Fate? Luck?

 

I was thinking about bad marriages, reminding myself how lucky I am to be in a good one and not to screw it up, when I remembered a woman I used to know when I was stationed on Guam some years ago.  She was an Electrician's Mate PO-1 on the Frank Cable (AS-40) that I met at the old submariner's bar the Horse & Cow in Tamuning, which has been closed now for almost exactly a year after being in business for more than 70 years. The much tamer one in Bremerton is gone, too, I think (see the short video below for a taste of it, then imagine a crazier version; that would be Guam's).  Man, nothing lasts, does it? She and I had some fun times there.  That's where I found out I could not hold my liquor.  Lordy, lordy. Heh.

Where was I?  Oh, yeah. 

Um, well, this woman was married to a man who became very abusive to her, both verbally and physically. For a long time, she thought that she was the one at fault and tried not to do things to set him off and to make home life as pleasant as possible. But nothing she did was good enough for him. 

What ended it all was one evening when she had spent some considerable time making a special meal for his birthday, potato gnocchi, which she remembered his mother telling her was his favorite meal. He got home, surly and uncommunicative as usual, and sat down at the dinner table. When she served him, he took one look at what was on his plate and said, "Is this to eat or has it already been eaten?" 

That broke her. She got her coat and purse and walked out of the house, leaving everything else behind, and never went back.  She walked all night, not knowing where she was going, just away, just away. The next morning she found herself at a strip mall and bought something to eat.  While eating, she saw a recruiting office a few doors down, went in and signed up. She'd never thought about joining the service before that minute. Why the navy?  That was the only recruiter not already talking to somebody.

The Frank Cable in the distance. 

When I met her, she had been in the navy nine years, which, considering her rank, says she was pretty darn good at her job.  So all's well that ends well, right?  She had found a home in the navy and the story had a happy ending.

Well...no.  See, one day riding her motorbike home from work, a guy who had just gotten out of jail after serving a sentence for drunk driving celebrated by getting drunk at a bar, climbed into his car and careened into traffic just as she passed by. He slammed into her and dragged her body under his car for almost a mile before another driver who had seen the accident was able to force him to stop.  She was taken to Naval Hospital Guam where I saw her brought in. 

She was pronounced dead without any need to examine what remained of her body. 

 What's the moral of this story? That life sucks?  Expect the worst to  happen to you sooner or later?  That if your life is okay now, if you are in a decent marriage, if you have a good job, fall to your knees thanking God and praying that your good luck continues because it very well may not...probably will not? 

I don't know. 

 

 

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Now I've gone and depressed myself.  Wanda....  

Well, what I do when I'm feeling down is play a happy tune and dance.  Fixes me up every time.  Try it!