By Andy Weddington
Sunday, 29 October 2017
A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood. Horace
Last night in the hopping Farley's Bar & Grill, that anchors the northwest corner of Lincoln and Main in quaint Lindsborg, Kansas, a gent came up to me and used the preface "Sergeant" introducing himself.
Marine - in uniform 1978-1982.
Already seated with his family when my wife and I were ushered to an adjacent table, "Mike" had spotted the tiny Marine Corps emblem centered on my Cabela's felt crusher, and said he always makes it a point to stop and say hello to a brother Marine.
We spoke but a few minutes. But it was enough. He was an avionics tech and still uses his Marine Corps training in his career. Parting, with a genuine tone, he said, "Semper Fi." As did I.
Overhearing, a couple at a table behind us spoke proudly of their son - second year at the Naval Academy. His father said, "He knows he does not want to be on destroyers and is thinking he wants to be a Marine."
I said, "Small club. Tough admission."
And then the gent, sporting a Navy ball cap, made comment about why he did not serve during the Vietnam War.
I managed a smile; a tinge wry, maybe. At least he didn't claim to be a Marine.
After settling our bill, a post-meal walk along deserted Main Street, both sides, for 45 minutes - occasionally stopping to peer in storefront windows. No surprise the Halloween decor.
We called it a night.
On email this morning was DoD Release about an Army Chief Warrant Officer killed in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan Friday past.
A little prayer for his family delivered awful news.
On morning (fake) news who else but Hillary Clinton. There was clip of her speaking to a dopey crowd of supporters still in rebellious denial. Stoking the anti-Trump sentiment, she urged them to keep resisting, to keep fighting.
So much for graciously accepting election results.
That nonsense, and her crimes against country, preoccupied thoughts over a simple country breakfast and coffee.
While walking mostly deserted Main Street, again.
Driving backroads through Kansas (and Nebraska) we saw a sign for President Eisenhower's Library and boyhood home (making note for a future trip) and passed through small towns and smaller communities - flags aplenty; sacred memorials to veterans.
These the patriots who ensured Hillary not elected President.
We owe them.
Her speech nagging.
Her conduct while holding high office (and afterward) more than nagging.
What would President (General) Eisenhower think?
President Trump came to mind.
His pledge "drain the swamp" played like a skipping vinyl.
President Trump's words and Hillary Clinton's mug.
After miles and miles of rolling countryside through America's heartland, a conclusion but not necessarily a revelation ...
President Trump cannot "drain the swamp" until two actions first completed.
1. Destroy family Clinton. Law and order must take proper and full course. See to it.
2. "Unmask" Barack Obama. America deserves to know, exactly, this man. See to it.
Simply: So long blood flows their skin leeches cling thus thrives the swamp.
The rest falls into place. Or drains.
Taps soon - and though Main Street walks and byway jaunts refreshing for thought - it's nice to be home.
As pledged, President Trump - "Drain the swamp."
Drain the damn swamp!