The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 87: A Town Where Anything Can Happen

Episode Date: December 12, 2017

What does a former POW do when he returns home from an unpopular war?  Stand naked in the town square of course!

The ocean delights us. Some marvel at the colorful world below the surface. The ocean feeds us. Others find nourishment in its bounty. The ocean teaches us how our everyday choices impact even the deepest places. The ocean moves us, whether we're riding a wave or soaking in its breathtaking beauty. The ocean connects us. Find your connection at Monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects.

This is the way I heard it. Frank was no saint, and on this particular morning, his current condition confirmed it. Buck naked, arms to the sky, as to the wind, fallas flapping in the breeze. Frank stood brazenly in the town square, inviting his father to pound sand. Mothers shielded their eyes, businessmen harumped and disgust, and long-haired teens hooted and cheered. it was, by all accounts, quite a scene in a town where anything could happen. Like most fathers who find themselves mortified by their impetuous and ungrateful sons, Peter was tormented by the possibility that he had contributed to the hot mess that stood before him.

It was the father, after all, who had pushed the son to attend the very best schools. It was the father who had insisted the son run his lucrative textile business. It was the father who objected the loudest when the son turned to booze and drugs and easy women and all the other temptations that proved irresistible to the privileged teenagers who ran increasingly amok in his beloved city. And of course it was the father who did nothing to intercede when the son was called into military service. And really, why should he? Maybe a little discipline would transform his hard drinking, skirt chasing, ungrateful sports. boiled brat of a godless boy into something he could be proud of. Well, Frank was changed by the

military, that's for sure, but not the way Peter had hoped. After a year of combat and another year in a POW camp, Frank came home, deeply suspicious of the town that sent him off to kill on its behalf. Gaunt and demaciated, his drinking and skirt-chasing days appeared to be behind him, but to Peter's great disappointment, his son was still not interested in the family business or in honest work at all. He grew his hair long. He dressed like a vagrant. He joined the anti-war movement and fell in with a crowd of flower people who believed that commerce was the root of all evil. Peter was mortified. These were socialists, plain and simple. They scorned wealth, yet they were happy to take his son's money. worse, Frank seemed happy to hand it over.

Peter could only watch as hippies and peacnicks cast their spell over his broken, idealistic boy. Soon Frank moved into a flop house and renounced all his worldly possessions, and soon after that he began stealing the expensive garments from his father's own store and giving them to the homeless riffraff with whom he now lived. because Frank, as you might recall, was no saint. For Peter, this was intolerable. The bleeding heart crap was one thing, but stealing from your own father? That was clearly against two of God's commandments,

and Peter was not inclined to take the Lord's name lightly. He confronted his son and lectured him on the wages of sin, but Frank only laughed. Spare me the sermon, Pop. God is the one who told me to do it. Peter tried to reason with his boy. He tried yelling at him. He tried threatening him.

And then, on this particular morning, he tried slapping some sense into the sanctimonious little snot. Well, that didn't work either. After the beat down, Frank returned to his father's store, dressed himself in the most expensive outfit he could find, and ran through the town with his father in hot pursuit. Peter chased his blasphemous son across two lanes of downtown traffic and entered the crowded pedestrian plaza. Then Frank spun around and the father and the son confronted each other in a fashion best described as dramatic.

What do you want from me? Frank had a big voice and he addressed his father in a way that made people stop and stare. I want my son back, said Peter, gasping for air, and I want what you've stolen return. returned. Frank laughed. Your son died in the war, and I have stolen nothing from you, father, because nothing is precisely what you own. You're being ridiculous, said Peter. You are my son, and I own plenty, including the clothes on your back. Frank laughed again. Well then, by all means, allow me to return them. And with that, Frank removed his shirt and threw it at his father. The crowd gasped. And these, he said, kick.

the shoes from his dirty feet. Peter tried to stay calm. Francis, put your clothes back on. You're making a spectacle of yourself. Moments later, Frank went all in, the full Monty. And that brings us back to where we began. Back to the buck naked man in the town square. Arms to the sky, ass to the wind, fallas flapping in the breeze. If you're not Catholic, you'll be forgiven for assuming the town from which Frank hailed is the famous city in northern California where hippies and flower children once roam the streets. The same city that today welcomes the homeless, controls the rent, pushes hard for a $15 minimum wage, and offers sanctuary to anyone who can get there from any place in the world. No questions asked. Today, the residents of that town

wouldn't be surprised to see a whole parade of naked protesters, marching righteously for one cause or another, occupying this place or that one, and Frank would no doubt feel very comfortable occupying and marching in their midst. But while San Francisco is the city named after Frank, it is not the city after which Frank is named. No, that's another town, far from the city. far from the city by the bay.

Another town where fathers sent their sons to fight and die in another war, far from Vietnam. A war fought over 900 years ago between the people of Perugia and a town where anything could happen, a town where a naked and rebellious teenager could become a saint after all. A saint named Francis. from a town called a Sisi. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. If you work in University Maintenance, Granger considers you an MVP

because your playbook ensures your arena is always ready for tip-off, and Granger is your trusted partner. Offering the products you need all in one place, from HVAC and plumbing supplies to lighting and more, and all delivered with plenty of time left on the clock, so your team always gets the win. Call 1-800-Grangeer, visit Granger,

ranger.com or just stop by Granger for the ones who get it done.