Jim Mazzanti

I want to talk about something that is 180 degrees out from this blog. I'd like to go back forty-two years. I'm an eighteen year old Marine and I've just walked into a large ambush on Mutters Ridge, Vietnam. We fought for six hours, pinned down behind only the curve of the hill we needed to take. One Marine got his belt shot right off his back. He jerked up to a sitting position and took another round through his glasses and down his cheek. He never stopped laughing in amazement the whole time. We became good friends over the next six months until I went to another unit. His name was Jim Mazzanti and he died this month of cancer. He fought it like the Marine he was. But, he lost this one. For some reason, this death hit me hard. I've seen many friends die during and since the war but this was different. I only saw him once since 1968 but that didn't diminish the friendship in my heart. Mazzanti was a Marine's Marine. He could not be beaten and yet in the end he lost the one fight none of us ever win. That's what bothered me about this one over all the rest, if Jim could be beaten, so can the rest of us, so can I. As most combat veterans, I never expected to live to be this old. Here I am though, 60 and I have to think about how much time I have left. If I was gone tomorrow what would I leave undone?
Live life like you have no time left.