"Student veterans finds community at UW-Madison."

An article in the UW student newspaper.

“To come straight off of that very intense and very rigid structure [of the military], it’s helpful to have a bunch of guys that can speak the same language and can empathize with what you’re going through because we’ve been there,” [one student vet said]....

“My first semester was definitely an eye-opener because when you’re in the military, they’re very direct about what they want you to do, and how they want you to do it. And in college, it’s just ‘yup, do your homework’,” said [another]. He added that he still holds himself to the standard set in his military training: Perfection is the standard, and excellence is only tolerated.

"But even as I bridle at memories of being objectified, I recognize the artistry with which Playboy treated the centerfold in its early years."

"In those days, the women were photographed as genuine pinups, wholesome and lovely – not anatomical gynecological studies. Playmates were the women in the frayed gatefolds that GIs of the Korean and Vietnam wars lovingly placed inside their helmets as talismans, their inspiration during the worst of times, their tender memories of home and American values. GIs and Glamour Girls were always an indivisible partnership."

Writes Victoria Valentino, who feels that after fleeting celebrity as a Playboy centerfold in 1963, she was not taken seriously as an actress and "never got to play Shakespeare’s eloquent, brave lead female character, Portia, in 'The Merchant of Venice,' on the big stage" and "never got to sing and dance on Broadway or win a Tony."

That's at The Wasthington Post, where the top-rated comment is:

Oh, what a shame! If Miss September hadn't lowered herself to pose nude for Playboy, she could have played Portia and won a Tony! (Whispering now: On the other hand, it's more likely that no one would ever have heard of her if she hadn't shed her duds for Hugh.)

And one more reality: Having been a soldier in Vietnam, I can assure the good lady that the soldiers who cherished her centerfold didn't do it "to sustain themselves through the trauma of war, they would imagine coming home to me and telling me about their experiences." No, Sweetie, they had something entirely different in mind, and your photo was a great source of stimulation.

Sheesh.

"There has been this band of brothers idea that there is something special about having only men, and adding women will ruin it."

"The study doesn’t bear that out.”

The [Marine] Corps approached the question of integration differently from other branches. It commissioned the nine-month ground combat study that put 300 men and 100 women in teams that performed combat skills ranging from shooting to hiking and climbing walls.

“Instead of seeing if women could meet standards, they essentially set up a race to see who was better,” [said  Ellen Haring, a senior fellow at the advocacy group and a reserve Army colonel]. The study found all-male units overwhelmingly outperformed integrated units in physical tasks — particularly tasks requiring upper body strength, such as evacuating an injured Marine from a turret or throwing a backpack onto a wall. But, the report said, integrated groups excelled at complex decision-making. It also concluded that adding women to all-male groups would probably improve the behavior of the groups as a whole.

"And then I saw you. You'd taken shelter under the balcony of the Old State House. You were wearing a teal ball gown..."

"... which appeared to me both regal and ridiculous. Your brown hair was matted to the right side of your face, and a galaxy of freckles dusted your shoulders. I'd never seen anything so beautiful.... We sat at the counter of that five and dime and talked like old friends.... After an hour or so, I excused myself to use the restroom. I remember consulting my reflection in the mirror. Wondering if I should kiss you, if I should tell you what I'd done from the cockpit of that bomber a week before, if I should return to the Smith & Wesson that waited for me. I decided, ultimately, that I was unworthy of the resuscitation this stranger in the teal ball gown had given me, and to turn my back on such sweet serendipity would be the real disgrace. On the way back to the counter, my heart thumped in my chest like an angry judge's gavel, and a future -- our future -- flickered in my mind. But when I reached the stools, you were gone. No phone number. No note. Nothing.... I'm an old man now, and only recently did I recount this story to someone for the first time, a friend from the VFW. He suggested I look for you on Facebook. I told him I didn't know anything about Facebook, and all I knew about you was your first name and that you had lived in Boston once...."

From a lovely piece in Craigslist's "Missed Connections," about a missed connection that happened way back in 1972 (via Jaltcoh).

It called to mind the little speech by an old man in "Citizen Kane," explaining what old men remember:

One day, back in 1896, I was crossing over to Jersey on a ferry and as we pulled out, there was another ferry pulling in... and on it, there was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on - and she was carrying a white parasol - and I only saw her for one second and she didn't see me at all - but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl.

I think a lot of old men read my blog. Sometimes I blog about what women are wearing and they crowd into the comments to say that it would never occur to them to think about what dress a woman had on....