Uncle Gail

A cardboard box in my office brings memories flooding back.

In your Chevy, you raced up and down
the main street of your home town.
Your ol' car was souped up and loud.
Grandpa and Grandma were so proud

to see you dressed up in Navy blue.
I was just a kid you hardly knew.
That day you left to sail the oceans,
we were filled with many emotions

When you stepped aboard the plane
you didn't look back, you didn't complain.
We waved good-bye not knowing when
or even if, we would see you again.

Your letters were few and sketchy at best.
But your duty was clear and you didn't jest.
Your job was in the hold, moving cargo all about,
a task with leaky barrels, you had to carryout.

With time you were able to come home,
but the big ships, they called you to roam.
You loved the rolling decks on the big lake,
up North foam trails mark your wake.

You didn't know you were a sacrificial lamb
while you sailed off the coast of Vietnam.
The liquid from the barrels that you were wadin' in
was deadly Agent Orange fittin' you for a coffin.

A cardboard box in my office brings
memories flooding back. Of things
long ago and of my sea-tossed
uncle forever to us lost.

After all these years you have come to visit,
but you are awful quiet as you sit
in the little urn in the cardboard box.
Guess it's never too late for long talks.