So, OK, I’ve spent seventy-six years bee-bopping all over this planet and that includes a couple of combat tours in a war I didn’t really want to go to. Nevertheless, after a few decades of quite heavy drinking I managed to straighten myself out a few years back. Ah, life, what a conundrum it is.
Does any of this matter nowadays? Not a hill of beans, and I know this better than anyone. Not one single thing I have done in my entire life breaches the borders of this soured old brain of mine. No statues of me. No portraits hanging in hallowed halls, no “coat of arms,” and, certainly, no mention of me in any history book or on “YouTube.” Who cares? I certainly don’t. Why? Because I am still relatively healthy though a couple of nagging injuries from war still plague me to this day.
What I have been successful in is keeping my family together after all my nonsense mentioned above. Better than ever now that I am conscious. To beat all, my stuff isn’t half as bad as many of you have had it in life. I rate my misery on a scale of one to one thousand around twenty. I went through it and then got the hell over it without dragging my sorry tail, or anyone else’s for that matter, through any more slop. I grin a lot now and it is most likely an addled, half-witted grin but a grin nonetheless. I recommend grinning for no reason. It keeps those who don’t know you at bey and relaxes those who do know you that you aren’t about to go postal again. Try it from old Doc Odd.
My secret is an old Martin D-28 guitar that I bought a few months before I got out of the service. 1971 vintage and mellow as a walk through the Redwoods.
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