Friday, November 11, 2016
The First World War ended with an armistice, signed at the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. When I was a boy, November Eleventh was Armistice Day. At some point, when it became clear that this was not The War to End All Wars, November 11th morphed into Veteran's Day. I just got back from the Harris-Teeter supermarket across the street, where I had gone to pick up some grapes, some sugar, and a bottlew of Prosecco for my wife [I drink Cabernet.] At the checkout counter, the young man at the cash register asked whether I was a veteran. Well, as it happens, I am, in a manner of speaking, inasmuch as the first six months of my six year National Guard service in 1957 was on active duty. I have the Honorable Discharge to prove it. So I said "yes," somewhat abashedly, seeing as how I never was in the slightest danger, save from Sgt. McVicker, who was a mean son of a botch. Whereupon, I got an 11% discount. Had I known, I would have bought more.