Here's my profile post! Apologies in advance for the length but I got a bit carried away, and love the whole damned thing :P<br/><br/>(http://www.morrisonhotelgallery.com/images/medium/jamestaylor_sbj.jpg)<br/><br/>James William Humprhies--Jim to most, Jimbo to his friends--was ostensibly the son of Col. James William Humphries Sr. and Joyce Humphries, but, like so many young men of his generation, his real parent was the Vietnam War. He started out like so many children of that generation--wild, aimless, without a cause. Jim was the young, spoiled military brat, the younger brother of George Humphries, who went to Westpoint to follow in Dad's footsteps. Jim, on the other hand, wanted as little to do with Mom or Dad and as much to do with fun as possible.<br/><br/>Then the first jeep came.<br/><br/>It was almost stereotypical: a rainsoaked night in September 1962, a green Army jeep pulling up to the house, mom out at the officers' club with the rest of the Army wives, "I'm sorry son, but your father did a great thing for our country, leading the surge." Almost like a scene in one of the World War II movies that Jim had seen with George as a child, both of them entranced by the war exploits, imagining a younger version of their father fighting the same battles. Except that night wasn't stereotypical because it was Jim's dad. Jim nodded to the officer, closed the door, took the keys to the car, and drove.<br/><br/>It seemed like a long road to drive for Jim, and it was. He drove, cruising right through high school, gathering like-minded students to rally for peace, to stop that not-stereotypical scene from happening to others. Sex, drugs, rock and roll--the Age of Aquarius had come, and it was all to show those fuckers in Washington that war didn't pay.<br/><br/>And it didn't. A string of F's in high school, a mother who had turned to drink with worry for her older son still in Vietnam--now fighting not to promote democracy but to get revenge on Charlie for what he did to Dad--and her younger son--hardly at home and almost always high, a son who hated his own brother.<br/><br/>Then the second jeep came.<br/><br/>It was different, to be sure. A sunny day in August, a teenager playing the guitar and smoking a joint with a half-naked girl in his lap on the porch, a mother weeping and drinking inside. But it was the same too. A green Army jeep pulling up, "I'm sorry son, I'm sorry ma'am, but George did a great thing for our country." "Fuck that, what'd he ever do for himself?" Jim pushed the girl off his lap, shattered his guitar on the porch. Peace, love, harmony... it couldn't save anyone.<br/><br/>Jim's mother died of alcohol poison three days later, and he met Senator Joseph Tydings at the funeral. An old friend of his father, Senator Tydings sat Jim down and told him that there might be another way to end the war--through the practice of diplomacy. "You've got one shot, son," the Senator had said, "I'm calling the university tomorrow."<br/><br/>And Jim took it. Despite his failures in high school, Jim was a bright kid, and made it through college with straight A's, joining the Delta Tau Chi fraternity because of Senator Tydings' connections to it. Jim specialized in international relations, drawing up an ambitious honors thesis on dialogue between war protesters and the State Department to bring an equitable peace to the Cold War. During college, Tydings became a sort of mentor for Jim, and it was to Senator Tydings that Jim went after college.<br/><br/>At Senator Tydings' beach house on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, two important things happened for Jim. First off, Jim was introduced to the Dean of Yale Law School, who immediately made plans for Jim to enter the prestigious institution. Second, he met Grace Tydings. Grace was, in some ways, a reflection of Jim five or six years earlier--an anti-war hippy whose antics got her father in trouble. This was especially alarming for Senator Tydings, whose own father had been accused of being a Communist by Senator McCarthy.<br/><br/>Over several dinners--some forced, some voluntary--Jim got to know Grace, and saw beneath the hippy exterior to Grace's artistic passions. Despite Grace's numerous indiscretions through an on-again, off-again relationship, Jim stayed close by, and it was only that Christmas, when Jim went to one of Grace's art shows and stayed afterwards to watch her paint, sitting behind her. He leaned forward, took her hand and brush, moved it gently to another part of the canvas, and asked, "Why not put the dove there instead?" No more painting got done for the rest of the night.<br/><br/>Three years later, when Jim graduated from law school, Senator Tydings invited him to a private meeting with one of the Senator's most unlikely acquaintances--Dr. Henry Kissinger, the Secretary of State. Although Kissinger disagreed with many of Jim's political ideas, he admired the young man's drive and offered him a position at the State Department as a desk officer at the Soviet Desk. Jim eagerly accepted, and when Dr. Kissinger had left, made another request of Senator Tydings--permission to propose to his daughter. Three days later, Jim and Grace were engaged.<br/><br/>That September, on the anniversary of James William Humphries Senior's death, Jim and Grace were married at the beach house on the Eastern Shore, a house which became their wedding gift as well. Jim still has to try to rein in Grace's wilder moments, where she gropes him in public or talks about their sexual exploits, but in the end, she's become the love of his life.<br/>