Old

It was early, just at dawn when i walked down to the lobby, allowing Maureen to get some more sleep.

There was this old man at the counter, getting information about Asheville, i suppose, from the clerk. i walked past and picked out my paper cup by the large coffee urn. The old man came up. i motioned for him to go ahead of me. As he poured his coffee, i noticed the ball cap he wore noted he had been in the Navy and the ribbon that adorned the side of the cap indicated he had served in Vietnam. As we exchanged pleasantries after we had both poured our cups of coffee, i asked the old man when he had served.

He gave me a detailed accounting of how he had been a medical administrator in Newport, RI, Subic Bay in the Philippines, and in Vietnam, adding he had been in from 1965-68.

After i told him i had made a career as a surface warfare officer, he queried me about my homeports and regaled me with more of his stories about the rest of his life.

Nice guy, this old man.

Near the end of his tales, he said he was eighty years old.

Hmm….

He’s only two years older than me.

Old.

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