Yesterday afternoon a friend called me to ask about someone that I knew, Col. Nick Rowe. She had read about him on a news website in relation to an anti-Kerry article.
Few people in the twentieth century could have defined surviving SHTF like Nick Rowe. Col. Rowe spent the sixties in Vietnam, five years as a P.O.W. I met Col. Rowe during the period when most of America was trying to forget Vietnam and those who sacrificed there. He came to my university a couple of times a year to speak. Most of the audience were bored R.O.T.C. students forced to attend. When Col. Rowe finished speaking the first time that I heard him, only a handful of folks remained to talk to him; I was one. He so impressed me that every time he came to campus I would meet him after he spoke to talk privately. Fortunately, I kept my mouth shut and morphed into a sponge, memorizing his every word.
Col. Rowe was not a big, hulking, RAMBO-ish, steroid puppy, commando type. He was about 5'6" and of very average build. If you passed him on the street you would assume that he sold Buicks or plumbing parts, or maybe that he ran a diner. When he spoke you had to concentrate to hear him.
He bore no hatred against anyone. He was one of the few truely forgiving people that I have met. He held no hatred against his captors. I told him that I could never be as forgiving as he was.
At the first opportunity I would always turn the conversation to survival lessons that he felt were most helpful. The one SHTF skill that he believed was the most valuable of all was flossing with a grass fiber; not shooting, looting or fighting, just taking care of your teeth.
He was a better man than the world will likely ever know.
Few people in the twentieth century could have defined surviving SHTF like Nick Rowe. Col. Rowe spent the sixties in Vietnam, five years as a P.O.W. I met Col. Rowe during the period when most of America was trying to forget Vietnam and those who sacrificed there. He came to my university a couple of times a year to speak. Most of the audience were bored R.O.T.C. students forced to attend. When Col. Rowe finished speaking the first time that I heard him, only a handful of folks remained to talk to him; I was one. He so impressed me that every time he came to campus I would meet him after he spoke to talk privately. Fortunately, I kept my mouth shut and morphed into a sponge, memorizing his every word.
Col. Rowe was not a big, hulking, RAMBO-ish, steroid puppy, commando type. He was about 5'6" and of very average build. If you passed him on the street you would assume that he sold Buicks or plumbing parts, or maybe that he ran a diner. When he spoke you had to concentrate to hear him.
He bore no hatred against anyone. He was one of the few truely forgiving people that I have met. He held no hatred against his captors. I told him that I could never be as forgiving as he was.
At the first opportunity I would always turn the conversation to survival lessons that he felt were most helpful. The one SHTF skill that he believed was the most valuable of all was flossing with a grass fiber; not shooting, looting or fighting, just taking care of your teeth.
He was a better man than the world will likely ever know.
