Routine

  He washed away the excess shaving cream, rubbing his fingers together under the weak stream of hot water. His father had tried to teach him, of course.

  "You only need a little bit," he'd said. "It goes a long way."

  It'd been foam back then; not the expensive, moisturizing, sensitive skin care, cocoa butter-infused gel he slathered on now.

  This stuff was supposed to help his complexion, or so the writing on the side of the can promised. In truth, it only served to remind him of what William Shakespeare writes in Henry V: "The elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of beauty, can do no more, spoil upon my face."

  At 44, he'd been shaving for 25 years.

  "More than that," he sighed. "Closer to 30."

  In all the days of his eclectic, though admittedly incomplete, education, he'd somehow missed learning about Newton's law regarding the dynamics of gel expansion, of that he was sure.

  He still used too much. Well, if he hadn't figured it out by now…

  He looked in the mirror as the remains of the glycerin goop slipped down the drain. The blue eyes looked the same – his vision the only part of him, it seemed, not yet compromised by age. The face itself had changed; the skin looser; he had a wrinkle or three, and a couple old scars.

  Raising his glance, he again read the two quotes he'd long ago taped at the top of the glass – one a Latin phrase, the other he'd read in a Tom Clancy book.

  "Memento mori;" Remember you will die. He'd intended it as a motivational tool; to make him write by reminding him his time on this planet is limited.

  Each morning, it made him feel guilty when he thought about how little he'd accomplished the day before. And, too frequently, it elicited an empty promise to do more today.

  He noticed the slowly increasing number of gray hairs on the sides of his head…and the quickly decreasing number of hairs on top of it.

  Shades of gray, he thought.

  "Today you can be a man of honor; or you can not," the second quote read.

  It wasn't that easy, he knew. When he was young, everything had been simple. To a kid it's all black and white; good and bad. You're either G.I. Joe or Cobra; cowboy or Indian.

  But, a man's world is full of grays – colors that had to be dealt with, and consequences to be endured. Decisions often had to be made without the luxury of experience or knowledge. Best possible choices made in a moment, and years of memories lived with.

  Is this what it means to be a man? he thought, making the first pass with his razor. To struggle forward, while always dwelling on the mistakes of the past; trying to accept things that can't be changed.

The American Family Association is Unpatriotic and Ungrateful

Arlington National Cemetery (photo from Army.mil)

I rarely comment on the things I post on What Are You Really Afraid Of? (http://whatareyoureallyafraidof.tumblr.com/) The stories and pictures I choose usually illustrate the bigotry, intolerance, and ignorance of the "anti-gay rights" movement better than my words can.

Today, however, I must sound off.

The American Family Association (AFA) is angry that gay soldiers might be buried in the "hallowed ground" of Arlington National Cemetery.
(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/02/13/american-family-association-gay-couples-buried-arlington-national-cemetery_n_2678325.html)

 

First, I find it sad that the leaders and members of the AFA have nothing better to do with their lives than trying to deny honor to people who fought and died for their country; to people who fought and died for the AFA's right to even exist and espouse their ridiculous beliefs!

 

Second, I find it funny that the AFA doesn't realize there are already gay people buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Our country's fallen heroes have been buried at Arlington since the Civil War. Gay people have been around since the beginning of time!

 

Does anyone truly believe none of the gay people who have served in our military were killed and buried with honor at Arlington?

 

Now, I challenge the AFA to look at the rows of headstones lining the rolling hills of that cemetery, and tell me which of the fallen were gay! And, then, tell me why it matters?

 

In addition, I challenge them to look at those who visit the graves and tell me what their relationship to the fallen is? Is it a father, a mother, a brother, sister, husband, wife, son, daughter, best friend, lover, comrade?

 

Is the sacrifice made by a gay soldier somehow less than that of a "straight" soldier? Is the pain and loss felt by those left behind any less for a same-sex mate?

 

I served in the U.S. Army. In Basic Combat Training, by the simple logic of the Army, the man in the bunk next to mine was my "Battle Buddy." He and I became fast friends. We endured the physical and mental tests of BCT together. After training, I went to Panama, and he went to South Korea.

 

Years later, after we'd both left the Army, we found each other on Facebook. That's when I found out he is gay. You know what? It doesn't matter. I don't care that he's gay. It doesn't make a bit of difference to me. He remains my friend and battle buddy.

 

How does who a person loves affect the honor they receive for serving their country? For giving -- in the words of Abraham Lincoln -- "the last full measure of devotion" to the United States.

 

The AFA is not only bigoted, intolerant, and ignorant, but also unpatriotic and ungrateful for the sacrifice made to protect their freedom.