Jerry considered it.He understood why rewriting history and generations of tradition would have this effect on his father and other veterans of his generation, but Jerry had not emotionally invested himself in this particular argument.Like his father, he thought the initial effort and the motivations for it were steeped in inexplicable ignorance.However, on balance, he also thought most politicians were either deeply stupid, irreversibly corrupt, or both, allowing him to frame the issue from that perspective.
Jerry chuckled.“Sounds like you’re holding a grudge.”
“You got that right.Me and every other vet who ever served there, probably.And that new PT test?What a joke.Why not just sign everybody up for hot yoga?Si vis pacem, para bellum.If you want peace, prepare for war.”
While he had no intention of arguing with his father on this point, Jerry felt his dad was mistaken.The new annual Army Physical Fitness test may be many things, but it was certainly no joke.He remembered how shredded his thighs had felt after his last test.He would much rather sign up for hot yoga.
“I hadn’t planned on getting out any time soon,” Jerry said.
His father prompted, “So you looking to go warrant?You’re a little long in the tooth for the team these days, Sergeant First Class.”
Jerry shook his head.“I’m promotable.Move up to Zulu.No reason I shouldn’t.Our team has had an overstrength slot for a while now, and Wade Chandler is getting close to either getting E-9 or calling it done.”
An 18Z is the Senior Sergeant on the team, typically a Master Sergeant of pay grade E-8.Jerry, as a Sergeant First Class, held the pay grade of E-7.“If that doesn’t work out for some reason, then I’ll go warrant.My plan is to go warrant after I get done with the Zulu slot.”
His father said, “Then when you burn that bridge, you’ll finally accept a commission?You’ll be like a real mustang.”
“Sir.Doing everything I can to avoid ending up as a commissioned officer, sir.No offense, Colonel sir.”
His father shook his head, and his eyes suddenly stared into the past.“I understand completely.You’re a team dog, through and through.The politics alone would make you want to choke some dummy out on a daily basis.Your mother, however, would not have approved.”
Jerry felt himself tense up.“Yeah.She made that abundantly clear.”
The kitchen door burst open, and Mabel rushed in wearing a pink coat and a pink hat with a pom-pom on top of it.The crisp bite of winter air clung to her coat, laced with the faint, earthy tang of hay and feathers from the henhouse.She carried a basket filled with eggs.Leo immediately stood and took the basket from her, while she removed her coat and hat.“Seventeen eggs!Even though it’s cold.”She walked over to Jerry and put her arm over his shoulders, crossing her feet at her ankles, standing like a street tough kid on a light post.“My girls are happy girls.”
Jerry’s grin stretched across his face.“Seventeen!It’s eight degrees outside.That’s great.How many customers do you have now?”
Mabel shrugged her shoulders in a fluid motion.“Daddy knows.”She looked at their father.“Daddy, give him his present now?”
“Not yet.Your day’s not done yet.”He pointed to a whiteboard with a chart.The columns had the day of the week and intersecting rows labeled with pictures.Jerry understood the tasks of feeding the hens, watering them, collecting eggs, and placing the eggs in cartons.
Mabel reached into the left pocket of her coat and pulled out a wooden bead, then made a mark next to the picture for feeding the chickens.Once she made her mark, she put the bead in a little box under the chart and pulled another bead out of her pocket, repeating the process.Once she emptied her pocket, their dad said, “What’s next?”
Mabel tapped the picture of the cartons.
“I know what’s next.”She capped the marker and took the eggs into the utility room.She looked at Jerry and beckoned him with her hand.“Come on.You can help me.I’ll teach you how.”
He got up and followed her.In the utility room, he saw her workstation, the pictures on the wall, and the calendar hanging above the workbench.She carefully filled the cartons, matching the sizes of eggs, then closed them.Jerry noted she had twenty-four eggs, not seventeen.She pointed at the calendar.“Twenty-seven.”
He assumed she meant the date.“Yes.Twenty-seven.”
In her child’s handwriting, Mabel wrote the date on the egg cartons.Then she stacked them next to several other cartons and crossed out the date on the calendar.“Now presents!”She took Jerry’s hand and led him back into the kitchen.“Now presents,” she repeated to their dad.
He smiled and nodded.She rushed out of the room.
Jerry reclaimed his coffee mug.“You’re very good with her.”
“Your mom was better.”Leo shrugged.The grief in his voice from years back had vanished, but the loss still echoed there.“There was a learning curve.I was gone a whole lot when you two were little.After your mom passed, I suddenly had this amazing daughter and truly no idea what to do.But your mom had perfectly written everything down for me in a notebook.I can follow simple directions.”
“I miss her too, Dad.God knows, it’s hard to even be here without her.”
His dad sharply cleared his throat.“I know, son.But life has to go on, right?Tempus vivendi et tempus moriendi.There’s a time to live and there’s a time to die.Much to our grief and dismay, your mother’s time to die came too soon.It’s hardest on your sister.”
Almost before he realized it, Jerry said, “I met someone.”
“That right?Met someone like casual, or met someone like you’re making plans?”
Was he making plans?In his heart, he felt like he ought to start making plans, but he could hardly be that serious just five weeks in.“Just a few dates.Spent Thanksgiving with her family.Had breakfast at her place yesterday morning before I flew here.”
