The Frog Walk

In a footnote to yesterday's post, I mentioned an incident that took place between me and a stuffed frog many years ago. Naturally, Arizona Dave - who has probably known me longer than most of you - immediately popped up and wanted the details. And so ...

Let us return to those golden days of yesteryear ... somewhere around 1975 ... when Bilbo was a Second Lieutenant in the US Air Force, stationed at Barksdale Air Force Base in Bossier City, Louisiana ...

Those of you who have never been in the service need to understand up front that a Second Lieutenant is the very lowest of the officer grades. A Second Lieutenant is generally tolerated by those both above and below him in the chain, who credit him or her with the intelligence and abilities of a single-cell animal, and gets about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield on an average day.

Now that we all understand that ...

In the year 1975-ish, Second Lieutenant Bilbo lived with his wife and little son in a house on the air base and walked to and from work every day, sometimes by way of the Shopette, a small on-base convenience store that sold ... among other things ... toys.

Okay, now the stage is set for the story ... we have a Second Lieutenant ... who walks to and from work on base ... by way of the Shopette ... where toys are sold ...

On the day in question, I received a call at work from my wife*, who wanted me to stop by the Shopette on the way home and pick up a toy she'd seen that she wanted for our son. Without thinking, I agreed.

At 4:30 PM, I left work and walked a few blocks from my office to the Shopette, where I purchased the requested toy ... a stuffed frog. But this was not just any stuffed frog ... this stuffed frog was about five feet long, colored in gay splotches of vivid green, black, and yellow, with goggly eyes, a big, happy smile and a bright red tongue hanging out. I had written the check** and was on my way out of the store before I realized that it might not be the best idea for a Second Lieutenant to be walking across the base - in uniform - during the afternoon rush hour - with a five-foot green and yellow frog under his arm.

And it got worse.

I was standing at a major intersection on the base, a Second Lieutenant in uniform, with a five-foot, green-and-yellow-and-black frog under my arm, being pointed and snickered at by all the passing traffic while waiting for the light to change so I could walk the last few blocks home, when the hands of the clock reached 5:00 PM and - just as on every military base around the world, the first notes of Retreat began to play ... followed by the National Anthem as the flag on the headquarters building was lowered for the day.

Military etiquette requires that if you are outdoors when Retreat sounds, you immediately stop (if you are in a car, the driver stops and gets out), face the flag (or in the direction of the music, if the flag isn't visible), and stand at attention. And when the National Anthem begins to play, you salute.

And there I stood, at a major on-base intersection, a Second Lieutenant in uniform, with a grinning, five-foot, green-and-yellow-and-black frog under my arm, as The Star-Spangled Banner began to play.

I unceremoniously dropped the frog, which lay there next to me (without saluting) as I rendered the honors to the flag.

When the last notes of the music finally died away, I dropped my salute as professionally as possible, recovered my frog, and walked home with all the dignity I could muster with a five-foot, green-and-yellow-and-black amphibian under my arm.

As I remember, little Jason loved the frog, and it took me months to live down the walk home from the Shopette.

And that is the story of Bilbo's frog walk.

Have a good day. Don't carry any large stuffed frogs if you can help it.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

* This was pre-Agnes.

** This was back when we used to write checks for things, rather than swiping a card through a reader.