I was 15 when I first got drunk on vodka at a
friend’s house when his parents were gone for the
evening. Some say, boys will be boys. My hangover
and my mother’s admonition the next day told me
that I had made a big mistake.
I was 16 when I was fed up with school and society,
and left high school never to return. Some say it was
too early. And I felt it was too late.
I was 17 when I enlisted in the Army with my mother’s
reluctant approval. I gave her no choice, refusing to go
back to school. I was just a kid who swore and oath to
the Constitution. Now my “ass belonged to the drill
sergeants” which controlled my fate.
I was 19 and still wet behind the ears when I got married
and had my first child. Not knowing who I was and hoped
to become, I was immature and not prepared to face the
errs of my way.
Fast forward and given the constraints of time let it be said,
I had a long road to hoe getting here to where I am today
in my 75th year. And as the old adage may apply, better
late than never.
I suppose given patience and time, certain grapes ferment into
a fine vintage wine. Suppose then you could classify my life
more like the Thunderbird variety—a brand widely known by
urchins of the streets to have a kick-ass potency. Ah, but you
be the judge...Here, take a swig from the bottle of my life and
see, unmistakably a bitter bouquet, and on the pocketbook,
frugally pretty damn cheap.
-30-
Chris Hanch 9-8-2022
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