to see just how solid he\u2019d grown. By the time I left the service in 1968, he was eighteen years old and was a solid six feet something; probably pushing the scales well over two hundred pounds. Always the pacifist, and to the deep disappointment of several school football coaches, he consistently turned down any offers to play linebacker, or any other position, explaining that he could never stand to hit anyone else for fear of inflicting pain and injury.<\/p>\n

Once while I was home on leave and Ricky was in the seventh grade, he came home from school, his face bruised and battered. I asked him what had happened and his response was that it was nothing and I shouldn\u2019t worry. I continued to press him on the matter until he finally opened up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d he started tentatively, \u201ca couple of guys wanted to fight me after school and I didn\u2019t want to, but they caught up with me before I got on the bus and beat me up anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat!?\u201d I exclaimed, angrily. \u201cI hope you beat them to a pulp!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said meekly, looking at the floor while rubbing his face, \u201cthey were kinda small and I didn\u2019t want to hurt them. Anyway, it\u2019s OK, I think they got it out of their system and shouldn\u2019t bother me anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was shocked. \u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018they were kinda small\u2019? It sounds to me like they ganged up on you. Are you going to report them to the principal?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNah, it ain\u2019t worth it. It\u2019s OK, they really didn\u2019t hurt me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later, I spoke to my mother about this incident and she told me it wasn\u2019t the first time this had happened. Because he refused to fight back, even the smallest bully had no trouble getting up the courage to challenge Ricky, knowing that he wouldn\u2019t fight back. She had spoken to the principal several times but she was told that Ricky had refused to identify anyone. That\u2019s just the way he was.<\/p>\n

On November 1, 1971, a phone call from his wife woke me at six in the morning. His wife, Sylvia, in full panic hysteria, tearfully said that Ricky\u2019s horribly mangled body had been found next to his completely demolished four-month-old Honda motorcycle, a full six hours after he\u2019d crashed it while driving home from work.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cAIRMEN!\u201d Sergeant Gentry\u2019s semi-soprano yell rudely jerked me out of my funk and scared me just this side of peeing in my pants. \u201cLISTEN UP! We will be leaving here shortly to go to the bus station. BUT!!\u201d He was standing there waving a sheet of paper wildly in the air. \u201cThere\u2019s been a slight change in your itinerary.\u201d (He pronounced it \u2018itinary\u2019). \u201cSo when I finish here you may want to call whoever\u2026(long pause for effect)\u2026and tell them the good news. The Greyhound bus that was taking your asses to San Antone has broke down in bum fuck Egypt somewhere. So the Air Force has decided that you will instead be taking a Continental Trailways bus to your destination!\u201d<\/p>\n

One of the boys in our group raised his hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuestion?\u201d Sergeant Gentry asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sarge, are we still leaving from the Greyhound Bus Terminal?\u201d<\/p>\n

Not ever having set foot in a basic training base, or having had the misfortune of meeting a short-tempered, frustrated serial killer drill instructor, I nevertheless instinctively knew that boy was in deep trouble.<\/p>\n

\u201cWHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME?\u201d Gentry\u2019s face turned a deep reddish purple and his eyes bulged\u2014just millimeters away from launching explosively out from their sockets. His short stubby legs took two giant steps taking him within an inch of the boy\u2019s face. \u201cDID YOU JUST ADDRESS ME AS \u2018SARGE\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sarge.\u201d The boy whispered.<\/p>\n

Still doing his frighteningly real impression of a highly pissed off puffer fish, Gentry hissed, \u201cYou fucking maggot! I am\u00a0SERGEANT<\/strong>\u00a0GENTRY to you! DO YOU HEAR ME? Not even my fucking\u00a0mother<\/strong>\u00a0calls me \u2018sarge\u2019. \u2018Cause if she did, you know what I would do to her?\u201d<\/p>\n

Even as scared as I was, I was really interested to hear this.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026N-n-n-no.\u201d The boy stammered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d get her ass out and make her run ten miles in brogans with a full combat pack, you jerk-off! Then when she got back I\u2019d make her clean her commode with a toothbrush and a little spit. And you know what? She\u2019d do it too! Even if she\u00a0is\u00a0<\/strong>seventy-five fucking years old!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cS-s-s-sorry.\u201d The boy mumbled, now looking nervously at the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, you fucking idiot\u2014did you just ask me if we were going to drop your dumb ass off at the Greyhound terminal so you could get on a\u00a0Continental Trailways bus<\/strong>? Is that the gist of your question?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2026sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gentry took a step back and began a slow decompression. He looked around at the rest of us, now looking slightly less purple. \u201cCan anyone guess where we may be going? Hmmm?\u201d<\/p>\n

Not one hand went up. But I would think that by now we all knew the answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going to dignify this fuck-off\u2019s question with a righteous answer. Now, get off your asses and start making calls. I got another roll of dimes for those of you who are fucking broke. OK, who needs one?”<\/p>\n

I reluctantly raised my hand.<\/p>\n

The first time I called home, the phone rang and rang until I decided that no one was going to answer. In the space of the next ten minutes, or so, I must\u2019ve dialed my home number two dozen times, with the same result. When everyone else had made their calls and returned to the conference room, I was still there\u2014dialing over and over.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, airman group leader!\u201d It was Sergeant Gentry. \u201cYou forgot your number?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir,\u201d I responded, \u201cno one seems to be home. Or maybe they\u2019re outside and can\u2019t hear the phone ring.\u201d I started to drop the dime down the slot and try again.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, that\u2019s enough, airman! The van is outside and we need to move out.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, all right,\u201d I said, a bit dejectedly. \u201cI don\u2019t think they were coming to see me off anyway.\u201d I retrieved the dime, picked up the stack of folders, and handed the coin back to the sergeant.<\/p>\n

\u201cPiss them off, did you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey didn\u2019t want me to join the military, so they were a little angry when I left\u2014especially my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll get over it! They all do!\u201d He said as he stuffed the dime back into the paper roll. \u201cYou watch, when you finish basic training everything will be forgiven. You know why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause when they see just how splendid you look in your Air Force uniform, and how the service did a much better job of making you a man than they ever thought they could, they\u2019ll be impressed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess.\u201d I said, glancing over at him and wondering if he had looked splendid twenty or so years ago\u2014before he got round.<\/p>\n

The short ride to the Continental Bus terminal was spent with no one saying anything, as most of us took in the view of a city I\u2019d not see again for the next five months. As we pulled up to the curb at the bus terminal, Gentry got out and instructed us to wait just inside the terminal doors. A few minutes later he returned and gave me a voucher with all of our names on it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour bus will pull into slot thirty when it arrives. After everyone gets off, your group leader will give the new driver this here voucher and you\u2019ll get on\u2026in alphabetical order! Questions?\u201d<\/p>\n

Everyone just stood around, mostly with their hands in their pockets, looking around the bus terminal with vacant disinterested stares. A couple of them just looked at the floor and shrugged their shoulders.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, group leader!\u201d Gentry said to me. \u201cThis is where I get off. From this moment on you\u2019ll be in charge until your drill instructor meets you at the training base. When you get to the bus terminal in San Antone, take the group out the front door and look for a blue Air Force bus. It\u2019ll look like a school bus. Tell the driver who you are and give him this voucher.\u201d<\/p>\n

Great!\u00a0<\/em>I thought.\u00a0Another voucher.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll drive you to the area on the base where you\u2019ll be housed\u2014and that\u2019s where you\u2019ll be handed off to the DI. Make sure you\u2019re sitting in the front of the bus so you can give him the folders. Any questions?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Very last thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

He reached into his pocket and took out two bills: a twenty and a five.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is for any type of expenses you and the group might run into on the trip. There\u2019ll be a couple of stops along the way\u2014for bathroom breaks, and so forth\u2014and this money is for drinks or snacks your group might need. Get receipts, and turn them, and any leftover money, in to the drill instructor. The receipts and the leftover money must add up to twenty-five dollars. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes sir, I think I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, because you don\u2019t want to start your Air Force career in jail for embezzlement.\u201d<\/p>\n

He playfully punched my shoulder and handed me the money. Now, in addition to worrying about the folders, the vouchers, and not being able to contact my parents, I had to worry about keeping track of loose change and receipts. This group leader gig was starting to get worrisome.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Hello Auntie, Goodbye Houston<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

A little before 7PM a sleek Continental Trailways bus, painted in southwestern hues of beige, red, and black, pulled into slot thirty\u2014its massive airbrake system hissing and sighing the behemoth to a smooth gliding stop. Above the gleaming windshield an oblong black and white sign read \u201cHouston\u201d, but soon it would be replaced with one reading \u201cSan Antonio\u201d.<\/p>\n

The large passenger exit door swung open and the uniformed driver, adjusting his cap as he descended the stairs down to the oily pavement, pulled a large key out of his jacket and headed to the side of the bus to unlock the baggage stowage compartment.<\/p>\n

A few seconds went by before the first of the thirty-something passengers began to exit the bus and head over to retrieve their luggage. A few, mostly young and mostly men, came out carrying all their belongings in small gym-type satchel bags and saw no need to queue up behind the line of mothers, babies, and senior citizens waiting patiently as the driver pulled bag after bag out onto the cement; but instead looked around curiously before setting off for some predetermined destination.<\/p>\n

A couple of guys from our group walked up behind me as I stood inside the terminal and joined me in looking out through the stenciled plate glass window waiting for our bus to be converted to a San Antonio-bound coach.<\/p>\n

As some of the passengers leaving the bus made their way into the terminal, from behind me I suddenly heard: \u201cFRANKIE!!\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, I looked over my left shoulder to see who\u2019d yelled my name, and I saw my aunt Lydia standing there, eyes wide and mouth agape.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrankie? What are you doing here?\u201d she asked as she made her way through the crowd, lugging a bulging fabric-lined suitcase.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, hi Aunt Lydia. What are\u00a0you\u00a0<\/strong>doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy goodness,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cI\u2019m just coming back from a little trip to Dallas, where I was visiting my sister-in-law for a couple of days.\u201d She put the suitcase down and the guys that were standing with me dispersed, \u201ccome over here and give me a hug. It\u2019s been so long since I\u2019ve seen you!\u201d<\/p>\n

She was a very small woman, older and thinner than my mom; she was given to wearing dapper little dark hats with a small half-veil resting on her forehead. When young, she\u2019d probably been a very beautiful woman, and even now with her smooth dark skin accentuated with bright red full \u2018Betty Boop\u2019 lips and gorgeous light-brown eyes perfectly highlighted in black eyeliner, she cast quite a figure. Along with a strong hug, she laid a smoochy kiss on my cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I know,\u201d I said to her, \u201cbut you know how my dad hates to visit relatives, and vice-versa.\u201d I stepped back and rubbed my face where I knew she\u2019d left half of her lipstick.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yes, how well I know! But\u2026are you going somewhere?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m leaving tonight on that bus,\u201d pointing at the coach from where she\u2019d just disembarked, \u201cto go to San Antonio.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy goodness! Why are you going there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve joined the Air Force, and that\u2019s where I\u2019m going for basic training!\u201d<\/p>\n

Caught a bit by surprise, her lips parted a bit and she brought her hand up to her mouth. \u201cOh, Frankie! I don\u2019t know what to say. Your mother didn\u2019t say anything to me or the other sisters.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, she didn\u2019t know until a couple of days ago. I kept it from her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell t\u00eda [aunt], I knew she\u2019d try to talk me out of it and I just didn\u2019t want to go through the hassle\u2014you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid she get mad at you when you told her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could say that.\u201d I said with a smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, but her and your dad are coming to see you off, right?\u201d As she was saying this she was looking around the terminal.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t think so. I called to tell her that I was leaving from the Greyhound bus terminal at seven o\u2019clock, and asked if she wanted to come see me off. She said she\u2019d ask my dad. But then, at the last minute our departure was changed to this one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you call her back to tell her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI tried, but there was no answer. So, even if they did try to see me off they\u2019re at Greyhound and I\u2019m here at Continental Trailways.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1Ay, pobrecito [Oh, poor you]! Well then,\u201d she looked around for a seat, \u201cI guess I\u2019ll just stay here and see you off myself!\u201d She grabbed her suitcase and dragged it next to a nearby seat. \u201cHere! Let\u2019s sit here. What time is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I picked up my stack of folders and put them next to my leg as I took the seat next to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my goodness! What are those?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re our records\u2026um\u2026each folder belongs to one of the twelve of us who\u2019re going tonight. I was made group leader so I\u2019m responsible for them until I deliver them to our drill sergeant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI always knew you would end up being some kind of leader! You were always so smart\u2026just like my Adolph Junior. You know he was in the Marines don\u2019t you? He was a corporal\u2014and I think that\u2019s a leader, right?\u201d She jutted her chin out proudly and grabbed my hand tightly.<\/p>\n

I had no idea what a corporal was, or what one did in the Marines, but I nodded in the affirmative anyway. Adolph was her youngest, and her only boy. My other two cousins, her oldest daughters, were Olivia and Yolanda. Of course I never got to know them very well since we didn\u2019t visit each other very much. All I knew was that Adolph had gotten in some kind of trouble in the military and had only served a couple of years before coming home. Since then my mom had mentioned that he was studying somewhere to be an architect. The girls, a couple of years apart, were into Mexican Norte\u00f1o music; supposedly having already cut a couple of records as a duet. Since I wasn\u2019t into that type of music then I had no idea what they were doing now.<\/p>\n

So there I sat, making small talk with my aunt while the rest of my charges did the same with their family and loved ones. At ten minutes past seven a loud scratchy metallic sound echoed through the terminal:<\/p>\n

\u201cLeaving from gate 30, Continental Trailways announces the immediate departure of its first class express service from Houston to San Antonio, Texas. Now boarding through gate 30\u2014ALL ABOARD!\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood up slowly; making sure the cord on the folders was secure.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s your suitcase, Frankie?\u201d My aunt asked as she got up, looking around.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Are you planning to come right back then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said, half chuckling, \u201cI was told that I wouldn\u2019t need to bring anything as the Air Force will be providing me with everything I need. As soon as we\u2019re issued uniforms we have to mail our clothes and shoes back home. We were told that we won\u2019t be needing civilian clothes for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she cooed thoughtfully, putting her finger to her lips, \u201cI can\u2019t remember if Adolph Junior did that or not. I think we sent him off with a full suitcase.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe the Marines are different.\u201d I speculated.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, t\u00eda, I have to get at the head of the line so I can give this voucher to the driver.\u201d I bent down to give her a little peck. As I lowered my head she wrapped both arms around my neck and pulled me down hard.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u00a1AY FRANKIE! WE\u2019RE GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH! CU\u00cdDATE [take care] MIJO. I LOVE YOU! I\u2019M SO GLAD I GOT TO SEE YOU OFF. AT LEAST YOU\u2019RE NOT ALONE!\u201d All this while she hung on to my neck and yelling almost at the top of her lungs. As I pulled away I saw a couple of dark tears rolling down her cheeks.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you t\u00eda. I love you too. Thanks for waiting to see me off.\u201d I turned and headed out the door.<\/p>\n

After getting our voucher stamped, finding a seat, and stowing the stack of folders in the overhead rack, I found a window seat on the right side of the bus and settled in. The diesel engine rumbled to life, and as we pulled away from the terminal I picked out my Aunt Lydia in the crowd, hysterically waving a white handkerchief back and forth and crying like a baby.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"