American Joe

"I am Free, no matter what rules surround me. 

If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; 

if I find them too obnoxious, I break them.  

I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.   J"

     He is  indeed rare today.  The old time Man.   Getting to be as rare as a politician that keeps his promise about protecting and defending the U.S. Constitution.   America has always been blessed with brave, visionary Manly Men like General Washington, Andrew Jackson, General Ulysses S. Grant,  Colonel William Travis, Louis L'Lamour, Andrew Carnegie, and Norman Rockwell to name the tip of the iceberg.

This small list is just a few of the legions of Men who built the greatest civilization ever known.   History recounts the deeds of such Men.  This great land is better for their efforts and their lives.  Great men have built America, but only a tiny fraction escape anonymity.   The majority of great men may not be famous, but they are not anonymous to their wives, their families, friends or brothers in arms however.  They are revered by those who do know them, whose lives were better because of them, whose lives they saved.  They have, just as critically, built the fabric of this great land, and still do exist today, thank God.   Only they don't hold press conferences after getting out of drug rehab;  ballads are no longer written about them;  and the greater culture today fears the Masculine heroism they embody.   Take note you Metros Guys out there;  and you Fellas that are well-meaning but without the sense of a bag of hammers.  Listen up to some of the real-life stuff your Old Man tried to teach you.  "One if by land, two if by sea," kinda stuff. 

     Well, this Old Doc has had the distinct privilege of knowing such a Man all his life, literally.   A real Man.   Manly Man.  American Man.  A modern day Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett really.   Man of few words, but mighty deeds.  No doubt you have neither heard nor read about this American.     Meet the American Joe.  

     Old Joe never had a publicist.  For years I had never known much in the way of specifics about the life of this quiet, yet imposing man.  From the scattered stories I have heard about his life, I bet it would make quite an epic Hollywood story.  Probably not though.  Never did LSD;  never had AIDS;  married to the first and same women over 60 years;  and loves America.  Nah, on second thought, who would want to see a primer on Manly honor and integrity.  Especially if it includes loving America.  Better do the movie on the lying, egg-sucking yellow dog in the White House.  Lots of lies, lots of betrayal, lots of cowardice, and actual traitorous episodes to be sure......I am not sure if Old Joe has lived a perfect life, but I have heard that once he made a mistake just to see what it felt like.

     

   
     Old Joe is 80 years old now.  Yeah, born when they were still using whale blubber to light up the home.  He still looks younger than some of the beat up partners I used to work with in my Medical Practice though.  And some of them were under 50!  My earliest memories are of this giant of a man, 6 foot 2 inches, baritone voice and lots of hair everywhere, especially on his silverback-sized arms.  I saw him only sporadically, but to this kid's imagination he was always Leonidas;  or Maximus Decimus Meridius, or Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar.  He was away a lot.  At sea.  At war.  Crappy outposts around the world, sometimes with his family, sometimes not allowed.  I knew he was a Military Man, a warrior, and he was the type of Man that made you want to immediately stand to, come to attention when he  walked in a room.  You'd want to pledge to him your sword.

     I know only wisps of rumors about this Man's younger days.  His Father was a stern man, came from Mexico to work the copper mines in Bisbee, Arizona, where Joe was born.  In those days the Mexicans dug out the copper with bare hands, so I suspect there was not a lot of frivolity on the part of Joe's Pop in those days.  Maybe Joe horsed around, played canicas, or broke windows, but I never heard of such stories.  Why I bet Joe was born with a "hammer in his little right hand."

John Henry, when he was a baby

Settin' on his mammy's knee

Picked up an hammer in his little right hand

Said, "Hammer be the death of me, me, me

Hammer be the death of me"

                                               -- "John Henry"

                                                   Tennesse Ernie Ford

To my childhood mind, Joe was always full grown anyway, rough and tough and hard to bluff.  Came out of a lightening bolt from Zeus's hammer (or "arse") and was kin to Thor.  When the Old Doc was born, Joe had already married my sister, and at age 17, had joined the Navy.

                                                   

  

He became a Seaman when ships were made of wood and men of iron.  Imagine, if you will, this strapping young sailor up in the crow's nest of the mainsail, whipped by lashing winds and rain from a deadly Nor'Easter, gripping the rail with his near frozen fingers.  AAAy Mate!

     Navy Joe was at sea a lot.  I didn't see him very often.  I did grow up for years with his kids though, and so I remember from time to time hearing phone calls to my sister.  Reception must have been tough, because she had to shout, and say "over" after every sentence.  A little boy, I imagined him out at sea, patrolling on the vastness of the Pacific; Moby Dick;  Neptune,  and an old movie I saw as a kid about Hercules, Jason and the Argonauts.

     For some reason, I have always known that Sailor Joe served in Vietnam during the War.  I never really had a chance to digest that much,  still being a young and fairly stupid young lad, self-absorbed and full of beans.  Thought he was fairly safe offshore in a big Cruiser.  But it wasn't until almost fifty years later that the Old Self-Centered Doc discovered that Joe had actually done two tours on the most dangerous of duties.  Yeah, while Doc was still growing his first few hairs in the groinality  region, Joe was on the rivers of VIETNAM,  a Riverine!  (Holy Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore!)

This Quiet Man simply doesn't share war stories, never did.  Actually I am not sure WHO knew about this, but I sure the heck didn't.  And I have subsequently actually seen the patch:

And I have seen the Beret.

All these years I have been watching movies about Viet Nam, and for sure most of them are revisionist, and place our country and our men in the worst possible light for many reasons.  None of them good.  But since seeing "Apocalypse" years ago, I have always thought that of all the places to fight in that war, the rivers were the scariest and most dangerous.  Yet, never a word.  Typical of the time I reckon.  Brave Men doing brave things, while the hippies sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, never combing their hair, stinking up the sidewalk, and hugging their Viet Cong dolls.

     Now, as your favorite Doc was growing up, he was separated from family for many years.  College, Med School and the like.  But there was a family grapevine, and ne'er did the Young Doc hear a word of this.  As I grew older, I rarely saw this Navy Man, and when I did, the gals were always yapping about this or that, with Joe quietly reading a magazine or watching the TV during family gatherings.  I always admired this.  I always figured he had more important things on this mind.  Yucking it up with a cackling room full of gals used to be unmanly;  now it is le rigueur Metro-Guy training.

     The War ended for Joe, and the next  news this little kid heard was that he was headed with his family to the resort outpost of the steamy, tiny, gecko-filled island of Guam.  I never spoke with Joe much at that age, but I had grown up with his kids.  I was sad they were leaving, especially his oldest son.  We were like brothers.  I ran away from the house when they came by to say goodbye.  Didn't want them to see my tears.    I didn't see them off.   And I never did see Joe's son again.  Joe's son died on Guam.

     Grieving Man. He transferred to San Diego, and came back stateside to bury his boy.  When Joe and my sister came to our house for the first time since arriving,  I could not face them because I was crying.  I grieved at how much pain this must have caused this proud Man.  I heard voices when they arrived.  And Joe suddenly filled the doorway of my room.  Hadn't seen him for ages.  Larger than life,  smile in his eyes.  Looked right at me.  I wanted to stand to.  TEN HUT!

     He probably said something.  I don't recall him saying anything, however.  I stopped crying.  He sat for a minute next to me.  Silent.  Calm.  Composed.  Giant.  Masculine.  I don't know if he was in uniform or in civvies.  Just knew that at that moment time stood still for me -- frozen, to this day..... everything would.... be.... f-i-n-e.....  All right.  Move on.  Live in the now.  He gave a grieving kid solace; calm; assurance;  courage.  Bucked me up. .  Never said a word.  Looking back I know his big heart was grieving, yet to this day I have never seen him show any self-pity at all.  Dignified, powerful, leader, Man.  This kid was lucky to witness the steady comportment of a real Man under trying circumstances.  Big.  Like a dream.  Big Joe.

     The years went by and Joe finished his 20 in the Navy.  Chief Joe, USN.  Makes sense.  Chief of the Boat.  The guy responsible.  The guy the Seaman look up to.  John Wayne "In Harm's Way," but fo' reals.  So imposing was this Brute that Doc's little girl would cry at just the sight of him!

"Made a future Captain cry"

The Young Doc was busy starting on the road to become a Doc.  Lots of school.  Self absorbed.  Lost track.   Navy Joe went right on and became Officer Joe.  Twenty years and two combat tours in the Navy was not enough to fulfill his sense of patriotic duty.  Protector.  Warrior.  Some Men are born to paint masterpieces, and some are born to defend.  Duty.  Honor.  Country.  He joined the U.S. Border Patrol.  He was a tracker.  In the field.  Protecting the integrity of our borders.  The very definition of a Nation.

     I spent some time with Joe and my sister, during his early years with the Border Patrol.  Confirmed all my childhood impressions.  Big Man.  Substantial Man.  No stories of his past or danger or adventures, but he sure knew how to josh a young man like Pre-Doc.  Joe taught me how to laugh at myself, because according to him, there was a lot to laugh at.  He made fun of just about everyone in my family, and this young sprout LOVED IT!  Banter.  Hearty.  Just what a young man needs, and rarely, if ever, gets today.  Completely politically incorrect.  Splash one! Splash two!  Splash me!  I missed most of the next 20 years of Joe's service to his country, however.  He did his 20 as a Federal officer, and I am sure he has some hair-raising memories.  I never heard any of them at the time.

     Well, one thing leads to the next, and the next thing I know it is Joe's 50th wedding anniversary, same sister.

Joe is 70 years old by then.  Retired from the Border Patrol 13 years prior.  Forty years of front line protective service on behalf of his country.  I finally heard more about his years as Officer Joe at his 50th wedding anniversary,  than I had in the previous 50 years of my life.  A group of his fellow officers were among the full auditorium honoring this couple.  I listened carefully when they spoke of their old partner.  I had never seen this Man in the spotlight.  In fact, when asked to make a speech, he couldn't finish.  Bowed his head, and excused himself.  He was talking about his wife at the time.  All his hardships;  all the sacrifices;  all the danger;  all the Men, all the confusion of battle;  the losses;  all the tough things he has seen and done.....he had simply never learned to talk about himself, his exploits, especially in front a hundred gawking admirers!

     Old Joe.  Navy Joe.  Officer Joe.  So humbled at the sight of his large family and the numerous friends in the audience. so unaccustomed to the spotlight.  Handed his written words to his oldest daughter to finish reading.  All dignity.  Controlled.  Humble.  Mighty.  Nothing weak about this Man.  Doc and Doc's Oldest Son in the audience felt our own testicles grow a notch just watching his example.  As Always.  Nothing contrived about his inability to do something he had never wanted to do.  Calm.  Composed.  Giant.  Masculine.

     Soon, a few of his mates took the podium.  Fellows in Arms.  Took their turns at their Old Bud.  A roast of sorts.  Since the Old Doc had experienced such a paltry view of this Man's life events, I took careful notice not only of what they said but how they said it.  Respect.  Brothers.  Admiration.  Reverence.  His Border Patrol partner of 20 years spoke;  also a Viet Nam veteran.  He said that when Joe first came to the border station, "everyone knew about him, and Nam.....and they were kinda intimidated...."  Now, this Old Doc has always been a desk jockey, not a Warrior, but even a Dumbo like yours truly can read between the lines of these guys.  Old Joe, in a room full of  Men;  in a room full of Warriors, Defenders, Protectors;  in a Navy full of Men;  among the Border Patrol, full of Men -- Old Joe was a BAD ASS!  A Bad Ass among bad asses.  YIKES!

     Old Joe has gone out to pasture now.  So old he now farts dust.  I guess he feels it took forty years of frontline service to merit publicizing his opinions.  Hell, I didn't even know he could write, what with dragging his knuckles on the ground all his life.  Recently Old Doc's son, Capt. Doc (U.S. Army, two combat tours in Afghanistan), was frustrated about some developments in the war, and Veteran Joe wrote back.  His words:

"Following the news accounts about the events in the middle east these past few days, I keep hearing references to "the Muslim World".  Since when do we care what religion our enemies are?  Europe is predominately Catholic but during WWII no one ever heard that we were at war with the Catholic World.  In Japan we didn't fight Taoists and in Viet Nam we didn't fight Buddhists. We fought the Enemy.  No matter who our enemies have been in the past, we didn't try so hard to analyze their motives and consider their sensibilities.When Japan attacked Pearl Harbor we didn't try to figure out why they didn't like us, we tried to figure out how to kick their ass. What's so different about the Muslims? When a gang of armed thugs wages attacks on US soil (such as an embassy) their religion should be of no concern to us. Sending them to meet their Maker should be our only concern. I don't care if they're "upset" over a movie or the price of goat meat. As soon as they start to attack they are the enemy, no other identification or reason is needed. This is not court where one might try to introduce mitigating circumstances, this is war, where we should seek nothing less than the annihilation of the enemy. As soon as they raise a hand against the USA their standing with their God should be of major concern to them, not us.

Sepius Exertus, Semper Fidelis, Fraters Infinitas."

To the point.  Direct.  Authoritative.  A Man who has sacrificed dearly for his country.  I was thinking of this Old Battle Horse when I was reading Robert Heinlein, "Starship Troopers" some years ago.  Heinlein describes a world where only Combat Veterans are Citizens.  Only they can vote. After reading Joe's words, my jaw dropped.  Does this Old Salt have a ghost writer?  Better than Krauthammer, fo' sho'.

     Old Joe folded up his wheelchair and took the Old Doc on an Elk Hunt a couple years ago.  Biggest thrill of my life.  Old Joe loads his own ammo, quite expertly.  Can put quarter-sized groups to 100 yards.  Made quite a reputation for himself on the Law Enforcement Shooting circuit, handguns.  National Champ, always won.  No kidding.  Seventy-seven year old Joe was scrambling around at 9000 foot elevation, lugging around a muzzle-loading .50 cal canon like he was some mountain goat.   All of a sudden I hear a sonic boom,  and just about pee'd my long johns.   It was Joe securing enough Elk steak for a year.  And, luckily he had another pair of long johns I could use.

    

      

       After the hunt, a few of us were sitting by the fire spinning yarns.  One of the hunters was a Texan, and he had brought down a nice buck.  His older-than-dirt 77-year old father,  wearing the same hat Newt wore on Lonesome Dove,  had been shuffling around the camp. too old to hunt.  His name was Javelina.  They called him Javelina because, you guessed it, he killed many a Javelina in his day.  He was yackin' away as Texans are wont to do, and started bragging about how well he got around for an Old Buzzard.  He turned to Joe, all ready to start joshing the "younger" Man about, "don't you wish you look this good when you're 77?"  He turned to Old Joe with a mischievous grin and asked, "How old are you Joe?"  Wthout changing expression Joe deadpanned, "Seventy Seven."  That Old Texan was speechless, probably for the first time in years.  Nearly fell off his chair.

     This Old BattleHorse is busier than most twenty-year olds.  Married to the same gal for over 60 years.    He doesn't play video games, and his only tat is a fading Anchor on his arm, common for Old Salts in his day.  He paints and does calligraphy, Japanese-style.  Lovely, and delicate pieces.  Regularly wins first prize at the State Fairs.  He is always taking this course or that at the local City College.  He learned to carve Metal Art, actually made a beautiful Stallion that decorates Doc and Mrs. Doc's living room fireplace.  He is an accomplished photographer, and dotes over a Mircat-looking dog named Princess.  Hell, in the Navy he used to even sew custom uniforms for his shipmates on the high seas to make extra money,   He has so much spare testosterone that he is fearless about showing his feminine side.

     In fact last year, at age 78, he won a First Place medal for the 65-and-over age group in the grueling, punishing Spartan Run in San Diego.  Check out the web site;  you will be impressed.  An obstacle course that leaves many a 20 and 30 year old gassed and out of the competition.  Yeah, the Old Barnacle passed a lot of them up on the way to the victory stand.   While standing for the award presentation, the official asked him how old he was.  When he told him, this official 'bout fell off the podium.  I mean, check out the tree trunks hanging off the Old Chief's shoulders.  Yikes!

     This Old Doc fancies himself  a sort of Old Dog too -- been around the block a few times myself.  But I was a bit mystified when Mel Gibson used the phrase "Warrior Poet" when honoring the Men who followed William Wallace into battle.  Once again, this Old Chief is instructive.  To Old Men and to Young Men.  I think this quote is a response to  la raza; parasitical fleas that  were giving him some shit.   His words:

"Mexico Gives Nothing, Takes Much

'Why do you betray your people?', someone recently asked me. Just because we are of the same color does not make us a common people. 

Since the day I was born, I have been an American. Who I am, what I have, and what I have done with my life, I owe it all to this country I call home: America.

Mexico has never been there for its people, and even less for an American like me. 

Mexico has never protected me from any foreign or domestic enemies. It has never taken care of me in times of need; it has never paid my hospital bills, never given me a job, has never given me an education and has not allowed me to collect welfare. It has not even given me a mere meal.

But Mexico has given to me the burden of supporting its people, and has made me tolerate its drug dealers, its human traffickers and criminals. We have had to endure many violations committed on us. We have had our national security violated by all who come here illegally; we have also seen murders, rapes, assault, theft and many more crimes committed. Some will say they don't do any of those crimes, that they are a good, honest hard working people. Coming here illegally is not a good way to immigrate; it is not an honest way. While many do not commit any federal crimes, they do take from us, by leaching off of our welfare system, overcrowding our hospitals, and depleting our school system of money that belongs to our children while not paying a cent into the American system.

Since the signing of SB1070, many civil rights leaders and liberals have come out and criticized the new law. If people want civil rights, where's the concern for the civil rights of all those who have been violated by some of the people coming over illegally? What about the civil rights of the murdered rancher in southern Arizona, and the endless list of victims who have been murdered, raped, assaulted, had their identity or their car stolen, or numerous other crimes?

America has become a prosperous nation and has been the envy of the world. And when a foreign government starts demanding that we treat its people with dignity and civility, we first must hold that government accountable to the same accord for its own people. For with civility we have treated the Mexican people, and have received hatred in return. For decades we have looked the other way while a tyrannical government has raped and pillaged its people, a people who with good intentions had fled their homeland to seek a better life here. They are a people who gradually have forgotten what the American dream is all about, and how to acquire it with dignity and respect.

Mexico has very different values than those that I have. If you think that all Mexican-Americans should hold allegiance to Mexico, it is like saying that all German-Americans should still have allegiance to Hitler's Nazi Germany.

So, a common color does not make us a common people.

Joe Cordova was born in Bisbee Az. Served in the U. S. Navy for 20 yrs. and the U.S. Border Patrol for 20yrs has never asked for anything for himself or his family."

     He was born into an immigrant family.  Different culture, different language.  "With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence,"  Joe threw all in and "pledged his Life, his Fortune, and his Sacred Honor" to this America, this greatest hope of all mankind.  He was born into the Navy to keep the Seas safe from bad guys, assholes and pirates.  He was born into the Border Patrol to preserve our Righteous Laws, and our Divinely inspired way of life.  He was born into a life as The American Man.  Manly Man.  Manhood.  Helped a crying kid grow up.  Big.  Like a Dream.  Big Joe.    Helped protect his Men in battle, on the line.  Helped a Nation become even mightier.  His family is proud.  The Old Doc is proud.  His Brothers are proud.  Proud of this Old Chief.  This Old Joe.  This American Man.  This American Joe......  Happy Birthday you  Old Cuss................Doc