58

Amid all the remembrances, it is still my birthday today. Number 58 to be precise.
I was working the Model 45 Final Assembly line that day, eleven years ago.
It was number 47.
I have feelings about it. I stood to attention for the moment of silence. I always have.
It is still number 58.
All things being said, I would prefer to be aboard a Nimitz Class Ship, launching fully loaded Super Hornets to targets filled with scum.
I am a Jew. I understand the threat facing us, from my ancestors who managed to get to this country from Europe in the Thirties.
Grudge? Perhaps so. No apologies what so ever. Us or them, basically.
58.
Twenty years since I last went to sea as a young man, one could say.
58.
Done more in a day than 95 percent of the congress and administration have collectively done in their entire lives.
58.
This is about as pissed as I am going to get.