In this place
chopping so much your hand cramps,
so you have to hold it by the wok
for five minutes before it unclenches,
is something to by proud of.

In this place
college students scoop and cook
to pay for school,
or pay off school,
instead of applying what they learned,
which cost them more than money.

In this place
the line never sleeps,
you are Pavlov's dogs
trained to a bell.
And if you are unlucky enough
to be put in the kitchen,
you'll find it worse than Hell.

Full of mercy and compassion
Abundant grace and blessing
Justice and peace are never out of fashion
Focus on what we can do and stop stressing
Rest easy and be quiet as we go about living
The Lord rejoices in cheerful giving
Giving some of our time or money or skill
We use what we have been given for good will
The humble and the broken are graced
The lonely and oppressed are lifted
Those who mourn will have a taste
Of hope and joy and all will be gifted
We are to be light for a world that is blind
We are to be love in a world often unkind
We are to be warmth in a world now cold
We are to be courageous when so few are bold
We are to be strength to lift up the weak
We are to be gentle in a world that is not meek
We are to be pure in heart for a world that is broken
We are to be the truth that must be spoken
Be a blessing for others and a blessing for the Most High
Help others, do your best, and always try
Allowing God to bless what little we bring
We find that this can be a wonderful thing
Whatever you did for the least ones
Whatever you did for my daughters or sons
You did for me says the Lord God of Hosts
Help us be humble and honest lest we should boast
You gave us everything we could ever need
You are like good water to our seed
You gave us all we could want and ask
You will aid us in all of our tasks
Be with us Lord when we are burdened and  worn
Keep us safe through the night and wake us in the morn
Let your love go before us strengthen us while we pray
Let us bring your kingdom here this very day
There are so many who suffer in spirit and in physical pain
Give us the grace to bring them back and there, remain
Bring me to your heart and help me love with all I am
Take my hands and use them for your healing
Remind me why I do good with this wonderful feeling
To praise you with all that is in me
Bless and glorify so everyone can see
This is what I hope to do
And serve your people the best that I can
Let me not be prideful in me but rest in you
Continue to refine me in your perfect plan

The extension of me, Its held like a woman.
Gentle always, never relinquished to another.
Never taken for granted, Its never used its
an extension of me.

Never seeing the other as a heart beat,
but a means to an end for me to go home.
I never looked in their eyes,
             Its them
                  or me, I choose me every time.

They took their choosing, I ended there breath
with a moment, one stood, one feel beneath tears
of steel. I'm only human, survival is collective
on everyone's thoughts, yours are silent though.

I'm not an enemy, just a voice of another point of view.
Unluckily you choose the a side that collected your
body after I'd left this place. I never think of you,
but I remember ever body faceless crying in my nightmares

"23: July 24"
"24: October 5"
"25: February 19"
"26: December 14"
  
The words went right to the pit of my stomach.
All doubt was gone.
I'd graduate/be drafted in June.
By September
I'd be in Vietnam.
  
My high school gym teacher had been an Army sergeant.
He stepped on our stomachs as we did sit-ups,
"toughening us up".
I've had a problem with authority
(unsuited, temperamentally,
to obeying unconditionally).
I'd be a poor soldier in the best of wars.
  
But if a job required some independence/ingenuity --
a pilot or a spy, say --
and if the cause was right
(World War II, for instance),
I could fight as well as another guy.
  
I don't like fighting,
but I'm not so naive as to think it's never a necessity.
There's always someone who, given the chance,
will take our possessions and make us their slaves.
So who should decide
if a particular war is justified?
This seemed to be my own responsibility.
  
Vietnam? I decided it wasn't.
Weren't we protecting a democracy?
No. Thieu lacked popular support.
Wouldn't Thailand and India fall?
No. The domino theory was questionable at best.
Weren't our national interests at stake?
No, not really.
I'd decided I shouldn't fight;
They'd decided to make me fight.

The physical was set for March.
Unless I failed,
I'd go to Vietnam,
go to jail for seven years,
or go to Canada for the rest of my life.
  
In studying Army regulations,
I found a fascinating chart.
It showed for each particular height
the greatest and the smallest weight
the Army would accept.
I'd heard of people who'd gotten out
by injuring themselves intentionally.
Some exaggerated a minor back pain.
Others faked insanity.
Losing weight seemed nobler;
lying/mutilation, not required.
  
The low for me was 118;
lose twenty pounds and I'd be out.
(At 5'10", that's pretty thin.
Could I do it and not get sick?)
My parents thought for sure I'd die.
  
Help from doctors was out of the question;
on my own I studied nutrition.
Cut down on calories,
maintain needed nutrients
(protein, essential fats, vitamins, and minerals).
Once I found a working combination,
I stuck to it without exception.
Cottage cheese, wheat germ, and fish were staples.
Bored fat cells chose self-immolation.
My weight dropped to one hundred and twenty.

In cases where the weight was close
I'd heard the Army sometimes winked:
("Oh we'll fatten this guy up").
I decided to lose to one hundred and ten.
  
Contrary to my parents' fears --
though vigorous exercise made me dizzy --
I really wasn't sick at all.

The Army sent a special bus
to take us to the physical.
Once there, we stripped to underpants,
moved like cattle from each room to the next.
I weighed 110.
They classified me 1-Y
(examine again in a year;
if still unfit, reject).
Losing again would be inconvenient,
but free of worry since I knew that it worked.
  
I'd brought some food.
I drank and ate it ravenously.
  
So what did I feel on that bus heading home?
Triumph? Elation? No.
Relief, sadness, and guilt.
Relief because finally I was free of this mess.
Sadness and guilt because someone else
would be made to go and fight in my place.
It's true this person, on some level,
had chosen not to escape --
but maybe he just hadn't thought it through. . . .
  
Now for a bold statement from a slimy ex-draft-dodger --
I'm sure you'll think this hypocritical -- :
Each of us must be ready to serve.
Responsibility for protecting things we love
can not lie solely with the professional military.
(Future wars could overwhelm them.)
  
Service isn't always guns.
Service might be joining the Peace Corps
or electing leaders who effectively distinguish
false threats from real ones -- and pre-empt war.
  
Wars should be rare, ****** upon us.
No more propping up tottering dictators.
No more shoving "Democracy" down people's throats.
No more sacrificing 10,000 soldiers so we can pay a
      quarter less for gasoline.
  
Wars should be necessary and just;
everyone should serve.

Many would take it
as the midway station to heaven
nineteen hundred miles up
can heaven be far away?

Some would even think
that sixty three million years
is eternal enough
especially for those hopeless potbellied souls
knowing that it’s impossible for them to pass through
the tiny eye of a needle
here, God is not
the Final Judge

Of course there are details to be worked out
for instance, should there be racial segregation
like that in the old South Africa
so as to preserve the purity of the ashes?
Or, as long as they can afford to pay
should even dogs and cats be allowed?


* Many years ago a Houston space service company had a plan to send human ashes into space.  According to the plan, ten thousand human remains would orbit the earth at a distance of nineteen hundred miles for a minimum of sixty-three million years.