11/11

An old high school friend, who is going through a rough time right now, had asked me to go see a movie with him.  Afterwards, we decided to go get some ice cream.  While sitting in the shop, I happened to look out the window, and there amidst the lightning flashes, I saw not one but five --five-- tornadoes bearing down on us.

All of the customers kind of gathered in the middle of the shop, taking what shelter we could under the heavy tables.  A deafening sound, glass flying everywhere, and as quickly as it came, it was gone.

I'm not sure how I ended up at the minor emergency clinic, but somehow I was there.  He was on duty that night.  Handsome doctor who looks somewhat like Tom Selleck.  He's been trying to talk me into marrying him, but as I tell him --again and again, some folks just aren't the marrying kind. 

Very reassuring, going to get my split lip stitched right away.  Didn't even give me any anesthetic.  He just started stitching.  Five stitches, it took, and I felt every one of them.

That's when I woke up, and I was so traumatized by the night's events that I completely forgot it was my birthday.  Then I logged into Facebook and saw my wall filled with birthday wishes.  Oh, yeah!

It's also Veteran's Day.

You know, I got into a spirited discussion with a barking moonbat not too long ago.  And as is typical of them, he had no facts or logic to support his debate, so --as is typical-- he turned immediately to name calling and hurling insults.  He said that he had more culture in his little finger than I have in the last five generations of my family.  (He also said that I was married to my brother and had no teeth, and we're supposed to be the uneducated bigots.  Go figure.)  Here is my response.

What do you know about me?  What do you know about my family?  Five generations, huh?  You want to go five generations.  OK, I'll give you five generations.

Generation 1

Myself--Becky Gunstream:  United States Navy, regular Navy. Not National Guard. Not Reserves.  Navy.  Five years.  Stationed in Naples, Italy.

My sister--Deana Gunstream Smoot:  United States Navy,  regular Navy.  Not National Guard.  Not Navy Reserves.  Navy.  Four years*  Stationed in Iceland, and Italy.

My Older Brother-- Russell Gunstream:  United States Army.  Regular Army.  Not National Guard.  Not Army Reserves.  Army.  Five years*.  Stationed in Georgia, Kansas, and Texas. 

My Younger Brother--Scott Gunstream:  Attempted to enlist in the United States Army, but didn't meet the physical requirements.  They said he was too skinny.  Seriously. 

Generation 2

My Father-- Walter L. Gunstream, Jr.:  United States Army.  Intended to enlist in the Navy after high school, but was drafted before he graduated.  Served in World War II in Japan.  Was recalled to active duty for the Korean conflict. 

My Uncle--Curtis L. Armstrong:  United States Navy.  Served in World War II in The Philippines. 

Generation 3

My Grandfather--  Walter L. Gunstream, Sr:  United States Army.  Fought in France and Germany in World War I.  Didn't like to talk about the war. 

Generation 4

My Great Grandfather-- Gustavus Adolphus Gunstream:  Served in the 3rd Texas Cavalry under General Walter P. Lane during the Civil War. 

Generation 5

My Great Great Grandfather-- Peter Magnus Gunstream:  Born in Sweden.  Left his home, his family, and everything he had to immigrate to America, legally, I might add, to live the dream of being free. 

There.  That's my five generations.  I've got a family culture I can be proud of.  What do you have?  Five generations of bums and beggars who hate this country and are determined to destroy it.  Well, I'll give you one more.

It's my family, and our love for this country...it is my family, and the millions more like us who don the uniform and pledge our lives in service to this great country of ours that give you the freedom to be an idiot.

And you know what?  Given the necessity, given the choice, I'd put that uniform back on and fight for my country again.  In a heartbeat.  So don't you dare lecture me on culture.  You wouldn't know true culture if it smacked you upside the head.


What can I say?  He ticked me off.  Just a bit.  

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