At the back of the hill

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Friday, March 10, 2017


In hindsight I am surprised that I am still alive. When I was barely out of my teens I visited war-zones on vacation, which, if you think about it, was not quite a sensible thing to do. But as a typical young man I thought that life was endless; surely I would live forever?

It has been a while since I took such risks.

Probably a good thing.

I was always in awe of my father, who before he was even twenty was flying bombers in the good fight. Three years of that. A few years later he went to sea on tankers, with the earnings of which he paid his passage through college and an aeronautical engineering degree.
People of that generation lived more alive.

As he grew older he became a very civilized person.
Well read, informed, calm, and detail oriented.
There was good reason to admire him.

I am fairly sure that in some respects I do not measure up.

I could have done far better with myself.
But the result is somewhat passable.
I've matured along the way.
I regret very little.

Sambuangan, Basilan, Jolo.

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