Bubble Wrap and WWII

I feel life decisions coming. I tend to get that feeling every now and again. Usually when the feeling starts it doesn’t go away until I make some huge life altering choice. Examples of past decisions are as follows (in chronological order): 1) Getting married, 2) having kids (well, just the one at first,) 3) going to work at Coats Electric in ’97, 4) going into Full-time Youth Ministry, 5) leaving Bluff Park UMC and moving to Paducah, 6) leaving Youth Ministry and moving back to Florence, 7) leaving St. James UMC. Those are the biggest. I have the feeling another one is coming. I hope it’s not anything like these others. Most of them involved moving.

Or it could just be gas.

Is there anything in the world more passively fun or more relaxing than a sheet of bubble wrap? I can sit and mindlessly pop those little bubbles for hours on end. Hand me a piece of bubble wrap and I’m like a lobotomy patient in an asylum. It’s relaxing, therapeutic even.

I’ve become obsessed with watching Band of Brothers lately. Spike ran a marathon of all 10 episodes Christmas Day. I TiVoed them and have watched at least one for the last few nights. Good stuff. Of course, I’ve always liked a good war movie.

One of my favorite movies growing up was The Big Red One. Big Red One starred Lee Marvin and Mark Hamill. It was set in World War II and followed the first infantry through Europe. I think that movie sparked my love of war films, especially World War II films.

One reason I liked the movie so much was the presence of Mark Hamill. This was sandwiched between Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back. So the “Luke Skywalker factor” definitely drew my brother and I to the movie. Another reason was a little more practical. My Great Uncle, Clifford Coats (my dad’s uncle,) fought in World War II and was a member of the Big Red One.

He was a bazooka solider. Over the years he told us a few stories of his time in Sicily, but not many. He told us about the time he rounded a corner only to be met with a spray of machine gun fire. He darted back around the corner, escaping unharmed. He then stuck just his bazooka around the corner and fired, taking out the machine gun. That’s the only story I remember. Maybe the only one he told.

Clifford was a Purple Heart recipient, but he wouldn’t tell that story. At the time I didn’t really understand why. He would let us look at his medals and badges. We, being pre-pubescent boys, ate it up.

Mark Hamill’s character was named Griff. We automatically assumed he was based on our Uncle Clifford. (Names changed to protect the innocent and all.) We liked to imagine our Uncle Clifford marching through Sicily, with Sergeant Lee Marvin leading him through the ancient buildings.

Clifford died when I was pretty young. I wish I’d been old enough to appreciate his stories. I wish he’d told of his stories.