The Sandman is as high as a kite!

It is often that I have the opportunity to meet some pretty interesting people. With my travel schedule, and the abundance of thin air at 35,000 feet, interesting people just fall out of the sky. In one of my recent entries, we had two new characters, Rocks and Plastics. Today, I'd like to introduce the Sandman.

With all of the wartime activity taking place, it is no wonder that service men and women are often seen on planes. God Bless them all. No matter my political or economic views of our wartime activities, the people in the theater of battle and on the ground are to be applauded for their valiant efforts. As I was returning home on New Year’s Eve 2008, I had the opportunity to meet one of these fine soldiers. The Sandman is a senior logistics officer in the US Army. A career man if you will. In an effort to repay some of my debt to our troops, I gave up my exit row seat to this man that had been traveling for nearly 30 hours, cooped up on various flights. So, there it is. I move up to the row in front of his. Across the aisle from the Sandman is the gentleman who lends us the rest of the title to the current article. He is an older gentleman, and best I can make out, a former New Yorker turned Floridian. Can't swing a dead cat without hitting one those, can you?

As one can imagine, the Sandman is eager to get home to his family. He's just been blessed with a granddaughter. His wife can't wait to see him. She has forbidden him to return after his final 90-day tour. The Sandman is a gentleman - articulate, generous in his time with the New Yorker, and just, well, decent. Why then is he the Sandman and why is he as high as a kite?

The high as a kite reference comes from the New Yorker. I had not heard it in so long. The reference was to a drinking binge the New Yorker had undergone in Europe some 35 years ago. One could tell the New Yorker love to tell tales. But the Sandman reference refers to what?

He smelled like sand. According to the Sandman, everything about him was sand - his food, his clothes, his pillowcase, and even his piquant odor. I was bemused. It is not all that important that he smelled like any one thing. It was important that he realized it and that it was a symbol of something much greater than all of us on that plane - commitment, courage, and absolute capitulation to the desert. The Sandman had sent his pillowcase home to his loving bride and begged her to understand the infernal aroma of his ways. She was convinced that the sandmen were for real.

It is real, folks. Whether we like it or not, it is real, it is happening today, and we must not let our energies wane in bringing peace to our world. As the Sandman finally relayed the underlying goal of war is peace. The goal of war is not more war. The reality is that the last eight years have followed a pattern of war should mean more war. Peace is pink slip for those fighting the war and that would just be unfathomable.

So, as the Sandman departed the plane as high as a kite, I too thought of getting home early to my family. But I also thought of the many brave men and women fighting for peace. Peace, damn it, peace is what we need. There is plenty for all of us if we work at it. If we do not find it, we are, as they say, doomed to repeat the sins of our forefathers. We stand at the edge of reason, waiting to fire yet another shot heard around the world.

As always, be thankful for what you have, take only what you need, and work diligently for peace. I shall try to do the same. From Cincinnati, OH, Happy New Year!