It\u2019s a cool morning and I\u2019m sitting in my home office, a breeze is coming through the open balcony door. I am drinking strong coffee and have just eaten a bologna sandwich with mustard. B\u011bla the cat is asleep on my lap and Django Reinhardt is playing with unfair, three-fingered grandeur. I am reading about World War II.<\/p>\n
All is right in my world.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
One of the marvelous aspects of doing graduate work is that if you\u2019re determined, you can link your studies to anything. I am reminded of my essays on Heart of Darkness and the Spaghetti Western, and Canada\u2019s Arctic sovereignty and Crown Royal Whiskey. My research this summer is based on linking the rise of Dairy Queen to the outbreak of World War II.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m reading Paul Fussell\u2019s book The Boy\u2019s Crusade, which focuses on the European theater in World War II and it is disturbing. A combat veteran of WWII, Fussell purposefully steers clear of any glorious sentiments attached to the war and depicts terrifying, often first-hand, accounts of horror.<\/p>\n
It never stops amazing me that these were ordinary people who fought in the war; just everyday people. So, without trying, I implant my friends into these roles. It\u2019s my friend Lee spilling out of a Higgins boat onto a terrible beach, PJ crouching into the almost certain death of a ball turret and Collin storming across a field under mortar fire.<\/p>\n
These things are difficult to imagine. While my friends and I have various talents and good qualities, aptitude in the face of adversity is surely not among them.<\/p>\n
You see, PJ has an intestinal-condition that requires him to be within 100 feet of a toilet at all times. He\u2019d probably get a medical disability discharge. Lee smokes 3-5 packs of cigarettes a day; he would be a breathing smoke signal for an enemy. Collin has a cranium the size of an Easter Island resident, while useful to hide behind, the pure size of it would at best weigh him down and at worst be an unmissable target.<\/p>\n
And me, well, my sense of direction is lacking, to say the least. I have gotten lost in a supermarket, a three house Irish village and my own kitchen.<\/p>\n
We never would have won anything.<\/p>\n
A few minutes after embarking into my hypothetical enlistments, a wasp flies into the room sending me and B\u011bla into a flurry of panic, fur and coffee. The cat\u2019s claws engage in a sharp and unfortunate manner with a treasured part of my anatomy, which retracts as I retreat from the office. B\u011bla battles the wasp and I hide in the bathroom, screeching and smacking invisible wasps all over my body.<\/p>\n
She wins.<\/p>\n
For this victory, I reward her with a piece of bologna and her choice of TV show this evening.<\/p>\n
Yep, we wouldn\u2019t win anything. But send my cat.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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