Fajitapete
My blogs
| Occupation | Retired |
|---|---|
| Location | Rosebud, Texas, United States |
| Introduction | I was born above the only drugstore in a small West Texas town on December 23, 1951—an auspicious start for a life of questionable judgment. The place smelled of rubbing alcohol and regret. Fitting. West Texas raised me windblown and half-feral. Rural “wholesome” meant more animals than people, most with stronger personalities. I kept dogs, cats, a skunk with boundary issues, a pig with socialist leanings, several spiritually aligned snakes, and a horse named Ol’ Paint—saintly patience, loan-shark eyes. Feeding livestock before dawn teaches discipline—or how to function while technically dead. Hauling buckets in the dark while something unseen breathes behind you builds character. Or neurosis. Academically, I graduated high school in the top 70%—a triumph of committed mediocrity. College improved: five semesters, a .87 GPA. The faculty and I agreed to part ways. Destiny was louder elsewhere. Then came the Marines: twenty-three years, two wars, six campaigns, thirteen operations. Getting shot at and missed clarifies a man. Incoming fire becomes aggressive punctuation; you learn to cherish the quiet between blasts. Returning to school, I found earning A’s far cheaper than absorb |
| Favorite movies | 2nd hand lions, popeye |