Sometimes my legs get snowed on when I go outside to fetch wood. I guess I deserve what I got. I live up high in the valley. Glass windows to look out through. A stove that cackles when the artichokes catch snow, a pot that smokes, and skis, two pairs of skis, that whimper time to time. Through the glass I can see a great big mountain I have climbed on special occasions to leave special things like ashes of loved thing ashes of loved things a world away–and my pelvis don’t function like it used to. I been snowed in–and on–plenty. Ain’t always comfortable out there in the cold and wet. I been in some hairyness. Never in a major charge. But I been a picket plenty. Been through the ranger training with Darby. Was awful. Worse than any missions run in the field when you factor in the food and sleep lost. And the terrible cold. I run messages through enemy tunnels. Had to talk my way out of a lynching or two along the way. Knew the language some. Kapampangan. Picked it up on the Government Issue Bill. But the Government been good to us. A Veteran paid surgeon going to pull some old metal out my leg that starting to rust in a fortnight. I suspect the anesthesia will be about the same going out as going in. Two stiff pulls and a cord of wood. And a prayer in the name of fair Sanders who saw human in our kind and helped us out through the long nights from the beginning.

— Tele Mon, soldier, freespirit, telemarcoeur, father, poet, mountaineer, lover of Peace