When my Grandfather passed away in April,
I was down there with him,
Making dinner for the two of us,
We'd watch jeopardy and the news,
While eating a Drumstick ice cream.
Whilst driving him to the doctors or shuffleboard league,
He'd tell me tales of when he was in the military,
And all the various hijinks him and his lifelong friend P.E. would get into.
He also had some last minute advice when he elected to be moved into hospice.

It was just a little over two years since my Grandmother passed,
When Grandpa decided to go to the next great adventure

He had some words that he was very sure couldn't wait.
I talked with him for hours that night,
Until he finally nodded off.
My sister and mother arrived the next morning,
And I left on a flight back to Ohio by noon.
We talked that morning,
For what he knew would be the last time.
He thought it would be best for me to head back up to Ohio.
He didn't want me to see him get any weaker.
He told me to live my life with as few regrets as possible, and that he loved me.

That was always a big thing for him.
He always said he couldn't ever remember his father ever telling him he loved him,
And that he tried to tell his kids and grandkids how much he loved them.
He would always be aware of what sports season was currently happening for his grandchildren,
And what their placing was.

He would get into these fits of laughter when he was trying to explain to something finny,
Where he couldn't even get any words out,
He'd be giggling too hard.

He was one of those people that when he was born,
God went and broke the mould.

Of the things I inherited, one of them was a typewriter.
Oddly enough,
It was about as technically advanced as he got,
Besides using the computer to play solitaire.
I remember when we'd go and visit in the summers,
On weeklong trips,
And I'd spend as much time as I could on that typewriter.
I'd start out with elaborate visions of a great novel or screenplay,
But by week's end they'd be short stories that were of ok quality for whatever age I'd be at the time.
What I never thought about is what happened to them when my family would  go back to Ohio,
I never thought my Grandpa would ever read them,
Let alone keep them.
So imagine my surprise when I come across a box labeled stories.

I miss you Grandpa

When I was little,
Behind the backyard of my childhood home,
Separated by a field and a couple of rows of trees,
There was a factory,
Not a big one, just a small one,
That liked to operate at night.
The window of my old bedroom faced out  towards the backyard,
And by extension,
The factory.

I use to lie awake at night,
After I crept over to my window and pushed it as open as it would go,
I'd just listen to the sounds of the factory,
And imagine it were different things,

When I was 6 I'd imagine it was some sort of 100 foot tall beast of mystery,
Maybe walking on 6 legs, each 75 feet long,
Lumbering nearby like a gentle giant,
When I was 10,
It was a spaceship,
Destined to take me to a galaxy far, far away,
When I was 13,
It was a crowd cheering me on as I scored a touchdown.

It was relaxing,
It was southing,
Familiar and safe.

But one day the banging and muffled crashes of steel stopped,
Apparently the city finally cited the factory for noise violations,
And all heavy operations were to be halted by 8 pm.

I suddenly no longer had my monster behind the house,
No spaceship to take me to a galaxy far, far away,
No crowd cheering my name.

From here on out I'd have to go exploring to find monsters,
I'd have to build a spaceship if I wanted to go far, far away,
I'd have to put in the work so people would cheer out my name.

6 poems today,
Wanted to see what I could come up with,
Are they rough...yes,
Are some of them short and to the point... Also yes,
But the emotion still rings true.
3% battery...
2% left...
1%...
Goodnight

Gravity must be especially heavy on my exact spot,
For I feel like I'm glued to my seat,
I found a record,
Ridiculously pristine,
It's of some symphonic orchestra,
And it's made my eyes water a bit.

I don't know what prompted it,
I just felt my face after listening to it to realize that my eyes were quite damp.

The piano piece was heartbreaking,
Clearly an excellent conductor,
I can't find any real labels on it,
And it appears to be very old.

10%... Not long to go

The bugs have overwhelmed my deet defence,
So I've retreated behind the screen door,
Smoking by the doorway, leaning back in a chair,
Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, and Christine McVie are haunting me with their words,
To never break the chain...
My eyes feel like there's grit in them,
I drink a glass of water to rehydrate a bit,
To counteract the cigarette's sting,
Of 2 packs smoked when I should have only smoked one.
I feel like a record player, and my table belt is just slightly off kilter,
Making me so my rounds just a little too fast,
Just fast enough to be noticeable and an annoyance.
13% battery left,
How many more can I do?

Sitting out here in the porch,
Listening to Tool,
My phone is fast dying,
Probably best that I allow it,
It's good for it long term,
To every once in a while just let it run
Completely out if juice.

Is that true for humans too?

When asked what ruck marches are like,
And I'm talking about those legendary light infantry ruck marches,
This is how I explain it:

Take your bedroom,
And try to shove it all into a military issue ruck sack,
Feeling impossible yet?
If so, you are on the right track.
If not, keep adding things to said rucksack until it does feel impossible.

You take a certain kind of baby powder and apply it to your neck, feet, groin, basically anywhere that's going to chafe (i.e. your entire body by the end)
Wrap your heels up, but not too much, because it's going to have to come off anyway,
after your heels start to bleed.

Put on your 2nd best pair of socks on,
Your best pair is for when you need a morale boost.

Put on your body armor,
But for the love of God don't use your inner elastic stap,
You won't be able to breath.

MAKE SURE YOU HYDRATE!!!
nuff said

Ensure you have all your kit and put it on the scale

...

98 pounds.
So add in body armor and your weapon, as well as ammunition and a carton of smokes,
You're looking at a cool 130 lbs (59 Kg),
More so if your a machine gunner, ammo bearer, or anti-armor specialists,
Which I usually was,
So I'd say add an extra 20 pounds (9 Kg)  to be safe.

Now you're all strapped up,
Your kit isn't slipping,
And nothing is pinching,
Take that unwieldy, difficult to disengage from silhouette,
And go on a 20 mile foot movement,
With expectation that you are going to get ambushed.

That's what a ruck is like.