Somewhere in this unsure world we find a fascinating globe of humanity between the security of childhood and that also of the second childhood normally referred to as a sailor. Sailors come in all sizes, shapes and colors. Sailors are found on ships, on shore, far across the seas, in bars, in jail, in love, in dark alleys, fighting Marines, and last but not least, always in debt.

Girls love them, citizens tolerate them, Marines hate them and the government supports them. The sailor wears his mark of bravery by scars on his head and tattoos on his arms. He guards his country and its seas with a playboy magazine in one hand and a bottle in the other.

A sailor has the speed of a turtle on the ship and the energy of an atom bomb when on leave. He has the slyness of a fox for getting out of work and the brains of a squirrel when it comes to women. He can tell you stories to make your head spin with the utmost sincerity of a clown, and has the tenderness of a Casanova.  When he wants something, it usually has to do with his liberty card or a girl.

A sailor likes: Women, Females, Dames, Ladies, and the opposite sex. He dislikes: Wearing his uniform, his superior officers, Navy chow and getting up at reveille. The sailor likes to spend some of his money on women, booze, poker, and the rest he likes to spend rather foolishly.

Yes a sailor is a magic creature you can lock out of your house but not of your heart; you can mark him off your mailing list but not out of your mind.

He is without a doubt your blurry eyed good for nothing bundle of worries but your shattered dreams are of no value at all when he knocks on the door and says, “I’M HOME”.

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