So yesterday I drove all the way to Pismo Beach to have some documents signed for work. The client I was meeting with was a 90 year old man, a WW2 veteran and POW. His house was like a monument of military history. Documentaries and books filled bookshelves that lined all the walls in the living room, and even the art was a testament to a sensibility deeply engrossed in the past.

It turns out he had been a POW at Moosburg (an SS POW camp near Bavaria) in 1945. My grandfather had been with the 47th tank battalion (armored infantry) that was a part of General Patton's 3rd army that liberated the camp in April of 1945. Same place, same time (I wonder if they met?)- more than a hundred thousand Allied prisoners were freed. The American battalion my new friend belonged to were set to be executed that day.

The chain of events that led to us knowing such strange bits of trivia about each other is uninteresting and unimportant - ((long emo rant edited here))

So strange..


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In other boring-the-pants-off-everyone news: I am stomach churningly hungry and making rice. Bad early nineties techno hurts my head and slaughters my concentration, making me useless for much else besides internet moping and rice-making.