Don’t judge a book by its cover

I was thinking about the American Viet Nam war and some of the people I knew that took part in it. I do not know if they were heroes while taking part, but I do know they are people forever changed.

One, a young man who went by the name Sailor. Sailor graduated in time for the 1967 Tet Offensive, one of the heaviest fought ground campaigns in the Viet Nam war. I wish I could add more to the story about Sailor other than he graduated, joined up and was killed less than six months later. He was a high school hero to me, but I was not a part of his life. Four other young men from my area joined Sailor over the next year.

Another man I met went by the name Skip. I never knew his real name. Skip had been a Navy Seal, and had seen some serious action during his tour. Skip was a big guy – about six feet tall and well muscled. Skip came back, and married his high school sweetheart a year later. they were deeply in love. Skip had a problem, and his wife suffered terribly for it. Skip suffered from war nightmares. In the six months I knew Skip and his wife, he almost choked her to death three different times – all in his sleep. Their marriage became too dangerous for Skip’s wife, and three close calls were more than enough. When a fourth nightmare happened, Skip was crushing his wife’s throat, and knocked a few teeth out before waking. Their marriage was officially over even though they were still in love with each other.

I drank beer at night with a guy named Bill for a week or so in Colorado. Bill was a wandering transient who could not come to terms with his part of the war. Bill had been a medic in Viet Nam. Medics were sent into direct fire to help care for and remove wounded men. Bill had saved some men during his tour, but many others were left dying as they moaned their lives away as he tried to help. Bill told me he tried to remain a human being do the right thing when he was in Viet Nam. One day Bill received permission to vaccinate a small village of people for local diseases. When Bill came through the village again five day later, all the villagers had had their right arms chopped off. It was punishment for accepting American aid. That was one sight too many for Bill

Then there is Virgil. Virgil was in Viet Nam to assist and help the Vietnamese protect their own people. Besides the normal fighting and killing, Virgil watched a close friend be blown up by a grenade as he picked up a little girl that wandered in out of the jungle and set her on his lap. She had been booby trapped. For years afterwards Virgil was an angry man. He argued with everyone and nothing but solitude and distance from people kept him out of fights.

A few of these men I admired and called friends. Some of them I disliked at times, but not as much as they dislike themselves. All of them hold a place in my heart and memories, and I think about them from time to time. I do not know if any of them ever earned the right to be called ‘Hero’. These men and other men like them deserve respect and remembrance for the sacrifices they made and the problems they live with. They all tried to do what they thought was the most important and correct action at the time.

I know recent returning warriors have their own nightmares and some of them will never be the young men that left to do what they thought was the right thing to do. When you meet these men, and perhaps women too, and they appear as accidents looking for places to happen, keep in mind, that sometime you can not judge a book by its cover.

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Only the best Christmas for you!

It is soon to be Christmas, so my blogging may be a little erratic over the next few days. I have really enjoyed blogging this far (all two months, lol), and I hope it continues. One of the neatest things that has come out of blogging is I have read more blogs in the last few weeks than I have read since blogging started. Some of them very good, and well thought out. If I have read your blog, I want you to know I am happy to have had the opportunity, it is like having Christmas early. Most of you are amazing people judging by your blogs.!

Some of you are also very good writers. A few of you very good writers have taken the time to visit my blog, and have left comments. I hope it never gets to be ‘old hat’ for me, both the blogging, and the comments you leave. I don’t see that happening, at least not getting excited when someone takes the time to say something about my blog – hopefully positive. Thank you for your comments, they are very much appreciated!

I have seen my share of Christmases over the years, some good, and some not so good. Fortunately for us, our minds tends to smooth out the bad things, and make the good things better in our memories.

The first year I understood the concept of Santa Claus, was the same year a teenage neighbor across the street was given a Vespa scooter by his folks. I told Santa in secret that was what I wanted, and the only thing I wanted. I told Santa he could put it in the garage cum barn. I was not a happy little boy when Christmas rolled around, and there was no Vespa for me. Never mind, I must have been all of three or four.

I remember a few really great Christmases too. What made them great was the winter weather would be nice that day, along with my folks, and most of my cousins at my aunt and uncles house for Christmas dinner. Us kids would be told to go outside for the afternoon. There was playing in the snow at first, but as we grew older, there was sledding and miracle of miracles, a snow mobile! Then there was the trip to the other cousin’s for a night of playing and fun, and food! Those were great times when I was a child.

I remember one year, when the celebrating started early with my folks. We were driving out to another aunt and uncles house, and my Dad decided some poor kid all alone in a gate shack at the Air Base on the way would be happier if he stopped and offered him a drink, and a Merry Christmas. The Airman didn’t know whether to be thankful, or arrest, and possibly shoot us. Luckily for us, he realized my Dad’s intentions were good and let us go without incident.

When I grew up there were the Christmases with kids. The first belonged to a cousin I shared a house with. The second year, I could not wait for the kids to go to bed, so she would take out the kids’ presents to be put together. We would put them together and play with them most of the night! It was so much fun at the time. It was like the clock turned back during the night and we were kids again too for a few hours. It was better with my own children, and I miss those times.

I can’t say why, but this is the first Christmas in years where I am really enjoying the excitement of Christmas. It is also another year, when I can say almost everything I would want for Christmas has happened over the last year. Great memories, and good times, what more could I possibly want. Well there are always those toys I can’t afford, but that is a different matter…

As you read this, I want you to know I hope you feel content, and complete this Christmas too. I hope all of life’s joys either have come into your life, or they are on their way in a few days.
If you aren’t quite there yet, hang on! There are a lot of special gifts life is sending your way. Life’s postman is stuck somewhere in the snow is all. Merry Christmas!

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Family memories on the porch

I spent the day out of town visiting family today. I always enjoy visiting family. It is nice to see the kids, and how they grow. Listening to their views and occasional embellished stories is always special. Some of their funniest stories come from things they observe, or have recently happened at their school, especially when they are animated while they tell me their tales.

One of the best parts of being here, is sitting on my Mother-In-Law’s porch. The porch faces the street in a mostly quiet neighborhood. It is an old part of a small town, and unfortunately there are a few abandoned houses on the block. I like to think that is a sign of a well used neighborhood, and not a run down part of the town.

There are a lot of memories surrounding that old porch. I can sit there and think about years past, when there was a holiday and all the family would be there. We would play games, eat, and have fun laughing and joking. I remember a lot of family barbeque’s, that took place by that porch. There were many Fourth of July celebrations from when the nephews and nieces were old enough to participate.

The street would be filled with pops and bangs, smoke, bottle rockets, and of course firecrackers. The kids would be fearlessly wading through the smoke and waste paper, trying to light their next firework, and then running to get another. Some years this off the porch view was better than the city displays I have seen, if not in size, then certainly in duration.

Then there were the quiet afternoon chats with family members, and friends on the porch. Solving world problems, planning the next family get together, or family group vacation. Many years ago the family went as a group to northern New Mexico. The planning was started many months in advance by one family member. As always, on the porch conversation and planning took place before the actual event arrived. All the who, when, and what time questions were discussed sitting in the shade on that porch.

This year most of the family took off to California to see the sights in and around Los Angeles. Because the family is grown up with their own families, and spread out over the state, conversations on the porch were mostly done in reflection, or between two or three members of the family at one time.

I sometimes wish I could move that porch a little closer to where I now live. That way whenever I wanted to think about all the things that took place sitting or are standing around the porch, it would be close by. Other days, I am happy the porch is so far away, because like all memories, that is what they are. They can be relieved over and over in my mind. As with all memories, that is all they are, a marker of time that has mostly long since past.

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