A.Garcia Profile

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Location: Harlingen, United States

Gender: M

Member Since: May 2021

Last online: June 2022

Open for read requests: Yes

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Vietnam Vet.  Served as a combat journalist in the Mekong Delta.  Now Retired and living the Rio Grande Valley of Texas.  Enjoy writing about my Vietnam experiences, about my Mexican-American heritage and legacy, and also enjoy writing essays and commentary on current events and the political situation we find ourselves in today.

Here's a bit more for those interested in who I am, why I write, and what I write: 


By Al Garcia

I am no different than you.  I have lived an ordinary life and, like you, I have met ordinary people and extraordinary people along the way.  I have experienced ordinary incidents and episodes along the way that may have altered or even changed the entirety of my life.  But this is something that occurs to each of us during the span of our existence.

And, like you, my mind is filled with pictures of faces and places, and of moments forever captured and retained as a part of who I was and who I am.  Again, it is something that we all share and we all possess.  But for me, there are times, sometimes too many times, when my mind begins to overflow with images and pictures, reflections and impressions that overwhelm my senses and my being.

I am lured away from ordinary tasks or chores or pleasantries, and somehow end up behind my computer to capture in words the images that I see or the revelations of times once lived, or the emotions once felt, or an occurring moment that in some way impacts me and the world that surrounds me.  And, for one brief moment, it is words that define and explain who I was or who I am.  It is words on a screen before me that reveal the images that I see in my mind, and it is words that I write that explain the raw emotion of a moment, and it is words that flow through me that attempt to evoke and provoke what I felt or faced or tried to forget, or am feeling at the moment. 

Great people have written great words -- words that have inspired generations, and words that have calmed the hearts and minds of a world in chaos.  And sadly, there are those that have spoken or written words that have inflamed and outraged a world on the edge. 

And, then there’s me.  Not great.  Not a scholar of the human mind, nor a philosopher of this or any other time.  I simply write the words that consume my mind and stimulate my thoughts.  I write the words that may display my anger or my rage, or words that may bring back times of joy and times of laughter.   And I write words that make me wonder and make me think, or words that bring back memories of war, and times and places that still wake me in the middle of the night. 

I write the words that make the world around me more comprehensible, more reasonable and logical.  I write the words that the world inside of me hears.  I write the words that echo in the shadows of my nights and words that find the shelter of the morning light.  I write the words that help bring to light the confusion, the disorder, the chaos and uncertainty that confronts us with the morning light, and that assaults our minds and our emotions into the waning hours of the night. 

I write the words of my childhood, of when I sat by my mother’s side and heard her read the Words that seemed to soothed her and inspire her.  The Words that gave her comfort and gave her peace, the Words she heard on Sunday mornings sitting inside a house built on the promises of unquestioned trust and love.

I write the words that may reveal the imagination of a farmer tending to his cotton field, or expose the vision of a leader guiding a nation or a people.  I write the words that may make a young man wonder and an old man cry.  I may write the words a child hears in the middle of the night, when shadows and noises in the dark invade the innocence of the night.

I write the words that explain and define the essence of one man, and that is me.  I write words that delineate the character and display the outline of my evolving mind and constant soul.  I can write the words that describe a rainbow after a morning rain, and words that express the emotion and revulsion at seeing the carnage of young men lying lifeless in a muddy field in war.  I can even write the words that can move a human heart and lift a soaring spirit to unimagined heights, and words that can plunge the mortal consciousness to realms beyond the bounds of understanding, like the abysses of war, of hate, of unbridled power, greed and deceit. 

I write the words that shade me from the deluge of fabricated realities by those determined to control the things I think or speak or see.  I write the words that shield the fragile beauty of the truth.  I write the words not spoken and not heard, that show the power of thought through the freedom of words.

One word at a time -- I write the words that no one speaks but thinks.

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