Homecoming and Thoughts

I’m tired. Had a platform workout at Vigor Active today, then a trip to Sam’s and the Walmart next to it. My sister, my trainer, and my platform instructor have all been on me to walk more. I didn’t walk this weekend. I watched TCU beat Kansas, Brook Henderson (Canada) win the Hilton Grand Vacations Tournament of Champions beating my choice, Nelly Korda, by 5 strokes, the Mavs losing to the Clippers, and the Cowboys losing to the 49ers. I couldn’t squeeze in the American Express Tournament won by Jon Rahm. Kudos to him. My golf swing is similar to his to the extent that neither of us takes a full back swing, Rahm because of a previous injury and me because the more I elevate my backswing the less I can control it. So I walked Sam’s and Walmart today, and I also walked to the dumpster closest to my apartment. That’s enough exercise for today. Bad weather tomorrow, so no golf.

I started my blog at the recommendation of my therapist when I told her about mom saving my letters, and through them I relived my year in Viet Nam. It has been difficult at times with some letters. I think my company had 12 KIA and about 40 wounded while I was with them. I don’t know if they lost any more while I was in and out of hospitals. The loss of Marty and Max and the letter from Max’s wife were very difficult for me as I relived those experiences. I know I had some close calls that linger at the edge of my memory. They were not in the letters, and I only remember fragments of them, not enough to try to share them here. But in the end I made it.

The letters helped me through probably the most difficult year of my life (except maybe my year in Viet Nam). I gave my gun to a friend for safe keeping, and although I am better and my living situation is better, I’m not ready to ask him to return it. May 2023 be a better year.

I was in the hospital, Siagon I thought, but maybe I was still in Cu Chi when it was time for me to leave. I DO remember that I had to maintain a normal temperature for 24 hours before the hospital would release me, so I ended up leaving one day late. The only thing I remember about the flight home was that it was very painful because I had an abscessed tooth and when the plane hit a certain altitude, whoa brother, incredible pain and nothing could be done about it. Anyway, I finally arrived at Logan International Airport in Boston where I was met by mom, dad, Rob and Sue. Rob took pictures, several of which I have included in this posting. Peni was not there. I flew to Hamilton, Ontario and visited her shortly after I arrived home. I don’t remember the visit. Obviously it did not go well. I never saw her again. After Christmas I had a relapse and spent 45 days at Chelsea Naval Hospital in Boston.

So now what? My therapist thinks I should keep on going. I have my letters that I sent home while I was training at Fort Polk, and I have letters that I wrote to Jennifer H before I was drafted. If anyone is interested in either time period, I will gladly share the period of my life where I self destruct and end up getting drafted, at least what I can remember of it and what I can dig out of the letters. I am not going to post Jennifer’s letters. I’m grateful that she saved them and returned them to me, but I won’t upload them like I did my family’s letters. There are only a couple of people who make comments at the end of my posts. So if there is no feed back from anyone following this blog entry. I will end it here.

Dad wrote two letters to me that I somehow managed to save and I’m going to share part of what he wrote in one of them. He tells me “….you must have a purpose or direction in your life. All this goes round and round in my mind to a poem I’ve kept for years, and I think of it often”

                            “Don’t Quit

“When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re treading seems all uphill

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And want to smile but have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit,

Rest if you must, but never quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns

As everyone of us sometimes learns

And many a failure turns about

when he might have won if he stuck it out

Stick to your task, though the pace seems slow

You may succeed with another blow

After the goal is nearer than

It seems to a faint and faltering man

Often the struggler has given up

When he might have captured the victor’s cup

And he learned to late when the night slipped down

How close he was to the golden crown

Success is failure turned inside out

The silver tints of the clouds of doubt

And you never can tell how close you are

It may be near when it seems afar

So stick to the fight when your hardest hit

It’s when things are worse that you mustn’t quit

“This may seem corny, but read it over a couple of times, it makes sense. I think of it and have for many years in fact, even before you were born.”

Thank’s Dad. You’d have to know my dad and our relationship to really appreciate this. I received this letter in July after most of the shit went down in March, April and June.