“Thrice Dead” Taka 732


Thrice dead – once ‘fore one;

twice at three; and, thrice in ‘Nam:

The dumb stuff counts not!

 

All since, golden gravy grits:

Pat o’ Butter would be nice!*

 

  • (Actually ‘most true: when still just months old, Navy Doctors at both Patuxent River and Bethesda Naval Hospitals said to mom-n-dad – take him home, keep him comfortable and wait.  We do not know why he can not keep any food down.  Until then I was a beachball, round and gurgglingly fat.  Then an old Flight Surgeon asked mom: Where you From.  The Bronx, she replied.  Good, he said. Take him there and get your family’s best doctor to recommend someone for babies.  They did. Found a just-before Nazi’s started killing them guys wearing skullcaps doctor who came from the Lederle(sp? you know, the Bayer people) from Germany who said they had been experimenting with this new idea in B vitamins and maybe some of them might help.  Help.  I have spent the last 67 – near 68 now – years trying desperately to get back some of that babyfat.  The second time was between 2 and 3 when I walked into a freak wave at the DelMarva Peninsula in lower Maryland and came out blue.  A good whack on the back and I puked Chesapeake but for some reason still hold forth for some good salty oysters, clams and blue crabs, of which Florida has but a fair few too; time three I have already written – suffice to say the telegrams I found slipped in between the screen door and the other one which in my experience never had been locked since we moved there in 1956 saying I had been either captured or killed and they didn’t know which but would try to find the ‘rents as soon as they became available (off visiting family in Colorado and since I had called by radio-telephone after I was reported KIA or MIA or possible POW – never did like Alpah-bits soup called cereal before or since they felt no compunction to check…that is until they came back before New Years to find middle son swathed in half-headed bandages, leaking light blood from the left earhole, gurgglingly burping by beer asleep on his old bed with the new tenants ensconced on his chest: mama Skeeter Cat Siamese and her new kitties. Thrice is enuff!)

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