Phil took his hand-held pads and began to walk with his saunter-like slow stroll type pace. As he moved towards me, he took his right padded hand and put the tip of the pad to just under his nose. He carried his left padded hand and held it to his chest. Phil closed his eyes as he did all this simultaneously, and with his eyes almost looking like either a long held blink. Or what he thought I understood. But now he had to explain this me. It was just short of an eyeroll. Which I knew was not aimed at me. It was because even Phil hated the idea that people could be so ill-willed and callous, to someone that never aimed harm in their direction. Yet, he saw how I was perceived. He got it. Phil really did.
One may wonder what would inspire someone to work hard labor voluntarily. For me it’s the love of many things. It’s the passion that won’t be broken. Because there are so many aspects to such service for me, that it may seem beyond comprehension. I’d compare it to my youthful desire to enter the military as a young child. Then for a multitude of reasons only to follow through thirteen years later at age eighteen entering the Marines. There were things that followed me throughout my life. Sometimes they were questions of how I ever gave up my over decade’s life dream to become a New Jersey State Trooper. My childhood desire to never wed—to never have any serious relationships with another human being. I desired only service in military and law enforcement nearly my whole childhood. Too the extent that even one of my Marine Corps superiors expressed to me last July, “I never thought you’d ever get married. It just wasn’t who you were. You were always a loner.” I replied, “Yeah. I know.