Good morning… today is the last Monday of January. Not that that has any significance whatsoever… it just is, is all.
It’s a free ride today: The commute is ice-free, fog-free, wind-free, rain-free, rock-free, care-free.
Wait, it’s not totally free: As you descend the mountain on Highway 18, in the passing lane (that’s the lane on the left, for anybody who isn’t clear on that) about on the apex of Panorama Point’s curve, there’s something in the road. Honestly, it could be a dead bear, it could be a blanket, it could be just about anything… well, anything that sort of looks like a dead bear or a blanket. It’s likely to be gone by now, but use a little caution in case it is still there. UPDATE: Around 6:40 AM, it was reported that CHP performed a traffic break, and removed the item from the road… it was reported to be a large black tarp.
My friends, we have NOT done “Random Story Time” for a very long time! We need to do that… specifically, because of a news story I recently read. You see, a few days ago, retired General Colin Powell was driving down the Interstate somewhere on the East Coast when he experienced a tire failure. He pulled to the side of the road and was attempting to change the tire. However, he was having some trouble… tight lugs nuts or some such thing. A passing motorist saw him struggling and stopped to help. The other motorist turned out to be a fellow veteran, and even a fan of General Powell. It was really cool, as General Powell said that he felt a renewed sense of hope for America, after seeing that regular people will help other regular people. The other guy, of course, was also pretty excited to have met one of his heroes.
Now, this reminded me of a an incident that happened a few years ago. A buddy of mine (we’ll call him… “Jeff,” because his name is, “Jeff”!) and I were driving through San Bernardino one night. We saw a car on the center median of the (now) 210 Freeway, with an obviously flat tire. On a whim, we decided to stop and see if we could help. Neither Jeff nor I were comfortable just leaving a person in a disabled car at that time of night, in that area. So, for the sake of US being able to sleep better, we stopped to assist.
We pulled over and got out of the car. The other driver, an older man, explained that he simply did not have a jack… he had a spare and a lug wrench, but no jack.
I had a jack in my car… so Jeff and I got to work and proceeded with the tire change. The other driver was grateful, but asked right away if we were service members. Well, both of us had been recently discharged (both honorably, I might add!) from the U.S. Army, and our haircuts had betrayed us. When we answered in the affirmative, the other driver said, “That’s great! Me too! I was a sergeant major!”
Now… my BS flag was immediately activated. You see, over the years, I’ve met COUNTLESS people who have claimed high rank, or special service (Special Forces, Green Berets, SEALs, Blue Angels pilot, whatever), or even fantastic medals… but the vast majority of the time, they’ve been completely false claims. For some reason, false boasts about military heroics seem to be very popular. Hell, I even went through basic training in 1990 with a guy who was only 18 years old… but who actually told stories about his time in ‘Nam. Sure… that guy was a little “touched,” shall we say… but there is no shortage of people out there who tell military stories about things that never happened anywhere except in their own imagination.
So, when this stranded driver said that he was a sergeant major, I was immediately sort of deflated. I had already been thinking that this guy seemed very normal and nice… I liked him. But suddenly, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was just another mental case, somebody with an uncontrollable desire to tell tall tales.
However… perhaps sensing my immediate skepticism (in spite of my attempt to pretend like I believed him!), he whipped out a military ID card… it showed him to be a retired E-9… which, indeed, would make him a sergeant major. Maybe he WASN’T full of crap after all…
Well, Jeff and I finished getting the spare installed. Our new Army pal begged us to drop by his place for a beer, just as thanks for giving him a hand. He said that he lived very close, right there in Highland… so, what the hell… Jeff and I decided that we might as well. Besides, we were both sort of intrigued by this old guy.
We entered his house, and the first thing we saw was a huge portrait of him wearing his Class A uniform. Only, the uniform itself was difficult to see under all of the ribbons and medals.
Well, Sergeant Major Patton grabbed a couple of beers, and a photo album. One of the first pictures he showed us was of a much younger him… standing with General George S. Patton. As it turns out, this guy whose house we were in, was once an E-5 Sergeant—named Patton—who was General Patton’s right hand man! He said that the jokes were endless back then with both of them being named Patton, but clearly being of different lineages: General Patton was white… Sergeant Major Patton was black.
He showed us more recent pictures of him with a number of different U.S. Presidents… his high rank had granted him access, neigh, invitations, to many White House events. He showed us medals… One was for being the SOLE survivor of an entire platoon (Maybe it was even a company? I can’t remember) of black tank operators… every other member was killed, but he fought on. He had at one time been in neck-and-neck competition for Sergeant Major of the Army… the single highest enlisted rank in the military. However, the position had gone to somebody else… but he HAD been just THAT close.
Jeff and I spent only a short time there, as we didn’t want to make pests of ourselves. However, that night was incredibly memorable for us… it was like meeting a HUGE celebrity, only, this was somebody we could actually respect! He was somebody we could relate to, somebody whose lifetime accomplishments were worthy of great honor, somebody who had legitimately EARNED every ounce of respect a person could imagine…. We were astoundingly privileged to have met this man.
I have no idea where Sergeant Major Patton is today. However, neither Jeff nor I will ever forget meeting one of our heroes, right here in San Bernardino.