It was the summer of '72 when the Vietnam Veterans and families gathered to hug, cry, eat some down home cooking and be with like kind.
Nobody was going to be cursed, spit on, or have have vile words shouted at them.
Not on this day, not on this property, it was not going to happen.
Some needs cannot be met by big government, other needs take too long with red tape, so like kind did for like kind, just the way some folks were raised, and extends past the normal definition of being neighborly.
The dawgs had snuck some hot dawgs and the kids were chasing the dawgs and then a mom was chasing a kid and a daddy, a husband, a Vet shed a tear.
"Oh hell! Where is Air Cav when you need the boys?" he said.
Folks laughed, it was...was beautiful seeing this happen, as too many had seen hell and similar scenes over in SEA were not happy scenes.
"Well, if they make it to the pond, holler, us Navy boys are a helluva lot better swimmers than them Air Cav drivers!"
"Well if the damn Marines get called, in, I guess us National Guard Boys will have clean up the mess - again".
So the razzing between Service Branches had started again, and the wives got into the mix and , it was good.
Private Backers had put up the money, and some serious fun was gonna happen that day.
Oh a tribute was done for the fallen that arrived home in a body bag, sincere appreciation was given to those that had served and returned, whether they came back whole, or left a part of themselves in a hellhole.
Some boys were racing wheelchairs, popping wheelies and all when the dust was seen down the way.
The Harley was in the lead so he would not have to eat the dust of the truck that followed.
Harley rolled up with that distinct sound , and he was wearing a Flak Jacket and pot helmet when he did.
"Ya'll can laugh if you want, but about dark thirty when them mosquitoes come out, ya'll be wishing you had some gear too!"
A bottle of Jim Beam was tossed to the fella with Flak Jacket, he took a pull and tossed it back.
"Breakfast of Champions right there indeed!"
Young lanky fella was outside his truck, hair in a ponytail, wearing Ray Ban Aviators.
He was surrounded by dawgs, all waiting for a peppermint to be tossed to them.
Then he just took the rest of the bag and tossed it hard out yonder, and the dawgs all took off to get more peppermint.
Young-Un! You spoiling my dawg again? someone hollered out
"Hell yeah!" - said the fella as he fixed a bandana around his head, slipped his straw cowboy hat back on.
As he took his long strides over to folks, kids run up, he squatted down, and got hugs from gals and firm handshakes from the young men.
"Ya'll ain't being good are you?" he asked
"No!"
"Good, we kids are supposed to act up, ya know?"
Heads shook, grins, laughter, as he approached others.
He got down to hug those in wheelchairs, hugged other guys, and some firm one handed hand clasps.
The ladies come over and some more hugs, and tears were shed.
The backers were standing there, grinning, and shook hands with Young-Un.
"You are early" one of the backers said.
"Be early, or late, never on time, as being punctual will get you killed" - Young-Un said.
Just a unwritten code, as to how Young-Un and his kind went about some things...
Young-Un stepped inside the house, and grinned.
"Well old boy, what did you learn from them Snicker Boys?" - he said to a fella washing his hands in the sink.
"They sure do get pissed when you takes their money!".
"Yes sir, they do indeed!" - replied Young-Un.
"Don't call me sir ..."
"Oh hell , how raised- what you do sir"
"Young-un, listen we all appreici.."
The boy raised his hand he did not want to hear what the old boy was gonna say.
They looked at one another, grinned, then with an arm each other walked back out to where others were waiting.
"Well I found 'em" Young Un said, "He was taking a piss in the sink, but he was raised a Southern Boy and knows to set aside the dishes in the sink 'fore he does".
Folks cracked up, it was good to laugh, and cut up, and be human again.
The old grinned as he looked at Young-un and called him a dirty name...
The old boy went on out to where others Young-Un called Mentors & Elders were gathered.
On folding chairs were cigar boxes, and a cold RC , the old boy removed the cigar box, his RC so he could sit and then asked "what the hell is this?"
"Read the note in the cigar box" replied a lady who snickered when she replied.
"I gotcha a whole RC, cold one too, and just hold this here box, and pay attention and learn will ya?"
"Oh hell! What damn fool taught the boy!" - the old man asked with a grin.
"WE all did! - said Mentors & Elders shaking heads , grinning, some laughed.
Young-Uns buddy, Dave was standing on the porch with his daughter.
He handed Young-Un a Zippo Lighter, with dings, scratches gotten in 'Nam.
Young-Un fired up the Zippo, and placed it on a metal shelf, specially built on the porch , then placed a glass globe over it.
That Zippo burning was Young-Uns idea, a tribute, and folks were watching when he did it.
Folks were quiet, except for some quiet sobs, nose blowing and the sound of Vets coming to full attention and salute.
Young-Un grabbed Dave's daughter's little hand, Dave had his arm around his shoulder and they strolled on out to the skeet field.
Two other shooters were waiting on the field, one handed Young-Un his shotgun, he never broke stride, and got near station 1, the high house was tossed, the the low house.
He tossed two more shells into his shotgun, and the pair was tossed.
He turned, grinned, and said :
Run'em!!
Mentors repeated Run'em, then the crowd repeated Run'em and Dave stepped up , then the other two shooters.
All birds tossed were turned to dust.
Dave's daughter was watching with waiting eyes, and when head nod was given, she pushed the button on the stereo and a Rock-n-Roll song come on.
The backers were paying so much for every bird busted, for every straight shot, and some special clays of different colors that meant $100, $250, $500 and one worth $1,000.
Money for how long the shooters shot.
Young-Un kept shooting, some in the first squad would eventually step out, only to have another take their shooting spot.
"I couldn't sit still and watch the Cigar Box, my RC is all gone, and the dawgs sent me to bother you as they are tired of me" - the old boy said.
"Young-Un watched the old boy step up, and like poetry in motion felled bird after bird"
Lady Mentor got up to shoot, turned to others and-
"The boy can't dance, but he does a mean Snuggle&Shuffle"
Young-Un turned around after shooting, looked at this lady and "darlin' flash me a little ankle, some thigh would be good, some cleavage would be even better!"
"You messing with my wife boy?"
A chuckling voice said.
"Hell yeah, when I am done, I"ll send her back home". Young-Un said.
Folks were cracking up, Clergy was shaking heads, some nuns were joking how they ain't enough beads on a rosary ...
The birds flew, the birds dusted, and the big cigar box kept getting money added to it.
$100, $250 and the $500 bird had been tossed and dusted, the $1000 bird had not.
The sun was setting and then the first mosquito bite was felt.
"We got Skeeters in the wire!!"
And while the trap machines were being filled again , that fella with the pot helmet and flak jacket jumped on his Harley with Jim Beam on the back and "yeah, see, I told ya'll I was ready!" as he and some others put on the most ridiculues show of riding and shooting bug dope in the air.
It was funny, and had the shooters cracking up.
Traps were filled, the lights were on and the sun set...there was a gust of wind, from somewhere, and the $1000 bird had been tossed.
The wind was fast and pushing down hard and Young-Un was on it, he was leaning so far forward, when he slapped trigger, he fell on down.
When the bird come out, folks gasped, hands went to face, and time stood still then the $1000 bird dusted, and the property erupted with Run'em!
The nest morning, folks gathered again.
The field was full of hulls and the kids were all at the porch, ready.
Backers said, for ever hull they got, there would be a nickel.
Littler kids had help from adults, but it was like a heard of locust that hit that field, and it was clean in short order.
Then the bidness part, and kids got the money.
This money was for them and they wanted a kids sized shooting range.
A special kid range would be built...
The kids left with .22 single shot rifles donated, and ammo, and eyes and ears and whatever else in them kits.
Adults, had needs taken care of too...
When it was time to leave Young-Un reached up and got that Zippo that had been lit, and set under the glass.
He handed it to Dave, who pocketed that lighter he carried in 'Nam.
Young'Un was the last one out, his job to close the gate.
He turned and fired 3 shots at a old tree, that meant something, then shut the gate.
It was never about Young-Un, it was about others.
How raised - what you do.
Run'em!
