Around the fire roasting a mastodon long ago, or fishing with ripe hot dogs, storytelling is as old as language, as old as man. It’s the anchors we bury, story by story, into our the landscape of our lives. Our local stories hold us against the current, hold us from floating away, alone.
He didn’t specify which branch of service he was in, but we guessed it was the one that tends to be secretive. After several, appropriately vague, stories about his ventures there, we shared our experiences being lost in Laos on the spiders web of the Hoh Chi Minh Trail, and we could tell he knew all about the anti-personnel “bobmbies” we were worried about.
This silly six foot tarpon thought my camera was a fish! Almost lost it, and a few fingers too