The Black truck driver pulled into my driveway and began unloading his cargo. He was about thirty five, large and muscular. I introduced myself, and he was friendly. I said, "Please forgive my curiosity, but is that a diamond ear ring in your left ear lobe?"
He answered, "The setting is only glass or plastic, but the gold is real."
I asked, "I don't mean to get too personal, but why do you wear an earring?"
"Well", he said, "It saved me plenty of times in Philadelphia. The earring and my dukes." He posed like a boxer.
I said, "Oh, I guess the earring identified you as a gang member?"
"Yeah, and if you wear one in the right ear, you might be a queer. I'm not gay. Once in the Marines, I was standing at attention for inspection, and the sergeant leaned over and looked at the hole in my earlobe. He yelled, ‘Does this ear hole mean you are a FAGGOT?’.
I hollered back, ‘No, sir!’
The sarge yelled again, ‘What does it mean?’
And I yelled, ‘It's for all the men I killed in Vietnam.’ That sarge never yelled at me anymore after that."