I shined them the way I learned in boot camp in 1963. A cotton ball. A little water. Small circles.
Over and over. Until you can see your face in the toe.
It took me forty minutes. My hands aren’t what they were.
I put on the jacket.
It still fit. For the most part. It was a little tight across the middle. A little loose across the
shoulders. I’ve lost some muscle and gained some other things since 1991.
But it buttoned. All six buttons.
Then I sat down at my dresser with my ribbon bar and a ruler.
I pinned it to the left breast. Exactly one-eighth of an inch above the pocket. Centered. Level. I
checked it with the ruler three times.
I pinned my name tag on the right side. Black plastic, white letters. HALLORAN.
The collar was the hard part.
My fingers don’t bend right anymore. Arthritis. I tried four times to fasten the hook and eye at the
