Staring At The Stars

Charles, Tommy and me, the three of us decided to get an apartment together while in college. Tommy knew Charles from high school, they graduated in the same class and though I knew Charles I didn’t really know him. Tommy well, that was another thing entirely. He was my best friend, my brother from other parents. I was two years ahead of both of them and had spent those two years off and on in college occasionally going to class.

The place we found to live in was in the southern part of Tahlequah just off of highway 62. There was a small cluster of one story apartments, two to a building, all around each other and we got one with a standard three month lease. On the other side of us were these girls from Tri-Sigma sorority whom I passively tried to impress by playing my music loud and by laying on the hood of Tommy’s car at night where I would stare at the stars. I was young and dumb, what do you expect?

The question to ask though is did it work? Did I impress them? Since they never spoke to me or even acknowledged my existence I would say no. Overall the Tri-Sigs were known to be a bit stuck up so perhaps it wasn’t totally an indication of my lack of importance on the social scale. Yeah, I can’t even keep a straight face as I type that bull. I wasn’t anybody that mattered in their world. I was just a nothing occasionally seen but never heard.

My personality consisted of being a nervous bundle of insecurity with a bad self-image and very low self-esteem. A single “Hi” from one of them would have made my year.  A smile accompanying that “Hi” would have had me walking on heights I’d never known. They didn’t owe me anything of course and that is exactly what they gave. After all these years I cannot recall any of their names but I’m sure I knew who they were then.

But those nights spent on the hood of Tommy’s car, now they were worth remembering. Staring at the stars made me realize how small and insignificant we all were in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t just me feeling the way I did. Somewhere else another person could be having the same thoughts, doubts and dreams as me. Those stars and the night sky made anything seem possible. Childhood sci-fi dreams lived on in my vivid imagination as I stared upward. The future was infinite. Maybe there was somebody out there that would actually like me for me. I’m talking of the female persuasion here.

What wasn’t infinite however was our time in that apartment. Before the three month lease was up Charles deserted Tommy and me. He found a better deal I guess. Tommy and I ended up moving into a two bedroom cabin with our friends Gary and Chris in a speed trap little speck of a town west of Tahlequah named Hulbert. It turned out to be a better deal for us too. No rent or utilities and only a minor infestation of field mice. And when I say minor I’m understating it on a grand level but it was okay considering everything else.

That part of Tahlequah we lived in is very different today. The city expanded and grew and that little area disappeared, consumed by the ever growing hunger of big business and the expanding economy of a college town. Where we spent those three short months no longer exists except in my memories. I wonder if anybody else who lived there remembers that place. Even if it is just an occasional thought every few years or so, it still counts.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

Time To Admit Who I Am

Okay I'll finally admit it. I am a veteran. There, I said it. It's not that I have been trying to hide the information or am ashamed of my service or anything like that. Quite the contrary, I am proud to have served almost eight full years in the United States Army including the Gulf War. I just don't see a need to advertise it. I've heard people call all service members, especially those who have gone to a war, heroes and I don't agree with that view at all. I was just a guy doing a job. That's as simple as it gets. I never saw combat and never was tested to see if my training would kick in or not. My specialty was personnel records which I ended up knowing quite well.

There was no altruistic thought behind joining nor no patriotic state of mind. Indeed, I simply joined the Army for a job. Tired of living a life that seemed to be going nowhere and not desiring to return to college where I was racking up debt after two and a half years (all without knowing what I wanted to major in) I instead chose to join up and perhaps see a bit of the world if I was lucky. My service first led me to a two year tour of Germany, then on to Ft Hood, Tx and the 1st Cavalry Division which in turn then sent me to Saudi Arabia. After we came back I re-upped for another hitch and went to Washington D.C. to be stationed at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Along the way I had some experiences and met a lot of people, most of whom I've forgotten their names. That's what pictures are for I guess.





I learned a great deal about myself and started my baby steps of getting over my lifelong insecurities which seems to have rapidly accelerated in the last year. Still, there were some hard times mixed in there as well but if I'm being honest even though they sucked they've helped to make me who I am today. When I left the military I never tried to get any benefits nor draw upon what I had done to get anything extra for myself. As a matter of fact it wasn't until this last year before I even went to a local restaurant to get a reduced meal on veteran's day even though by all rights I deserve it. Once in seventeen years. Part of the problem with me was that I always lessened what I had done and been through.

Sure I had served over six months in the Gulf War but not in combat. I wasn't on the front lines but in the rear-division. The only Iraqi's I saw were two prisoners of war at a hospital where I was getting an xray for injuring my ankle in a basketball game. This was after the war was over. I never had to shoot anybody military or civilian, never threw a grenade into a building and never ever saw a scud missile. I was forced to march over to a medical tent and take shots of unknown origin which are not mentioned in my medical records. I did undergo a lot of uncertainty and fear about what could happen if one little thing went wrong on our front lines. There were difficult times spent in crowded tents under bad weather and adverse conditions. Then again, nobody forced me to sign my name on the contract. I just did my job and ended up with a chest full of medals for it.


So while I don't have any combat horror stories I do have stories to tell. You really learn about people (and yourself) when you are forced to live with them in cramped quarters and difficult conditions. Perhaps it's now time to start putting those lessons to good use. As I have stated even though I didn't see combat, even though I wasn't supposed to have my weapon loaded in guard duty (but I did) and even though I didn't shoot to kill (or at all) I can proudly say that I am a veteran. I served my country to the best of my ability and I suffered for some of it.  I just don't see the point going around trying to let everyone know what I've been through and done. After all, I know and I'm the one it matters to the most.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

Yearbook Day Was The Worst Time Of The Year

A few days ago as I had finished my shower and was drying off (I know it's a scary thought) and I started thinking about how one of the worst times for me back when I was in high school was at the end of the year when the yearbooks came out. Now I don't recall how I got to that unusual point because normally I'll just have a thought that reminds me of something and that leads to a similar thought and the next thing you know I'm miles away from where I started out and I'm thinking about something bizarre. Like on this day.

The day that Yearbooks (or rather Annuals in some places) were given out was quite stressful to me. Frankly put I was horrified about the thought of going around the school asking a load of people that didn't really know or like me to sign my book. Then there was the unlikely scenario that people would ask me to do likewise. I've mentioned on this blog before that I had absolutely zero self confidence in myself and really believed that there was nothing about me for people to like. I was too different, too far from "normal" for the vast majority of my classmates to understand. Plus, I had moved around and attended three different schools in a year and a half's time so that made it especially hard for me to have had a chance to make friends or even acquaintances.

I considered myself extremely lucky to have one good friend, one or two somewhat friends and then perhaps a few other people who knew me by name. That was a best case scenario. So there I would be, sweating over who I would ask to sign my yearbook. It was easier to know who I wouldn't ask. Anybody popular or a high level athlete or a cheerleader was out. They weren't even in consideration because the thought of one of them deigning to sign my yearbook was ludicrous. Then there were the students who weren't quite at that level, who hung around the popular kids in the hopes that they might be thought of as cool by association. Out. The students who thought I was in a different grade? Out. Foreign exchange students? Maybe, if they didn't have a full grasp on the English language although usually they did.

For the most part that left the usual suspects of the losers, geeks, nerds and other forgotten loners that just didn't fit in. Unfortunately it didn't include the sluts although years later you normally found out that they really were more chaste than any other girl in school. Damn those high schools boys and their rumors! Well, from that group I would choose the the ones that didn't terrify or frighten me too much and chance a request for their autographs. I was happy if I got signatures on the front and back pages. I thought that at least that way it would look better years later to anyone going through my yearbooks. They might actually think that I was somewhat well known and popular.

Now those yearbooks sit in a box at the bottom of a closet and are rarely brought out and looked at and I could care less who did or did not sign them. They're just a reminder of days long gone past that time has shown weren't really all that important at all. My "permanent record" didn't follow me nor did 99% of those that purported to like or dislike me. That's the way it is for almost everyone I'm sure, we were just too young and stupid to realize it.

Published by Don Leach