Okay!  So I've tried to write about this before.  I hope this is not a 
duplicate.  Larry Zipp was a World War Two Submarine Corp veteran.  I was 
his neighbor, for a brief time in the middle seventies.  Zipp offered to 
loan me some tools for one of the projects I was working on in the 
driveway that bordered our two houses.  I showed up late in the day, on one tool 
borrowing expedition, and discovered Zipp passed out on the couch and his 
son apologizing for his fathers alcoholicness.  He also explained 
his mother had long since left.
   To be in the Submarine Corp you had to be one of the best and the 
brightest.  That hadn't occurred to me while I knew Zipp.  I was just 
bothered by his alcoholic nature.  Zipp always seemed to take every 
conversation down to nonsense either flirting with hostility or 
chaoticness, depending, probably on whichever provided the quickest route 
to the next drink.
   I still managed to hang out with him, now and then and I remember 
visiting a couple of his haunts with him.  There was a local tavern, where 
everybody greeted him with the same disdain you would expect for a 
nonsensical alcoholic.  We drove over to see another WWII veteran he drank 
with.
   One cohort that sticks in my mind was Lil the River Rat, as Zipp 
referred to her.  She lived in a trailer, down by the Duwamish River.  
The twenty five foot trailer partially stuck in the mud, tilted uphill, 
with about six other trailers.  Once inside I was stunned at how 
immaculate it was, with doilies on the wall, a nice chair and table.  But 
the woman who met us was gruff and cussed with every other word.  A shin 
cast on one leg allowed her to hobble to the bottle she and Zipp took 
their first drink out of.
  On the wall was a picture of a stunningly beautiful girl.  The softness, 
the pose, it was like the best high school photograph I had ever seen of 
one of the most beautiful woman alive.  I couldn't help but stare.  "Is 
that your daughter?"  I asked Lil.  "That's me honey."  Lil didn't give 
any further explanation but just kind of watched for a minute as my 
realization sunk in.  I learned later that it was a Hollywood still and 
Lil had been an actress, with a "promising career" as Zipp said in one of 
his more believable moments.
   The lessons I learned from Zipp were powerful, when I think back on 
them.  That old nonsensical short red headed alcoholic was imparting a 
little wisdom to his younger neighbor, who was willing to spend some time 
with him and drive him around.  Years later, after I sold the house and 
had moved out of the area and back in again, I ran across Zipp jay-walking 
across a four lane highway to get to the grocery store.  He didn't seem to 
know me at first.  He confessed that he no longer lived in the house on 
fifth avenue and pointed west, saying he lived in an apartment over there.  
Zipp moved to his old nonsensical tone and we ended our somewhat awkward 
conversation.
   A couple of weeks later a local TV station did a tribute to the 
Submarine Corp.  They interviewed Zipp.  I was amazed at the unrehearsed 
eloquent tribute Zipp gave to his submarine buddies.  The nonsensical Zipp 
I had known, had disappeared completely.  It was an opportunity for a 
historic moment and Zipp rose to the challenge to pay a proper tribute 
that he knew his shipmates deserved.  I was moved and even though Zipp 
destroyed his life with alcohol, he was a hero in this last call where we 
saw some of the Zipp that had earned him a spot on the Submarine Corp.


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