Stream of Consciousness

Memorial Day has proven to be a difficult time for me. In addition to thinking about the 20 years that my Vietnam Veteran Dad served and his passing, I think about my own brother that sacrificed 20 years of his life in the service of his country in the U.S. Navy and subsequently passed away. Grandfather Espinosa served in the Navy in WWII, and he’s gone too. Mom passed away on Memorial Day weekend, and therefore it is a rather painful time. Anyway, they’re all gone now, but have caused me to address stream of consciousness.

Stream of consciousness is when you say something right off of the top your head, and I’ve had some excellent ones. Check it out:

Today, David asked me if I have a day off tomorrow – I’m having beers and he knows that I don’t have beers if I have to work the next day. “I have a day off for Memorial Day.” Even before he asked, I said that Memorial Day is when we acknowledge the sacrifices of Grandpa, your Uncle Richard, and even my Grandpa Richard. “Our family has a long tradition of dying.” He didn’t think it was funny, but it’s true.

At any rate, I’ve had a few stream of consciousness moments that shall be recorded here:

During one winter in Korea, Yong was preparing some pork by cutting off all of the fat. She wondered “Why is there so much fat?” Just off of the top of my head I said “Well, it is winter. Animals put on fat because of the cold.” Was I correct? I don’t know, but I bet I am.

In a conversation with a sister she questioned why girls and boys bicycles are different. I said that “because females have a lower center of gravity than males, bicycles are designed to consider that”. Was I correct? I don’t know, but I bet I am.

The best stream of consciousness that I ever had came when I was sitting in the waiting room of the ID card facility at Fort Bragg, waiting with David to update his ID. We sat in the waiting room for such an inordinate amount of time that he eventually asked “why is this taking so long?” I am a veteran of sitting and waiting for government employees to do their job, but I needed to tell David why we had to wait. “ID cards are made of plastic. Do you know where plastic comes from?” “No, where?” “Well, plastic is made from a derivative of petroleum products. Essentially, oil. Do you know where oil comes from?” “Where?” “Well, millions of years ago, the dinosaurs died and eventually became the oil deposits from which we produce many products.” “”Okay. But, why are they taking so long?” “Oh. They’re in the back waiting for the dinosaur to die.”