Cowboy Blob's Saloon and Shootin Gallery

I'm not a real Cowboy, but I play one in the movies.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

It's a Small World

Greyhawk at the Mudville Gazette has a touching post about the few degrees of separation that exist in the military community and the story of another fallen hero. Read it...I'll wait.

My career field was a small world; after basic training, I never went anywhere that I didn't know somebody (five guys from by basic flight went to the same tech school). Even when I scored a rare TDY to an isolated site in Germany, an amazing coincidence manifested itself. I was talking to a lady on my shift who was a Russian linguist; when she mentioned she came from a Ukrainian community in the US, I immediately thought of the Uke Homestead so near my hometown. No, it wasn't, but it's still creepy...it was in Ohio. Prior to this trip, a co-worker had been reminiscing aloud about this Ukrainian girl he had worshipped as a young man...and he was from Ohio. I asked her if she knew him and it turned out that it was her little sister that my coworker had been pining for! This trip almost got freakier...a high school friend was vacationing in Germany at the same time and he just happened to be coming to Bavaria. I gave him my duty phone number which he called when he arrived in-country. Unfortunately, it turned out he'd be getting there the same morning my bus was leaving for the Paris Air Show. Sorry guy. I've seen you before, but I'll probably never see Paris again (plus, I'd already paid for the trip).

He's not the only high school classmate I'd pass in the night. My roommate at language school used to sit next to me in high school English class...I later encountered him at Survival School where he was faculty and I was red meat...fortunately, he was very cool about it. I ran into another classmate standing in line for a taxi in Korea; I almost didn't recognize him without his long red hair. Another lives right here in Tucson, but I never saw her until our 20-year Reunion.

My best friend Alan is the master of the small world. He was my Dorm Chief in Basic Training, fellow flight member in language school, and fellow squadron member as instructors at tech school. I was the Best Man at his wedding. His wife was later secretary in Germany for an officer who was in my high school history club (and my little brother's best friend). Alan left the linguist field to become an analyst and soon got to know everybody in the Air Force intel community.

Chief Master Sergeant: "Hey, here comes our new commander."
Incoming Commander: "Oh, hi, Alan!"

[Gets the look from the Chief]

Of course, I call Alan "Chief" even though he'll retire next year one stripe short of the rank. Thanks for everything, Chief!

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