Even though I was barely in SF long enough for a cup of coffee, I
have had
31 years to Monday morning quarterback my brief stint.
Because everything
boils down to a few hours in the early morning of June
20, 1969, that is the
only thing that I can actually reflect upon. The wounds
made me totally
disabled, and everything that has happened in my life
since that morning had
to be worked around my disabilities.
So, I guess a better way to state the question is:
Am I happy with my life?
You damned right I am! I wish you all could experience
just a fraction of
the joy I live every day. Hopefully you do, and better
still, I hope you are
every bit as happy with your life as I am with mine,
maybe even more so.
Life's been good so far. I could spend the rest of
my days recounting all of
the joys I have known, but my regrets are few and far
between.
I regret marrying plaintiff, and I regret not maintaining
commo with my old
team mates. Other than that, it is just the little
fuck-ups that we all do
from time to time, but they don't mean a thing in the
grand scheme of
things.
Some of you that are not disabled may think that being
totally disabled is a
tough cross to bare. Not true! Once you learn to live
your life around
whatever limitations your disabilities bring about,
you have it beat. In a
sense, you are no longer disabled. I do not dwell on
what might have been.
As for doing something differently the night I got
wounded, perhaps being
even a half of an inch to one side or the other may
have cost me my life, so
who am I to complain? Perhaps my life right now is
the best it could have
possibly been under any circumstances. I know I can't
imagine it any better
than this.
Nothing I have said is to excuse my country from breaking
their promises to
me and all the other vets. I would still do it again,
knowing my nation
didn't care. I care, and that's what's important. I
kept up my end of the
bargain, even if they didn't.
Robert Pryor, happy as a pig in shit...<