
It
was a quiet afternoon on the Voices Campus. We had just put our latest Issue of
Voices ‘to bed.’ We had answered
all the recent inquires we get for advice from the Sewanee Review, Kenyon
Review, and a few others. As it was the last day of the week we decided to
spend the rest of the afternoon at one of the outside tables of one of our
favorite places for convalescence on Mission Street.
This
always an interesting place for the passersby going or coming back from the
nearby train station, a good place to people watch. And to ‘car watch’ also as
the traffic has to stop and wait for the arriving and departing trains. One
such group of vehicles included a noisy truck. This was the kind we once referred
to as a pickup truck, but now was much larger again by half, at least,
with four doors, large exhaust pipes that went up the back of the cab, and
which was stacked up on oversized wheels and tires. There were steps by the
door to get on down out of the truck. The only this this truck
ever ‘picks up’ are six packs a convenience stores.
As
the truck waited, the engine raging at the slow moving train, we noted that it
is painted in a camouflage pattern, like the military vehicles wear to hide in
the forest from enemies in war. About the same time and occasionally before and
after a passerby would walk by wearing a ‘camo’ top or bottom. We have several
staff members who served in the military years ago during the time of
compulsory military service. A time when
all the boys in the neighborhood served, except for the few who went to college
or got married right out of high school.
One
staff mentioned people who were never in the military wearing military-type
clothing, and that got a conversation started. The staff who had served back in
those days told of how the guys would go into the different services and go off
to all parts of the world, Europe, and Asia, and on the seas. After they returned,
they were quickly back in their civilian clothes and telling each other tales
of their adventures while away. The dress uniforms likely went into the back of
a closet to be forgotten and the ‘fatigues,’ few were camo, were stripped of
their unit and name patches and became clothes other family members wore when
painting, changing the oil or working under the car, or digging up the lawn.
Any
of the freshly former servicemen would be subject to ridicule by the others if
he wore any part of his former uniform. Anyway, that was just about the last
thing any wanted to do. And this led to some Beer Garden Sociology about why
the camo now? We concluded that after part of a generation had passed after
compulsory military service had ended some people, not the ones who went into
the voluntary services, but others developed some fantasy life of military
daring do. We thought this started by them finding discarded military clothing
in junk stores. Then clothing manufacturers picked up on the demand.
We
‘Sociologists’ further noted that this happened at the same time that the young
male population, or a large part of it, it is hard not to be unkind, seems to
be more flaccid, passive, overweight, or very overweight. They seemed to have
experienced very little physical activity. Now if some ride bikes now the
peddling is assisted by batteries. Other exercise is being seated poking at an
electric screen. We will be at a loss if ever… .
END