The Ordered Life

Last Sunday, former Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore took a few minutes to pin captain bars on my Army uniform. I was promoted as a part of the active duty accessions process.

Judge Moore served as an Army captain with a Military Police unit during the Vietnam War. He was known as “Captain America” because of his commitment to doing the right thing and enforcing the rules in a place where military discipline was often lax.

I was deeply honored that Judge Moore–a man of strong Christian faith, a dedicated father, a statesman who has paid the price of true leadership, and a soldier who served his country faithfully by never violating his oath–pinned on my new rank.

Me with Judge Moore just before he pinned on the insignia.

Judge Moore as an Army captain in Vietnam in 1972. He is participating in a change of command ceremony in Da Nang with the 188th M.P. Company.

Here’s a nonsense poem I wrote in 1999 during my last semester in college at The University of Alabama.

The Frog I Met
(By Sparky)

Running in the fields today,
I met a bullfrog in the hay.
Red with yellow polka-dots,
He was an odd fellow from an odd lot.
Frog never jumped while I was there–
He was too busy trying to grow hair.
“A hairy frog?” I said.
“Why, you’re already yellow and red.
Isn’t that strange enough, you think?
But, you’d rather have fur like a mink?
You would be different then, I’ll say–
But could you so peacefully rest on the hay?
Or would your life become ugly and mean
As dozens came to see the frog who’s not green?”
Then the fat frog piped up and said,
“I want to grow hair all over my head.
There’s nothing you can do or say
To change my mind now or any day.
I know I’m yellow and red,
But I’ll lie right here in my bed.
I don’t care how many creatures come to look–
I’ll not go away to live by the brook.”
“Poor Mr. Frog,” I said,
It’s enough that you’re yellow and red,
But to be fuzzy, too–
That’s even strange for you.”
“Don’t you fret,” the bullfrog croaked,
“I’m not a horse, and I don’t eat oats–
But it won’t bother me to be hairy, no sir.
It won’t bother me to be covered with fur.
I’ll be warm in the cold–
So long as I don’t go bald when I’m old.
‘Fuzzy Frog,’ they’ll say
As they watch me sleep in the hay.”
Then I said, “Well, dear frog,
I see you won’t be happy hopping on a log.
I guess there’s nothing else I can do
To make it clear, to convince you.
You’re set on having hair on your head
And spending all day in the bed.
So, I’ll end my visit here, and go.
Just remember, I told you so.”