What You See

One of the forms of torture the US Navy inflicted on recruits was a series of swimming tests. So, of course, you'd expect the Navy to want minimum floatation abilities, right? The final test, you could not graduate from Basic Training without passing it, was a challenging one for me.


When I was about ten, the owner of the building where my father was Super gifted me with a slightly obsolete but complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica, he'd replaced this older set with a brand new one for his children. So the Britannica soon was set up on shelves in a small basement room called my "laboratory." I conducted mayhem, anatomical dissections on a chicken, and the like there. 


With some trepidation, I enlisted in the US Navy in late December. Even after I got on the train to Great Lakes Naval Training Station, I was worried that some FBI type would come marching down the train aisle, pull me off, and tell everyone that I was unworthy to be a seaman recruit.

It’s something you’ll recognize

I was always told that an anthropologist needs to be a good listener. So we note what is said, gather it together with other bits, observe, participate and then analyze. Eventually, you write a dissertation and then go into teaching or applied anthropology.

Well spent

Funny, isn't it how you remember where you were at certain times. You recollect right down to the greasy calf D-ringed engineer boots on your feet, going clump, clump, clump on the stage. You can recall in great detail the set list taped to the top of the guitar and how you wished they'd killed all but the single spot you'd requested.


I'll keep this story PG, but there she stood, all five foot two of blonde beauty asking, "Wes, how does this look on me?"

Ice on the hill

Well, maybe early winter. Or possibly just before Christmas. It's hard to keep track of events when you're doing so much weed.

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