Kenneth Shunatona:  

de Duck Pond. Sometimes I'd take a friend, but mostly it was just us two, And it wasn't like a movie or skating, but still it was a fun thing to do. We always took them something to eat, Old bread maybe, but popcorn was hard to beat. My Dad would make it in a skillet on the stove, And then lightly salted in a brown paper bag it would go. I remember back then it seemed like a long drive, But after awhile we would finally arrive. With our bag of popcorn on a beautiful day, We'd get out of the car and my Dad would say, "Feed them out of your hand, don't run away." But I was usually scared and as they crowded round, The closer they got, soon I'd throw the popcorn to the ground. I'm sure my Dad would laugh with glee, And I didn't care it was still fun for me. We fed all the ducks, well we tried to feed them all. There were some awfully big ones and some that were very small. Gee, seemed like the popcorn sure went fast, But of course we liked popcorn too, That's why it didn't last. Well, it's been a long time since I fed a duck with my Dad, But, a beautiful memory was made and I'm not sad. I'll always remember the time we shared, And my wonderful Daddy who really cared. I'm forty-one years old and my Dad's eighty-one. The little girl is all grown up and the ducks are all gone. Today there's miles between us and it's hard to correspond, But, always in my memory, we're together at... THE DUCK POND Workplace My first job was working as a busboy at Flight Lanes Bowling Alley in Wichita, Kansas...then I dropped out of high school for four months and drove my grandfather all around the country and helped put on school assemblies, I worked for my high school acting teacher's parents for a couple of summers...painting and maintaining some of their properties...was a lot man at Sauder/Lygrisse...common laborer for Reese Construction (helping build I-35 to Newton)...tended bar...was a factory worker at Coleman...after the service...was a factory worker at Cessna, sold work shoes and boots, worked construction in Wichita, and Oklahoma, worked as a master electrican's assistant, a sander in an industrial display shop in NYC, drove a straight refrigerated truck all through Texas...selling frozen meat out of it (flipped it on Telephone Rd by the airport in Houston)...managed a bar back in Wichita, managed a work shoe and boot store, sold fur coats, cars, copiers, digital duplicators, houses, MCI long distant commercial services, temporary services, local and long distant moving services, and detailed cars at a South Broadway used car lot. The longest job I had was selling copiers, I enjoyed working for Office Systems prior to being purchased by Danka out of Tampa, Florida. I was fired for not lying. Since being fired...life has been much better. I've heard that Danka has pulled their branch from my area. Sounds like I think I'm better than most people...I'm not. I've made many ethical errors or sins...probably more than most. Here's a poem that might help someone. "You are struggling... I see it, I feel it, I hurt for you. But I must tell you, I believe with all my heart That you will emerge Somehow wiser, stronger, And more aware. Hold on to that thought, Tuck it away in a Corner of your heart Until the hurt melts enough For the learning to have Meaning." Kierkegaard: "It is as though on were to say to someone in love, yes, but you might have fallen in love with another girl; to which he would have to answer: there is no answer to that, for I only know that SHE is my love. The moment a lover can answer that objection he is not a lover." Military I was drafted at 19. I went to Vietnam as a Combat Medic,where I was with Bravo Company in the field. My girlfriend gave me a "Dear John". Had a hell of a time in Bangkok on R&R...I suppose it helped. I remember giving aid to a captured North Vietnamese woman who had been shot in the stomach with an M-16 round during an ambush. I didn't think she was going to make it through the night. She was moaning real loud. The C.O. thought she'd give away our location to the N.V.A..so I gagged her. I had already given her too much morphine. "Pineapple" helped me rig a makeshift I.V. stand out of blown pieces of tree and I pumped her full of blood expanders...although bloated...she made it. (A number of former medics say they would have "red lined" her). Because of the incident, I earned the respect of the rest of the platoon and the Company Commander. I have to give the two young N.V.A. soldiers their due. They kept chucking back our frags from their hole...knowing they were going to die (A "kit carson" scout told them what was going to happen)...we killed them with a concussion grenade. Their last words were obscenities aimed at us and our mothers. The incident reminded me of city workers concerned with a sewer problem. When pulling them out...the top of one of their heads (scalp) came off and hit me in the chest...covering me with brain matter. Two weeks before I DROSed, I was a REMF with the 88's and 105's that were on the ridge line surrounding Da Nang. I held daily sick call: handing out malaria pills and taking care of "baby sans" for old mama san... I kept them clean and gave them tetracycline. Real tough duty. Vietnam took what was left of my innocence. Combat was like being in a bad car wreck...except in retrospect it seemed like it happened in slow motion (Like a Peckinpah film)...it was the opposite...extremely fast. I just know that I was scared the whole time. I will never forget Dick Seglem...killed September 24, 1970...just under three months in country. I wept when I heard. Dick and I went to Curtis Junior High and Southeast together and were drafted in the first Lottery of 1970...had a great time helping each other during Basic...(Dick taught me the concept of G.I. gin) he was mellow to the extreme. He cut me much slack. After Vietnam I didn't cry for many years...for anything or anyone. The night firebase Mary Ann was overrun seemed like a whole year in itself. Here's a poem that might help someone... "You are struggling... I see it, I feel it, I hurt for you. But I must tell you, I believe with all my heart That you will emerge Somehow wiser, stronger, And more aware. Hold on to that thought, Tuck it away in a Corner of your heart Until the hurt melts enough For the learning to have Meaning." Kierkegaard: "It is as though one were to say to someone in love, yes, but you might have fallen in love with another girl; to which he would have to answer to that, for I only know that SHE is my love. The moment a lover can answer that objection he is not a lover." P.S. If anyone that was with the 1/46th...196th...can remember what the special mission that we worked out of the Da Nang Air Force base right after we moved up from Chu Lai...was called???(We CA'ed out at first light and came back at nightfall.) It was a wild mission...kinda like clocking in, in the morning and clocking out at night. S.S.S.ed and went and heard the dink bands and got drunk at the E.M. club. We were air mobile for that mission only. We got a bunch of K.I.A.s, P.O.W.s and caches. If anyone remembers what the Battalion Surgeon's name...he had red hair and freckles.... Please email me if you remember and let me know. Thanks. my address is kshunatonaatcoxdotnet