Unless the Fly Deserved it
by Regis Boff
I grew up watching cowboys and cowgirls of very few words wearing white Stetson hats in the movies. It is how I unapologetically see myself even today, except for the number words, of course.
Our idea was to protect the weak and not to hurt a fly unless that fly deserved it. Unfortunately, for me and us, someone upstairs figured the Vietnamese deserved it.
Many of our Stetsons wound up on gravestones, and the rest of us spent our lives trying on new hats, groping for a more trustworthy guide under which to live.
Our new paradigm is being heard. Being quiet is lost to us now. Noise is our skin. A life unnoticed is the modern tragedy. From our new galloping glass elevators, we wave at and count our “friends.”