Greetings From Afghanistan "That Special Time Of Year" or "Hark the Slumbering Prolific Patriarch"

Greetings From Afghanistan "That Special Time Of Year" or "Hark the Slumbering Prolific Patriarch"

A Story by Calwarr


Howdy friends and neighbors! I'm Shawn Kent, and I would like to share for you a series of letters, and emails I sent home from Afghanistan during my deployment there with the US Army. Years ago I spent a fun filled year in sunny southern Baghdad. I noticed that a lot of soldiers were writing home about their manly exploits, that seemed specifically designed to scare the pants off their loved ones. So I decided to throw gritty reality out the window and write a fun, semi-factual series of letters home to keep my family and friends smiling Well, here we go again. This time our destination is Afghanistan, and I'm showing up a few miles from the Pakistan border, a complete stranger to a unit already deployed. Hopefully there will be a lot of action to share with my readers, but not to worry, I can always make something up!

So without further ado, I give you..........

Greetings from Afghanistan, where the men are men, the women could be anybody, and the goats are legal tender. So much has been going on here I am just bursting at the seams with topics to write about. However due to it being that “special” time of the year, I thought I would write about something more “appropriate” to the season. I am NOT talking about Christmas!!!

There comes a time in human events when we all must take pause, and reflect on a life well spent. To gather together, and celebrate a man who has had an impact on us all, helped to shape us, and guide us. A man who has stared at the mountain, and faced with the question; “Will it go?” answered fearlessly; “Yes it will!” A warrior who has conquered rushing rivers, tempestuous oceans, monolithic mountains, and poofy little art shops across the nation. A man, who's business acumen has taken him from the smoke stained halls of GMAC in the mid-west, to the gleaming immaculate business parks of TMC on the west coast. A dude, who glides across waves, races down mountain-bike trails, and scurries after feline embattled grandchildren, in the quest for joint pains, that few can imagine. A patriarch, who's formidable progeny are feared in the deserts of Iraq, the mountains of Afghanistan, and … er, the greater Orange County area. A soul, who has walked the earth long enough to have experienced countless ridiculous clothing and hair styles, and, at least one very silly mustache. Yes Father it is time to celebrate YOU on your birthday!

One of the things I admire most about James Kent I, is that he lives each day to the fullest, whether he is sipping beer, and working in his yard, sipping wine, and reading a book, sipping vodka, while putting the finishing touches on his latest fruity little masterpiece, sipping a martini, while sharpening Ginsu knives, sipping Kahlua, while juggling fire, sipping White Russians, while careening down Pacific Coast Highway in a stolen Aston Martin, or sipping turpentine, while listening to artists (and I use that term loosely) like John Mayer, soothingly hissing out his lyrical genius (actual lyrics that I am not making up:

"I can tell you this much/I will marry just once/And if it doesn't work out/Give her half of my stuff." (I don't even know what to say about this's's just awe-full.)


"She keeps a toothbrush at my place/As if I had the extra space/She steals my clothes to wear to work/I know - her hairs are on my shirts." (How much space exactly does a toothbrush take? Maybe date women with smaller teeth who shed less. In fact, you may be dating a terrier from that description. Please don't write any more music. Please.)

The James Kent I " James Kent II perspective.

Fifty-seven may sound ancient to the shallow, and simple minded, and, indeed it is. But when we look at age we must get past the mere numbers, and delve deeper to understand it's true meaning. For instance, my son James Kent II,(The James Strikes Back) is often referred to as 4 months old, whereas James Kent Pace I, would be 684 months old. The numbers would suggest a VAST difference between the two, however when we examine the two subjects closely, we notice that they both have approximately the same amount of hair.

James Kent II, has only been around about 120 days. So it can be said that even pooping three times a day, he has only graced us with about 360 bundles of diaper joy. James Kent I, on the other hand, at the same three per day, (the majority of these NOT in diapers, at least not yet) has produced 62,415 episodes in his life. Again, the numbers are deceiving. I promise you with almost 100% certainty that James II, is more likely to get poop on you, than the far more prolific James I.

James Kent II, being a baby, sleeps approximately 16 hours a day, almost THREE HOURS more than his mother used to.(By the way whoever writes those baby books fails to tell you that they sleep those sixteen hours in about twelve minute shifts, and then want to be fed, like a little milk vampire, until their mother is sucked dry, then changed, bounced, walked in circles till grooves are worn in the floor, while a wild eyed father lists along like an extra from a low budget zombie movie, making up lyrics to kid songs, since he never really paid that much attention to them before, and due to the fact that he is in the Army about half of them are bastardizations of running or marching cadences so blue, that they can actually peel paint off the wall if you sing them inside, and sound really strange when you substitute phrases like “pulled out my M60, and I begin to SPRAY!” with “go to sleep now, tomorrow we will PLAY!”, which is indicative of how desperate you have become that you are now bargaining with an infant that can not yet, technically speaking, understand anything that you are saying, promising them, that they will never have to clean their room, and that they can get tattoos the size of emergency road signs before their fifteenth birthday, and that you will buy them, IPODS, IPHONES, ICARS, and IPRIVATEJETS if they will only GO TO FREAKIN SLEEP!) Anyway, little James Kent II, has slept about 75 days of his life so far. L-A-Z-Y! James Kent I, sleeping about 6 hours a night, has slept 124,830 hours. That's right folks, James Kent I, has literally slept over 14 YEARS, most of that on a chair in the living room, nostrils flared defiantly at the ceiling. These statistics show, that the elder James is actually over 13 years lazier than an infant.

From these examples we can clearly see, that numbers can be deceiving, or age is just a number, or whatever, I actually forgot what my point was after the first couple of sentences, but none of that changes the fact that James Kent I, like all good movies worthy of a sequel, will live on in our hearts for years to come, even after the echoes of his FOURTEEN FREAKIN YEARS of snoring have faded away.

Father I salute you, and happy birthday.

Your Son, Shawn Kent! (The Only)

© 2011 Calwarr

Transition into psychosis
A glimpse into active addiction

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on June 19, 2011
Last Updated on June 19, 2011
Tags: Army, birthday, father, soldier, afghanistan, war, letters, journal, satire, comedy, funny



Clarksville, TN

Greetings and salutations, it's your friendly neighborhood Calwarr here. I am a professional soldier, father and snappy dresser. I have always had the writing bug and lately have decided to spend more.. more..


A Chapter by Calwarr


A Chapter by Calwarr


A Chapter by Calwarr