About CaptNaturalLee

Who Was That Guy? This is a question I, along with thousands of others, have asked since the day of my birth in Portsmouth, Virginia back in 1951. So far few have even come close to the truth, including myself. To say the least I am a complicated man with many facets to my personality, yet I am simple in my heart. Years of adverse conditions may have hardened my exterior, but I have remained soft in soul, and meaningful in action. One could only imagine the life I have lived, for in these days of modern transportation little is known of the ways our forefathers and foremothers got from place to place. I wanted to find out what it was like and I did, to some extent. I was a post product of the baby boom in the early 1950's, and born unto the couple, Mel and Alice Young. The home was not a stable place for me and what I can remember of my childhood is vague and seems surreal. My mother was a strong woman who threw my father out when I was a very young, Young. His drinking had a lot to do with it, and would eventually be the cause of his demise. Fortunately I have refrained from following in those footsteps, though in my early years I made a short lived attempt. I get sick when I drink, and I don't like to be sick! The mother of my older sister, and two younger half brothers was a strong woman of high moral fiber, a Christian, and a very good provider. The lessons she taught me and my siblings have helped to make our lives better. All of us except for my youngest brother who at the young age of 21 died due to mysterious circumstances I believe to be drug related, but can't prove. My older sister, in many ways has turned into an exact duplicate of my mother, though she is denial. I have strived not to resemble either my mother nor my father, however my mother's influence has molded me in ways that were good for my spirit. Though I don't follow the Christian belief the moral values taught me in the Christian household did shape the way I am today. It took years for me to finally come to the conclusion that what my mother said was right, true and said with devout love. I was inspired to write this poem when I was in my early 40's that basically tells what my Momma truly meant to me. WHAT MY MOMMA SAID Walk with kings and dine with paupers, is what my momma taught me. "No man is any greater or less than you. Just be what you want to be. Don't give up hope, and trust in yourself. It's every persons right to be free. You've got to be your own man, my son. Learn this lesson from me." I've always remembered what my momma said. I'll take it to the grave with me. Her wisdom, and her understanding of life, I will cherish eternally. To say that I was a "good boy" during my childhood would definitely be a false statement. There was little I didn't try to get away with, and little that I actually got caught at, though some may beg to differ. Even in all of my mischievousness I did my best not to hurt anyone, except for when I was put in a fight that generally I never started. Then I would get mean and nasty, and the opponent would feel the wrath of a wild animal in defense of his domain (My well being). Getting hurt physically has been a plague following me throughout my life, and I have acquired a high tolerance for pain, both emotional and physical. The physical pain has been easy to build a resistance to, but the emotional pain has been something that I still have to fight with just to stay alive in spirit. There are two basic sides to this ol' Saddle Tramp. The first is my serious side that tries it's best to keep me in line, and the second is the child in me that struggles to throw me into fits of laughter whenever it can. The latter generally rules and I find myself in some pretty funny situations because of it. It is with serious humor that I try to deal with life. If I laugh at my mistakes I can cover up it's serious implications to me emotionally. It's hard to keep a straight face all the time! Into my teenage years the way I handled life was maintained as usual, and my sense for adventure began to emerge. From the time of my 1st year in school, to my last days of high school, I looked for things that weren't there, but I felt there might be something to see, do and act upon. If the day wasn't going as I wanted I simply changed things. Sometimes my decisions took me far beyond where I thought it would go, and in the end I would be surprised at the exciting outcome. I was willing to try most anything within reason, and my reasoning was lacking in most cases. "Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do or die!" said a famous person. I was never afraid of dying, and still I am not. I suppose that lack of fear has opened a world to me that many folks only dream of, and never will they take the step into the unknown. It is the unknown that intrigues me, not frighten me! It is without question that I am a patriot to our country, the "United States of America." Even with all its flaws it still is the greatest country on earth in which to live. Just ask all those who keep trying to get in, and those who are so jealous as to try and tear it down. I joined the US Army in 1969 to do my part, just as my father, uncles and cousins had done. My father had nearly made a career of the army, but his drinking caused him to make some pretty unwise decisions that got him discharged (honorably) before he could retire legitimately. My father's brother, whom I am named after, lost his life on D-day in World War II. So following tradition, I joined up and went on to do well, yet it wasn't meant for me to be a career soldier, so I got out on my own terms, unlike my dad. This was the first time that I noticed that I was following in my dad's footsteps to some degree. There was one major difference, I chose to leave the army! The war in Vietnam was underway when I went into active service, and I found myself in that far off land that I had only heard about on TV. It was a culture shock for me and from the time I hit Oakland, California to embark on the army's mission, I got a big grin on my face that stayed there until I touched back down on American soil. Everyone in Vietnam had a nickname, and mine was bestowed upon me by "Rabbit", a long drink of water from Tennessee. Rabbit called me "Sunshine". Partially because I was from Florida, and partially because I smiled constantly. I smiled because I was scared to death, and I had every right to be. This was war, and people were dying, and getting wounded every minute of every day. This was something that I would experience first hand in a very short time. On my 23rd day "In Country" I became a casualty being wounded by shrapnel from a mortar that awoke me from a peaceful sleep at Fire Base Sally in the Teh Ninh province. It was an explosion that would ring in my ears for the rest of my life. Still the smile was there, sort of brought on by the large amount of morphine in my system, and somewhat because I knew I hadn't been killed! I was relieved to have survived the war, and felt like I had done my part, so it was time for me to go home, even though I hadn't been in combat long enough to get my uniform dirty. They had their shot at me and they missed, so I was going home the first and only one in my family to be wounded in battle since World War II. Upon my return to the US I married my high school sweetheart. I still maintained my patriotism by getting married on the 4th of July in 1970. For another year and a half, or so, the two of us lived as military folk spending most of that time in Aschaffenburg, Germany. It was a good time in my life, but I didn't want the military life as a career at that time, so when it came time for getting out, I jumped at the chance. I had made the rank of Sergeant before I went home, and was proud of my service. However, the civilian life would proved to be much rougher than I had imagined for a young man with little education and skills, and who became a father with a family to support. Making a living in the early 70's in Florida was rough for me, and I thought about what a great deal it was to have all those benefits the service offered, so after a struggle of about a year and a half I went back into the army with the goal in mind to make it my career. (Just like dear ol' Dad?) We ended up in Germany once more where I made my way through the mud and slush as a Combat Engineer for a couple of years, hating every moment. By 1975 I had gotten another stripe and was on my way back to the states for schooling in the art of getting folks to get along. Though I had been working as a Race Relations Facilitator for my last 2 years in Germany I had only had rudimentary schooling and was in need of more to properly do the job. It was something I enjoyed doing, however many of the upper echelon folks didn't much care for the program and the harassment was much too much for me to have to deal with, so I quit! Not just the program, but the army as well. It took a while, but the honorable discharge came through and once again I was among the civilian population. A few years later my marriage turned sour and I took to the sky to spread my very weak wings, but as time went on I grew stronger, and my will to fly strengthened along with my spirit. I had put my time in trying to be the "correct" kind of person that society expected of me, but I bored easily and settling down was not an option that I could see myself taking seriously, for the most part. I did give it a very hard try a few times, and even went so far as to go into business for myself as an agricultural engineer, but that too wasn't meant to be. My business failed, and I lost my second wife all in the course of a few months, all because of my decision to take to the saddle and ride across the United States from Florida to Alaska. "What a hair brained idea" it was, or so I was told by many, however not all felt that way, including myself. I sought a new direction in life that would allow me the opportunity to express myself artistically and challenge me physically. So, what better way for me to become a writer could there have been than riding a horse from coast to coast? That was my thinking anyway. I had no real idea as to what I was going to encounter on such a journey, or whether or not I was going to reach my destination alive. All I knew was that if I didn't give it my all I would not even make it out of the state of Florida. I did give my all, and it took even more, this monster I created, Yea, I called it a monster because for the next 12 years (1987-2000) it would devour all I was, and spit me out like a piece of slimy cud, and who wants a piece of slimy cud from a monster's mouth? So, here I am in 2006, in Georgia, working as a Survey Technician, eking out a living, and keeping my head above water....barely. One thing I have ALWAYS maintained through all that I have been faced with.... my dignity. That is something that NO ONE can take away from me! For the next two years I am going to make the best of my situation, try and write down what I set out to write about and hopefully....hopefully....someone will recognize that I have a tremendous story to tell! Oh, I forgot to mention that I took a short hiatus about 2 years ago and floated my canoe from Atlanta, Georgia to Apalachicola, Florida. You can take the adventurer out of the adventure, but a dream will live on forever, and I have a lot more years to go before I hang up my boots for good.