Blog

YourHub.com \\ Arvada \\ Blogs \\ Life \\ My Life \\ Journal Entries

Blog Entry 71 of 81 Baseball,football,the Grateful Dead,Jesus and me

Could be politics, religion, music, sports, family life or anything in-between and outside the lines. (I refuse to say "outside the box," even if my chosen line means exactly the same thing) Chronologically, I'm 40. The consensus among those who know me best puts me somewhere between 10 and 13 in terms of maturity. I love listening to Jimmy Buffett, the Grateful Dead, the Allman Brothers and all acts Country (except the Dixie Chicks who offended my long-held,closed-minded view of decent behavior) I have deep, strong beliefs in all things I believe in and sometimes in things I don't. I pride myself in my contradictory nature even though it is a sign of weakness to change one's mind. I have been known to waver more than John Kerry talking about national defense, though I remain steadfast in my beliefs. I am prepared to argue to the death on one issue and one issue alone; Dickey Betts should be allowed back in the Allman Brothers. On this, there is no compromise. I believe in compromise in all other areas so long as the compromise includes everything that I want or believe in. In all seriousness, I am a lucky man, blessed with a wonderful family and an uncanny ability to not care about anything if the situation requires such. I believe that minds are like parachutes in that they have been known to fail their user, albeit with a slightly lower fatality rate. So that's me, or at least that's kind of me. I mean, I felt that way right before I didn't.

Blog Url: http://denver.yourhub.com/~billsblog

Entries:

'Chicken's Kid' grows up

e-mail to a friend | print this | link to this

NEXT › ‹ PREVIOUS

Contributed by: Bill Prather on 3/18/2008

Sleep.

Who needs it?

Not this kid. Sleep is for sissies. Or maybe sleep is for people with nothing better to do. Don't get me wrong. I like sleeping as much (probably more) than the next guy. It's just that I don't really have time for it now. Every minute that I spend sleeping, is one less minute I have with my wife and kids.

For instance, I started this entry with one hand. I typed with my right hand, while I cradled my daughter, Malia, in my left. It's just past midnight, and Malia has fallen asleep for the fourth time. I'm sitting by the baby monitor, typing this, hoping that she won't wake again.

Actually, if she wakes, that's okay. In fact, it's better than okay. Come Friday, I'll be thousands of miles away, longing to hold her. If it costs me a couple of minutes of sleep tonight, I'm cool. The next time I see my precious baby, she'll be walking and she'll probably be a little afraid of me, at first.

So you see, that's where "Chicken's Kid" has grown-up. "Chicken" is my father. He was a Navy corpsman in World War Two. When he trained with the Marines, they took to calling him "Chicken." It was a term of endearment. Marines tease sailors, but those leathernecks look out for their corpsmen.

I guess it's Dad's service that draws me to serve today. Of course Dad wanted me to have no part of the military. Conversely, it was Dad who was most proud when I graduated basic training. Twice. Come to think of it, Dad was the only one who was there when I graduated both Navy and Army basic training. The "old man" gets it.

I've spent most of my life hoping to be half the man that my dad, "Chicken," is. I still haven't made it. But I like to think I'm on the way.

I curse at the dogs, like Dad. Then, when no one's looking, I give them treats and play with them like they're long-lost friends.

I complain about broken things in the house, knowing full-well that I could fix them. But you see, a busted door knob just isn't worth my time. Not when those fifteen minutes could be better spent "playing army" with Marty.

The overgrown hedges out front? Sure, they could look nice. But they'll look just fine fifteen years from now. That's when I'll get to trimming them. Right now, I'm spending time with Delaney, playing "restaurant." I order stuff, she tells me "we don't have that," and I keep ordering stuff until I get to something they "have." I never "get" what I ordered. But I leave a big tip, nonetheless.

I play "tough disciplinarian" with the kids one minute. The next, I'm playing video games with Marty, dismissing the silly questions. "Dad, are you sure it's okay? You said I couldn't play Playstation until I'm 25."

I curse like a sailor. Then I tell Delaney that "dummy" isn't a nice word.

But when it's all said and done, I love my family enough to put myself in harm's way ... in the hope that they'll never have to do the same.

Too much like my old man. (Not complaining. Bragging, really)

My oldest son is hoping to start a career in the military soon. I'm hoping like hell he doesn't. Sounds like someone I know.

In a few weeks' time, I'll be in Iraq. I tell my son that it isn't his fight. I mean it. A father hoping for something better for his children.

I'll miss them. I'll miss them terribly. Hopefully, if we get it right this time, they'll never feel that pain in the pit of their stomach. If you don't know it (lucky you!), it's a sharp, stabbing hurt that gnaws at you ... aching more and more each day . . . digging a little deeper each time you hear your wife cry because "things are just crazy today," or maybe when your daughter tells you, "Thanks for coming home tonight, Daddy." No child should feel priveledged because her Daddy came home. That's how it's supposed to be.

It comes down to the fact that there isn't some secret formula. What makes one person happy isn't neccessarily right for someone else. I don't run around fixing "things." In fact. I don't really give a damn about most "things." Like my father, I'm okay if "things" take a back seat to "us." It's a play on a cliche', but no one ever lay on their deathbed and thought, "Darn. If only I'd fixed that squeaky door."

Squeak on, door. I have bigger fish to fry.

Tomorrow that door might squeak ... but tonight my daughter served me some mighty-fine, "We don't have that!"

Damn. If I could do it all again ... hell ... I'd probably do it just the same. That's the way I was brought up. Thank God and thank Dad.

As much as I've tried to avoid it, I guess "Chicken's Kid" is growing up.

Here's to you, Dad. We sure could use a few more "Chickens" like you. "Chicken," my ... buttocks! If only I had half your courage.

This one's for my wife, my children ... and "Chicken."

The only real heroes I've ever known.

< Previous: 'Destination: Baghdad, ...' | Next: 'Trying to get to Baghdad' >

[Report this as objectionable content.]

SUBMIT COMMENT

Rate the above blog

Current Rating

Based on 10 user ratings.

Talk Back : submit comments to the blog

*Note: you need to log-in to add a comment or rating.

Thank you! Your comment has been updated.

< BACK | NEXT >

Showing 1-10 of 11 comments

Submitted By: William Boucher

posted on 3/31/2008 @ 11:07:42 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Swnd me your e-mail address so we an keep in touch. And thank you. Much love.

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Michael Rule

posted on 3/22/2008 @ 6:13:09 AM

Rated Blog Entry

Can we call you Little Chicken?

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Jamie VanEaton

posted on 3/21/2008 @ 11:00:59 AM

Rated Blog Entry

God Bless you, Bill. Please let us know your address in Iraq so we can send you stuff.

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Sarah Paige

posted on 3/20/2008 @ 12:30:47 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Bill, stay safe and know we are thinking and praying for all of you. Thank you!

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Nikki Britain

posted on 3/20/2008 @ 7:10:00 AM

Rated Blog Entry

Blog when you can. Stay safe. Come home. Know that you and your family are in my thoughts. Thank you for doing what I cannot. xoxox

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Bill Prather

posted on 3/19/2008 @ 10:20:36 PM

(Not Rated)

Thanks, all. Gene, if I get there before you -- though it wouldn't mean the same-- I'll toss a wreath for you. We all owe your grandfather's generation a great debt.

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Gail Kirkegaard

posted on 3/19/2008 @ 8:38:54 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Can't wait for your reports!

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Karin Malchow

posted on 3/18/2008 @ 4:04:14 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Your family is great, Bill. I'm still chuckling thinking of Marty not being bothered a bit about the consequences of forgetting his belt. I think that indicates he knows the important part is being with his family, too.

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Gene Boshell

posted on 3/18/2008 @ 1:11:47 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Bill ... I "get it" too. My grandfater went to WWII to "finish things up so my boys won't have to." One day I hope to throw a wreath into the Rhine for him. My dad was a Vietman era Gunner's Mate in the Navy. I was in the Army '91 to '95. I know why you're doing it. Like I said ... I get it. Godspeed.

[Report as objectionable]

Submitted By: Tom Treloar

posted on 3/18/2008 @ 7:42:27 AM

Rated Blog Entry

Wish you a safe tour and a safe return home.

[Report as objectionable]

Showing 1-10 of 11 comments

< BACK | NEXT >

CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Bill Prather

Arvada , CO

Bill Prather has posted 81 blog entries and 320 comments since joining on 7/15/2006. Bill Prather 's average blog rating is 4.48.

view profile » view other postings from Bill Prather »

SAVE AND SHARE THIS BLOG ENTRY

digg	Google
del.icio.us	Yahoo!
reddit	Newsvine

What is this?

BLOG ENTRY RSS FEEDS

All blog entries

All blog entries in Arvada

All blog entries by Bill Prather

BLOG LIST

WANT TO WRITE FOR YOURHUB.COM?

Want to see the stories you write and the photos you shoot featured in the YourHub.com Thursday print section available all over the Front Range and with home subscriptions of the Rocky Mountain News and The Denver Post? All you have to do is register, then post a story or column, start a blog or tell everyonewhat events are happening in town. We will print the best stories, columns, event listings, photos and blog entries in our print sections.

Loading Ad