So Long, and Thanks for All the Schlitz
Actually, I had Yuengling, but that didn't fit.
America's oldest brewery. Since 1829. I hope I can get it in Ohio. If not, I am told it also has some fine local brew that may or may not taste like buckeye juice.
My junior year of college at Indiana University, the student newspaper asked for new comic strip auditions, as two of the previous year's strips were written by folks who had graduated. I had been drawing stick figure cartoons, featuring a 6-year old smartass named Jethro, for my friends for a few years, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I drew five strips of a story that had Jethro, a prodigy who'd graduated high school at age 5, heading for his college of destiny (IU), chosen with a random dart from a list on the wall. The third strip had him driving through Ohio in a cab, with a sign on the side of the road that read, "Now Entering Ohio: Please Don't Laugh at the Cows."
That still tickles me.
Anyhoo, today was my going-away at work, where I was given a picture of the Pentagon signed by all my coworkers and my two generals in charge, which was nice, as got some lovely parting words by the boss and others. I thanked everyone for putting up with me for a short tour (only 11 months) and thanked them for being a great group of folks to see every day, which is true. Always easier to slog into work at 0darknothing when you enjoy the company of your coworkers. I was thinking how lucky I was, but it later occurred to me that I've never NOT had a great group of people to work with. From small, 12/15-person units to 100-man squadrons, though I've had some crappy jobs, I've always made great friends among the people I've worked with. Always. Life-long friend, come-to-the-wedding-type people. I wonder if this is a characteristic of the military as a whole, or me just being able to put up with people easier than others.
I already know five or six people going to the same school in Dayton, but there will be hundreds of others to get to know. I sort of feel like Jethro; a punk kid off on some random adventure, yet always willing to stop and smell the cows.
Funny little bastards.
America's oldest brewery. Since 1829. I hope I can get it in Ohio. If not, I am told it also has some fine local brew that may or may not taste like buckeye juice.
My junior year of college at Indiana University, the student newspaper asked for new comic strip auditions, as two of the previous year's strips were written by folks who had graduated. I had been drawing stick figure cartoons, featuring a 6-year old smartass named Jethro, for my friends for a few years, so I thought I'd give it a shot. I drew five strips of a story that had Jethro, a prodigy who'd graduated high school at age 5, heading for his college of destiny (IU), chosen with a random dart from a list on the wall. The third strip had him driving through Ohio in a cab, with a sign on the side of the road that read, "Now Entering Ohio: Please Don't Laugh at the Cows."
That still tickles me.
Anyhoo, today was my going-away at work, where I was given a picture of the Pentagon signed by all my coworkers and my two generals in charge, which was nice, as got some lovely parting words by the boss and others. I thanked everyone for putting up with me for a short tour (only 11 months) and thanked them for being a great group of folks to see every day, which is true. Always easier to slog into work at 0darknothing when you enjoy the company of your coworkers. I was thinking how lucky I was, but it later occurred to me that I've never NOT had a great group of people to work with. From small, 12/15-person units to 100-man squadrons, though I've had some crappy jobs, I've always made great friends among the people I've worked with. Always. Life-long friend, come-to-the-wedding-type people. I wonder if this is a characteristic of the military as a whole, or me just being able to put up with people easier than others.
I already know five or six people going to the same school in Dayton, but there will be hundreds of others to get to know. I sort of feel like Jethro; a punk kid off on some random adventure, yet always willing to stop and smell the cows.
Funny little bastards.
posted by Dan at 7:09 PM
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