Monday, November 26, 2012

vows in a fetid swamp

There I was, in the hot summer of 1968, trudging through the swamps of central Louisiana, surrounded by bugs and armadilloes, weighed down for days with weapons and a heavy backpack, being trained to be a killing machine in the jungles of Vietnam (training which fortunately I never needed in the jungles of Germany).  Is it any wonder that I would stand there in a foxhole that I just dug and vow two things:  that I would never in my life return to the state of Louisiana and that I would never go camping?

For 44 years, I have kept those vows!

Until next week.  No, don't worry, I'm not going camping.  I'm flying into New Orleans, Louisiana, which I realize is a world away from Fort Polk but still has me struggling morally with that vow which was, I argue, made under extenuating circumstances.  Now I know how those Republican senators feel who are finally dumping Grover Norquist's no-tax pledge!


Anonymous said...

Two silly vow's, and both deserved to come to a unceremonious end.

Lee said...

My fave NOLA restaurant...Bayona, on Dauphine. If you can.