They shall not grow old,
As we who are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun
And in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.

I am now officially a member of the Returned and Services League, an Australian veterans organization. The verse above is recited as one of the membership rituals, followed by a minute of silence. The Subic chapter had about fifty in attendance for yesterday’s meeting, and several familiar faces were in the crowd at the gathering place, the Rock Lobster bar (before it opens to the public). One of the interesting aspects of this group is that all nationalities, regardless of veteran status, are welcome to join, unlike similar organizations such as American Legion or Veterans of Foreign Wars. I didn’t know much about the RSL other than seeing its members around town on Tuesday meeting days in their distinctive white shirts.

And now I’m one of them:

So, what inspired me to join this respectable group? Swan’s sister and brother-in-law are active in the organization. Swan talked about the many community charity projects the organization is involved with, including orphanage support, medical outreach programs, and providing food and other provisions for those in need. My membership dues (1200 pesos a year) assists with those activities. The weekly meetings also feature raffles to raise funds (I spent 700 on tickets yesterday). So, it’s all for a good cause, and I’m happy to do my part.

After the meetings, the group does a pub crawl, although I chose not to participate last night. I thought Swan was going to join me, but she had other plans. So, I went my own way and wound up at Sloppy Joe’s. Jim showed up a bit later, and we did our own bar visitation spree, enjoying Mugshots, Blue Butterfly, and Wet Spot before calling it a night.

And I spent more on beer than lady drinks, so that’s progress!

Swan and I talked through our misunderstanding this morning. Bottom line, she is just too uncomfortable to be seen with me out and about in our gossipy little town. We are planning a visit to San Antonio tomorrow to have a little one-on-one time.

And I saw something else moving about down below:

I didn’t do the Wednesday Walkers group hike today because I wanted some time with Swan, and I’m also tired of hiking in the rain every damn day. Hopefully, there will be some dryer beach walking in San Antonio.

If Facebook is any indication, this Barbie movie is a big deal, what with the gals all dressing up in pink to go to the theatre. My brother Greg posted this, which I felt compelled to share:

And then there was this:

Two tall trees, a birch and a beech, are growing in the woods. A small tree begins to grow between them, and the beech says to the birch, ‘Is that a son of a beech or a son of a birch?’ The birch says he cannot tell, but just then a woodpecker lands on the sapling.

The birch says, ‘Woodpecker, you are a tree expert. Can you tell if that is a son of a beech or a son of a birch?’

The woodpecker takes a taste of the small tree and replies, ‘It is neither a son of a beech nor a son of a birch. It is, however, the best piece of ash I have ever poked my pecker into.

Bada Bing! I’d just add you can always tell a dogwood tree by its bark.

That’s it for now. I’ll be heading into town a bit later to keep the bars in business and maybe disappoint some bargirls with my new cheap Charlie attitude. Or not. We’ll see.