The Blog Of TrollMongo: Hero's In Uniform..?? Really..??

Friday, July 6, 2012

Hero's In Uniform..?? Really..??

While it seems popular nowadays to call everyone in uniform a hero, especially police, firemen and the military they certainly DO NOT have the most dangerous jobs. In fact, the military didn’t even make it into the top 20 and firemen in most polls didn’t make the top 15. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics' most recent figures, there were 4,547 fatal occupational injuries in 2010, or four fewer than reported in 2009. The majority of these injuries occur in a handful of sectors representing the most dangerous ways to earn a living in the country. The list might surprise some, and admittedly the rankings vary slightly according to whose statistics you want to believe. The most common and most current ranking is as follows.

#1…Fishing
#2...Logging Workers
#3…Airline Pilots
#4…Farmers or Ranchers
#5…Mining
#6…Roofers
#7…Garbage Collectors
#8…Truck Drivers
#9…Stuntmen
#10..Police

Add the fact that the police have the 3rd highest average annual salary of the above list (behind Pilots and Stuntmen who actually need some qualifications for their jobs) and you might start wondering why anyone would call a cop a hero.

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It's Raining Tonight

This story has come about because of the persistence of my dreams. They pursue me, goad me until I can bear no more and am compelled to put my experiences to words.
The years may have dulled some of the memories, but others are so vivid that the sights and sounds will live in my mind forever. The sound of my own breathing and heartbeat as an enemy patrol passes within feet on either side of me. The whispered words of a dieing old woman, spoken in a language I could not understand, that will bind me to her forever, and the stink, the incredible stink of the jungle. It lives in my pores to this day, no amount of soap or scrubbing can wash it away. On a rainy night as I lay in bed, somewhere between sleep and being awake I smell the jungle. I am there again and the rain runs down my face, washing away the tears and I pray, dear God please let this end, please let them kill me. I am not afraid to die, I will embrace it. I fear for what I may become, for insanity lurks near. It peaks at me and grins but I fight on, and I survive and wonder why.

The Opening Page Of A Short Story I've Been Trying To Write For The Past 40 Years.

A REMEMBRANCE

One thing I will always remember about my trips to the Philippines is what should have been just an obscure moment.
Eve and I were in a taxi going somewhere, and the cab was stopped at a red light. There was a young girl with a baby going down the line of cars begging for money. She looked little more than sixteen. Both she and the baby were dirty, but the baby looked well fed, while the girl looked very thin. I remember the look in the girl’s eyes, she was terrified. She came to our cab, and Eve motioned her away, but at the last moment I decided to give her something. I looked in my wallet and the smallest local money I had was a 1000 PHP bill, roughly $20.00 USD, and then I had some American one dollar bills. The traffic was starting to move, and there was no time to decide….I handed her a One Dollar bill. She thanked me in English, the fear in her eyes maybe not so intense for a brief moment. I know that one US dollar would probably feed her and the baby for a couple days, but I have ever since regretted not giving her the 1000 PHP bill. It would have made no difference at all to me; it would have made a world of difference to her. I have thought of that girl and baby often. I wonder what became of them, if they ever were able to get off the street. The Philippines and every other poor country are full of people like her. Many are good, honest people but there is no help for them. I like to think they made it off the street somehow, but I know there is little hope they did.

From My First Trip To The Philippines.

The Last Time

There is a last time for everything I guess. I remember the last time I flew an airplane, felt the wheels lift from the ground and become airborne…never again will I experience that, and that thought makes me sad.
I am getting old; my last times are drawing near. The last time I drive a car…something I been doing since I was 5 years old, something I have always loved. The last time to be told by someone that they love you…the last time to tell someone that, the last time to feel your hand holding the hand of someone you love.
I fear those all will soon be last times for me. I feel my life is about over, I am just waiting for that last breath, the last beat of my heart, the last pain I must live with.

HIGH FLIGHT

I have slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long delirious, burning blue, I've topped the wind swept heights with easy grace where never lark, or even eagle flew -And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod the high untresspassed sanctity of space, put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee No 412 squadron, RCAF..Killed 11 December 1941

Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right.
Because their words had forked no lightning they.
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight.
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way.
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight.
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height.
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Blog Of TrollMongo

Friday, July 6, 2012

Hero's In Uniform..?? Really..??

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Don't We Wish It Were That Easy

A Pair Of Sand Hill Cranes Getting Part Of My Lunch

It's Raining Tonight

Flag Of The Philippines

A REMEMBRANCE

Flasher

The Last Time

The Kitty After A Good Supper....He Came To Us As A Stray And Never Left

My Blog List

HIGH FLIGHT

Jessica Rabbit

Life's Journey

The Flag Of Mexico...Often Times I Feel Mexico Is Where My Heart Is.

Dylan Thomas - Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Bitch Stole My Fish