Feeling like Wyatt Earp

Wyatt Earp was born mid 1800s and died 1929.

His entire life was horse and cariage, steam trains- old west stuff.

He saw flight go from novelty to commercial. He saw machinery take over every aspect of human life. He saw the invention of automobiles, electric power, radios, tv. He saw them become common place (tv being the exception- but he saw it coming.)

He saw the great war machine erase an entire generation of young men. He saw the rise of feminism, national socialism, progressivism.

He saw the national parks initiative. The paving of roads and building of dams.

They were all firsts. New ideas that transformed the world he knew and lived through into something futuristic and completely foreign to everything he knew.

My father was born in 1950. In his lifetime he has seen the world Wyatt Earp left behind change into yet another foreign future to his generation.

Automobiles are now high tech space aged earth bound vessels- some even driving themsevles now totally autonomous. His generation went to the moon and back again, only to be called cranks by their grandchildren. "Did that really happen though?"

He lived through political coups and assassinations, the cold war, the space race.

He saw the highways expand into the vast freeway systems we see today.

He saw poverty virtually dissapear in America, only to be strategically applied to politically undesirables.

He saw the genocide of abortion erase more generations than all wars of his life combined- a father of seven, he saw America shift to a negative birth rate.

He saw computers go from filling entire floors of a high rise to fitting on your desktop, and in your hand.

He saw the commercialization of everything- the expansion of everything to sheer abundance. . . and the then outsourcing of that abundance- the outsourcing of America, the factories his father worked closed down- entire industries rise and fall. Now AI. . .

He'll die in a world as foreign to him as his was to that Old West Marshall. 

He will likely see space flight become somewhat accessible to the average person, as flight was in 1929.

He might see AI revolutionalize industries and change the human/work dynamic in ways unimaginable to him.

He might see the utter collapse of the western world and free markets and the rise of Islam in America. The end of freedom.

I was born in 1981. The world I grew up in is already gone.

I wonder. . . As Wyatt Earp saw the world change, was there hope for humanity in his eyes when he died? I think so.

Here I am feeling like Wyatt Earp living in a world I barely recognise, knowing this future is going to be even more foreign to me- envious of my father who might can see it with some hope, as he will not have to live much longer through it.

I am envious of Wyatt Earp dying when he did, before WWII in the opulence of the roaring 20s, before the crash, the poverty, the Nazis. . . Before the horrors he was probably too hopeful to see coming.

I am envious of his world. How I would rather have been born in 1881 rather than 1981- even if to die in the great war with so many noble men. . . Just a little younger than I am now. Envious of their legacies.

Maybe we all feel a little like the aging Wyatt Earp, reminiscing of the good ol' days, the glory days. . . The '80s the '90s. . . The past, ours or some one elses shot we missed out on. 

Was it really like that? I myself wonder sometimes- even though I saw it. We all have to face the future with the past behind us and answer "yes, give or take a lie or two." and move onward into that unknown just as our fathers did, no matter how long we have in it. This is our time. Only ours.

Reflections of a 45 year old

When I was a kid, and all through my teens, my dream life was to serve in the military– do something cool like Rangers or MP– and then work for the FBI or some other federal law enforcement.

None of that happened.

I tried to join the army a couple times, once during Bush's presidency and once during Obama's.I formally submitted papers only once with a recruiter in the early 2000s. I was rejected. I filed an appeal with the Pentagon and never got a response.

I talk with a recruiter again before I aged out, but the consensus was it wasn't gonna happen.In that time I learned and worked my trade. I genuinely don't know if it was for better or worse. Having that plan fall apart made my life fall apart.

The Army was always a safe choice, a sure thing. For me it wasn't just a sure thing, it was a chosen path since I was like 5 years old. I had no contingency for rejection.

I grew up mostly off the grid, outside the school systems. I may have finished k- 3rd grade, but after that it was a couple weeks in 4th grade and then I never saw the inside of a school til I was 20 or so. I wasn't prepared for life in the modern world at all, but I never worried too much about that because I was smarter than the average uneducated joe, and the Army took just about everyone– or so I believed.

At 20 my folks divorced while I was away for a summer visiting my brothers. I became stuck in a new place. I worked at a call center and began making life plans. I should have signed up then and there, but then 911 happened. I talked with recruiters, but I didn't want to be canon fodder, so I waited. I got my GED and went to college.

ROTC wasn't available to me because I had no highschool. I would watch those guys and gals with envy as they seemed to be always running in a group around campas. I loved running too, so it kinda irked me even more.

I wasn't a great student. I'd get bored half way through a semester and my grades would tank. As much as I liked college, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing. I was so far behind in generals anyway, that it seemed pointless to pursue a degree or career through academics. After two semesters I quit rather than take out a forever loan.That's when I tried to join the Army. Everything was fine, looked good but for one little question. 

My recruiter stopped me and told me (very carefully) not to answer it honestly. He spoke between the lines in a way, but I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to omit this detail.

The issue was a simple one. When my parents divorced, shortly after while living with my mother, at her behest I went to a psychiatrist.

The Army didn't care why or what determination the psychiatrist made. It was an automatic disqualifying event. That was policy. But to omit that information constitutes a lie, and lying on the form is also a disqualifying event and a felony.

Against my recruiter's advice, I submitted the forms as honestly answered and was rejected. An appeal was filed, letters of recommendation by the psychiatrist and others included. No answer was ever received.

That derailed my life. I became depressed, withdrew from the world, my standard american flag t-shirt and jeans wardrobe became whatever slop hand-me-downs I received. I didn't care about anything anymore for a long time.

People who knew me in this time probably remember a disheveled melancholy persona, with holes in his clothes and shoes taped together. It's true. I just wore things till they literally fell off me, or until some one made me throw it out. I wore what was convenient and available, often showing up to work or social events in pajama bottoms and a dress shirt– usually because I had no pants, but still wanted to look nicer than wearing stained and torn t-shirts everywhere. I couldn't help my shoes– duct tape kept them going long after their retire date. Shoes are expensive.

The end of this period of my life coincided with a suicide attempt. It was out of that I came to terms with being here.

A friend at the time who had personal experience on the matter summed it up perfectly when upon seeing me for the first time out of the hospital said "well what now, huh." It was exactly how I felt. He knew.

It was that same friend that got me in my trade a year or so earlier. He was a mentor that I am forever in debt to.

That was ~16 years ago. Back then I could have never imagined my life today.

Then, I desperately loved in hopes some one would return the passion. No one did, not really. I never dated anyone as desperate as myself.

Then I never thought I'd have a child, something I was still surprised about in recent years, both wanting and having a son.

Back then I never could imagine wanting to build a shop and business doing that trade I begrudgingly learned out of lack of anything else before me.

Back then I was still in the shadow of the person the world rejected and wouldn't let me become. I was angry and bitter, but didn't see it for years. Looking back I can't blame all the people who steered clear or didn't. . . (everyone but the Pentagon, those people can burn in hell for the life they denied me.)

Anyway, the point is that things do work out. I am happy today. I have it pretty good with new challenges I that couldn't even be on my radar a 16 or 20 years ago. It is what it is. 

Coming into my 40s (45 this year) considering the hand I started with, I think I'm still coming out on top– sure, I didn't get lucky, I didn't hit four aces on the draw. . . You can't win every hand. It's staying in the game that matters.