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You are an exceptional person, Duckitude. And that’s saying something, because this is West Seattle we’re talking about here . . .
What I meant about the memory was: What is your favorite memory from the Ducky Reserve? I know lots of people stop by and talk to you about it. Surely there must be a few interactions that stand out even among than the hundreds of happy memories you have. I’d like to hear about some of those.
Anyway, here’s an example of the influence you and the Duckies have had on me:
<anecdote>
A few years back, the peace group I belong to decided to do some counter-military recruiting at Chief Sealth High School, and my friend Karen and I volunteered to staff a table next to where the military recruiters were going to be.
Well, in the first place, I didn’t know what I was doing. In the second place, I’m scared of teenagers. So, as you can imagine, my confidence level was very high.
Fortunately, Karen knew of the good work Duckies have done for peace, and she helped us out considerably by bringing along a supply of Duckies to entertain the kids with on our first day at school.
“You’ve simply gotta have Duckies if you’re going to go up against the United States military,” she explained.
I have to say that I was skeptical, but I tried to humor her. “Bring all the Duckies you want,” I replied. “I’m sure they can stop a bullet just as well as we can.”
By the time we arrived at Sealth, the Marines were already there, glad-handing the crowd. Kids (even the anemic-looking ones) were getting down on the floor and “giving them 50” just to get their mitts on some trinket with “Marines” stamped on it.
Jeezus! I thought. What could we possibly do to match that?
I timidly set the Duckies out along with a stack of Peace Corps pamphlets. I must say the Duckies looked very self-assured in their rubber finery and stylish peace medallions. Still, I didn’t give them a hope in hell of saving our asses.
But wouldn’t you know it: at the first glimmerings of orange and yellow, the lunchroom traffic started veering wide around the military table and began flocking toward us. Tough-looking jocks with crew cuts were leading the way, saying things like: “So cool!” “Where’d you get the Duckies, dude?” “Can I have one?”
As the ultimate affirmation of our coolness, one of the kids even offered to do 100 push-ups in exchange for a Ducky. (Well, that’s a damned lie, actually, but for purposes of ‘continuity’ I’m keeping it in.)
I did have to turn down numerous offers of adoption, though. “Duckies need to stay in school,” I reminded the kids, “and as their legal guardian, I can’t even let them leave this table.”
</anecdote>
Anyway, that’s my personal favorite Ducky memory. —The part that’s not lies, that is.
I’m for Duckies, Duckitude, because they’re for peace—even when peace is the hardest thing in the world to be for.
And I’m for you, too, Duckitude.
‘Cuz you’re all about the Duckies.
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