There were about eight of us in the group. We were pretty diverse but of course all veterans of the debacle
known as Vietnam. I know it’s a country and there are wonderful people there and good food but to us it was a chapter in our lives we would rather forget and unfortunately we will never forget it. It will haunt us forever.
Karandy was demonstrating an Earl Monroe spin move on the day room floor. We didn’t have a basketball court but we had a ball. We put imaginary moves on each other and tried to remember what it was like.
Herman was in horrible shape , he was a black dude from the projects in Albany and he had been an Army Ranger and seen some shit. He hung with us and played with us but sometimes he was just plain gone. He was taking some heavy meds and sometimes he wasn’t there.
When my parents came to visit he joined us and they brought lunch and what not and we treated him like part of the family, but then he would just disappear.
We sometimes called him “Herman the Helicopter” , a legendary street basketball player who could supposedly pick a fifty cent piece off the top of the backboard. Probably not but just maybe. Probably Herman won’t recover from this shit but just maybe.