About This Blog ~ This blog is about a series of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender (GLBT) super-hero, sci-fi, fantasy adventure novels called Rainbow Arc of Fire. The main characters are imbued with extraordinary abilities. Their exploits are both varied and exciting, from a GLBT and a human perspective. You can follow Greg, Paul, Marina, Joan, William, and Joseph, as well as several others along the way, as they battle extraordinary foes or take on environmental threats all around the globe and even in outer space. You can access synopses of the ten books using the individual links on the upper, left-hand column.





The more recent posts are about events or issues that either are mentioned in one or more books in the series or at least influenced the writing of the series.










Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Kenny Juliano outside his BOQ room with his Chevy

Kenny marched to a different drummer.  When I knew him, he was in the Instructor Shop, training or re-training missiles crews.

In sunny weather, he would sit in a lounge chair outside his BOQ, which was the former two-man room building, directly behind where he is standing.  He would simply lie there and bake all summer long.  Usually, though, he was very tanned on his front side only.  His back side would be many shades lighter--why he did not often turn over was another of his quirks.  He also worked on or cleaned up his car, which he almost never drove.  He usually walked everywhere, even if weather did not always permit.

He almost always had a sunny disposition, and he laughed a lot.  One of the cheeriest guys in Minot.

In meetings, I would glance over and he was often rocking in place, as if he were listening to music from headphones that nobody else could hear.  He was a really nice guy.  He also took an early out and returned to Southern California, near San Diego, probably in 1977, along with Tim McConnell and others.


Missile Career
                 For Kenny Juliano
                 ...we miss your frequent laughter

I sense the tensions
aging throughout our existence.

This is not a normal competition.
From the bitter to the crazy,
we are all here, longing to be elsewhere,
as if where we beach ourselves
is the difference.
Whenever we lose any smiling
to that perpetual leaving,
a slowly saddening loneliness,
the missing of men in combat,
unsettles.

 

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