Thinking of Manny and Matt

I needed to get this out of my head before getting on with getting News From Hico back into some kind of working shape.

Within the first three weeks of arriving at Fort Gordon, I got the news that one of the Officer Candidates in my class -- Manny -- had killed himself. I didn't have any clear memory of the guy. He was recycled (Army term for failing out and classing up later), early in my class term, and was later kicked out of the officer candidate program altogether. My reaction was to say "That's terrible" and feel a distant feeling of sadness.

A lot of people come into the military at the end of an emotional rope, and that's not where you want to be mentally when you also have to go through the stress of training. The news about Manny didn't hit me that hard -- and I apologize if that comes through as harsh. A lot of other people remember him as a fun, enthusiastic guy they enjoyed spending time with.

Still, a person I barely remembered killed himself after going through an extremely tough failure.

Matt is easy to remember. Me and Matt went through basic training together at Fort Sill and were in the same class at Officer Candidate School.

We talked often. Matt was extremely likable, though we never became friends. He was a brilliant guy -- philosophy major. He had a look of an intense, proactive and kind intellectualism (if that makes any sense).

Mainly he was the type of guy who could talk over your head, outrun you in a race, and then beat the crap out of you after you finished, not that he would do anything like that. He flew through Officer Candidate School without breaking a sweat -- winning over the rough prior service guys without compromising the intellectualism and kindness that always showed through his personality. (Basically, everyone respected him, despite the fact that most anyone else acting that way would be labeled a geek.)

Three weeks ago, I got the news that Matt had killed himself. It wasn't like hearing about Manny.

Looking back, I guess the evidence of Matt's struggle was there. I can remember a couple of times when he seemed depressed. I didn't think much about it. In OCS, everyone's depressed, and he seemed to bounce back.

When I heard the news, it was the first time I had ever thought, "I wish I could have talked him down, it would have been so easy. His mind. His health. His freaking popularity." There were some rumors of some personal problems Matt had, but none of it added up to much, I guess, to most people's points of view.

I have a Catholic view of suicide -- your life ultimately belongs to God and, therefore, the community of people around you. In other words, your troubles do not give you the right to kill your parents' kid. I'm stuck with a feeling of disappointment in both of these guys.

But mainly I'm stuck with the same feeling everyone has after something like this. It doesn't make sense. It never will. I hope their families and friends will cope as best they can, and remember them for the good people they were.

Die movie. Die.

So Eat, Pray, Love is about a woman who dumps her husband -- and later her boyfriend -- because she has to take a monumentally expensive trip around the world in order to find herself. Really?

What do you call a man who quits his marriage simply because he's not feelin' it anymore?

A bum.

A scaliwag.

A scoundrel!


Yet a well-off woman can jump ship from a good marriage and get a free pass -- and sometimes even a societal celebration. Maybe a couple of decades ago the story rang true for average-income females stuck in negative relationships with no real options. I get that.

But when your options are either stay in a marriage with people who adore you or take a round-the-world, guru-schmoozing, I-must-find-my-inner-awesome trip... Well, you ma'am are a scoundrel!

A scaliwag.

A bum.

And a more-than-likely tedious presence at parties.

Die movie. Die.

I’m beginning to fear that someday I’ll end up reading ‘Catcher in the Rye’

A stack of the book sits on a table at Barnes and Noble, under an optimistic sign that labels Catcher and some other novels and nonfiction as “Your Summer Reading Projects.”

I don’t want too. I’ve barely read enough westerns to claim any significant knowledge of the genre outside of Elmer Kelton and that ass-clown genius Larry McMurtry. There’s got to be some more decent, likable fantasy out there, my list of must-read military books keeps growing, and I’ve been wanting to bone up on my knowledge of Native American mythology.

And everybody says Catcher is a horrible book. I’ve heard and seen about a thousand references to how it’s a horrible book. But that’s just it -- EVERYBODY says Catcher is a horrible book. Reading and dismissing it is like some intellectual cool guy patch. You get to be one of those people making sharp comments on TV and in the movies -- disdaining a masterpiece no one has called a masterpiece since boater hats were in.

Despite all the references I still remain unclear on the plot details – something about a snarky adolescent who does nothing yet becomes slightly less of a bastard. I don’t get why anybody would read it, when the primary adjectives about it are “boring”, “pretentious” and “indulgent.” Are other people able to read a book like their personal MST3K episode, throwing in enough jokes and insults to make the whole thing bearable?

I don’t get it.

I know it’s there at Barnes and Noble.

Waiting.

Anyway.

I declare this blog re-opened.