Sunday, November 2, 2008

Talk to people when you travel...the stories are worth the effort

So I'm in the gym at the Roosevelt. Not a bad joint. I'm lifting a little, sweating a lot, and just burning much needed steam. I notice this guy next to me - come on, I need to aspire just like the rest of you. He looks about 1o years older than me, has a tight high cut, and is built like a strong safety. Sorry, a USC strong safety - thick necked, big thighs, forearms like Ed Dougherty (good luck figuring that one out). He drops down and does some push-ups. Me too. He does some dips. Me too. He does some lunges. Guess what? Me too! I notice his faded tatoo on his upper right shoulder. Interesting. Looks military-ish.
He drops down again and does another set of 100. Good set.
So I ask him, "Are you military?" At his point I explain to him that my dad is a retired Navy Captain and I'm just interested.
His eyes light up. From what I know, earning a "Grade 6" is a big deal. Nice job dad.
He goes on to tell me he is a Navy Raven. Huh. Not a Seal. Not enlisted. Not an officer. A Navy Raven. He says go look it up online. Ok. I know something about that.
He then tells me what Navy Ravens do. I start to get goosebumps. Pride. Start thinking the world is a better place, a safer place because of this guy and his peers. 
Check them out online. Let's just say this guy in a bar fight would take care of Patrick Swayze'scharacter in RoadHouse. Badass 1oo%. Says after we screwed up Iraq (yes we did), he felt his work was not done. He needed to help US more. More goosebumps.
So, my thoughts tonight are with our brother. The unnamed guy I met tonight. Who next week is going to return to active Navy Raven duty. And hopefully, when shit hits the fan, god is looking out for him. 'cause he is one of the good guys. 
Good bless. Goodspeed. Time to end the madness. Come home safe brother. Come home.

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