Pete and Repete.

Yes, dammit, I know it ain’t spelled like that. Bill Gates tells me so by the GD (gosh darn) automatic red underlined thingy. Point is, I repeat myself. (Haha, spelled it right, except now he underlines haha. Bastard. Jk. I know I’ve told the story just below at some point in the three-plus years I’ve sat my fatass infronta the computer.. It just kinda-sorta bears rePeting. Oops.

Fitteen or so years ago, my then seven year old son asked me how Davy Crockett died. “Well son, I believe he died fighting at the Alamo.” (Ain’t been to the Alamo since they built the River Walk.. Wanna.. If mebbe you wanna, call me, we’ll go. 867-5309.. I was amazed though that the Alamo is right smack downtown. Hard to envision the days of Davy.

“NO HE DIDN’T” replied Maynard. ‘HE DIDN’T DIE AT THE ALAMO.”.. So, begrudgingly (didn’t wanna break his heart) we rented the movie. And at the very end, as literally hundreds of members of the Mexican Army surrounded the thirty or so remaining Texas Revolutionary forces - the credits rolled - Davy was still standing, wielding his rifle knocking off one after another - he eventual demise a certainty. “SEE, I TOLD YOU HE DIDN’T DIE!” Victor, that was too longa sentence. KMA, I write here, not u. Critique away, but I’m kinda a rebel when it comes to words, sentences, length, spelling. This ain’t school. There ain’t no “right” way here. Ya hear?

Point being, the “never-give-up’ed-ness’ of life. Davy hadn’t given up. Maynard hadn’t given up. Sure there are times we give in - but we must never give up. (For the 12,942nd time, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. Ie, I ain’t trying to be Billy Graham here. Justa pickmeupper.)

Article today in the dreaded front/main section of the KC Star. Pics and stories of mutilated military members - now back home, making it in their new ever-changed life. Missing limbs, facial deformities. All were smiling. Some were rolling on the ground with their children. Pack it in, give up, hide, run, you’re different, you’ll never make it. No. They weren’t doing that. They were experiencing “the new person” they were, with great assistance from their old self, friends, loving family, they’re beginning anew - with perhaps even more never-give-up’ed-ness than before. Cool. Way cool.

Buddy’a mine. Mebbe ten years younger. Thru some not so great decisions, has already been thru four marriages. “I’ve given up on women Vic.” Uh huh, sure. “No, I’m serious. I’ve decided that miserable without is better than miserable with, done, finito, ne’er more.” Uh huh, sure.

Very nice IM conversation with same buddy last night. He, the 25 word per minute typist (it’s a male thing) was “going 60” telling me about his new love. “Perfect. I’ve never known a woman any more than I know this one. It’s been life-changing. Vic, I can’t believe this is happening. I wake up, there’s a bounce to my step, a reason to continue.” Uh huh, told ya. (Didn’t say that, felt it.) Outwardly he’d given up. She snuck into his life, opened his heart back up with her key. Cool. Way cool.

Every time I worry. Every time that roller coaster forges low. Every time there’s more bills than bank. Every time I retire alone (eh, Jackson is there wit’ me, reckon not 100% alone, but you know.) I thinka Davy. Now I will thinka the vets. Of my buddy. Of hope. Of not-giving-up’ed-ness. Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, or, am suddenly surrounded by 10,000 Mexican troops, I ain’t givin’ up. I might portray low occasionally here, can’t help it, I be human. But deep inside, I’ll never give up. Hopes u don’t either. One trait that helps keep me a goin. Hopin’ u possess it as well.

Bears rePeting eh? God Bless the day, love, Victurd