For me the holiday season was always the most rewarding time of the year as a child interested in hunting. I had every issue of deer and deer hunting magazine to fill in during the non-holiday months. But hearing and seeing hunting as a kid can never be replaced..those memories will stick with you the rest of your years. During Christmas and Thanksgiving, we started a tradition. My Grandfather, God rest his soul, used to sit down after the meal and tell us of all the deer hunting stories he remembered growing up. For me their was no better story teller that lived. See my family has always been sort of dysfunctional and encountered endless arguments over senseless topics for as long as I can remember. The lesson of karma is that at some point in time, God, the Universe and the "powers that be" will step in with the intent of rebuilding the structure of a family broken down.

Not only were the fads up in the air in the seventies, so were the headline news. In 1971, the 26th Amendment was passed allowing a U.S. citizen to be able to vote at age 18. In 1974, President Nixon resigned from office as the Watergate scandal unfolds. In 1975, President Ford announces war in Vietnam was finished as far as the U.S. was concerned. And Space became the "New Frontier". In 1972, Pioneer 10 lifted off to journey past Jupiter. In 1973, Skylab was launched by NASA. And in 1976, the Viking I landed on Mars. Boy, times were changing fast, just as Bob Dylan had predicted. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Equinox Considering cost of living in her area in the seventies, her income was suitable. A new home could be purchased for $25,000. A postage stamp rose from $0.06 in 1970 to $0.15 in 1979. I asked my mother if she could recall some prices of the decade. She remembered bread being $0.29, gas $0.74 a gallon, candy bars $0.05, soft drinks $0.10-0.15 a bottle in the early seventies and in the late seventies prices started to rise. She remembered cigarettes costing $1.00 a pack, cracker $0.29, milk $1.00 and most canned goods $0.10. Li-Li led me into a corridor leading to an office in the back of the building. There she introduced me to Mr. Nguyen van Duong who wasted no time in getting to his questions. Duong was an ugly man, small and fat at the same time. His hair was thin for a guy in his 40s, and he used a pomade to plaster it to this head. The skin on his face had an oily sheen to it. His lips were fat and reminded me of raw liver. So you're thinking of trading in that gas guzzler collecting rust in the driveway. According to the official "Cash for Clunkers" website, your 1979 buy truck at auction won't make the cut-even if you swear it's the biggest piece of "clunk" on the block. The official rules state vehicles must be less than 25 years old. As for the embarrassing junk-mobile you just inherited from your crazy uncle-trade in vehicles must be registered and insured continuously for the full year before you participate. To digress a bit, I need to tell you that Sgt. Grace lied. First, the language I was assigned to study was Vietnamese. Second, after going through the 101st Airborne Division's jungle combat school in Phan Rang, I was assigned to the 1st Brigade, a reactionary unit. I joined them in Dak To, and early the next morning was flown out to join an artillery battery in what was called "Operation Eagle Bait". Didn't take long to find out we were the bait, and Charlie was the eagle. The objective was to tempt the Viet Cong into attacking us, then bring in an assault wave of Huey's loaded with infantry, and wipe the enemy out. What I quickly discovered is that there is nothing in the world comparable to the first night you are brought out of a deep sleep by M-60 machine gun fire. I resumed my mission and approached the Shadow Bar. Shadow Bar is an unusual name that had nothing to do with the building itself. The walls were bright, white stucco with the front of the one-story building evenly divided by a massive black door with a small glass window centered about five feet up from the sidewalk. The few windows in the building were covered with shades and draperies that allowed no glimpse of what was happening inside. See, when my dad had his injury, all of the resentment, rage and shame I was feeling as a full time nanny, just melted away. When I see my dad taking steps with shaking knees, just like my granddaughter, I know that God has given me a great job. I am an angel, who teaches the art of walking in the face of fear.