the door bell rang, and everything changed
When my uncle (my mom's little brother) graduated from high school in the '50's, he was the guy that James Dean could only hope to be. Uncle Jim was the guy "Smokin' In The Boy's Room" was written about. He was a good looking guy with thick, curly black hair that all the girls just loved, but he shaved every last hair off his head one week before my Mom and Dad's wedding (it eventually grew back) just because my mom had irritated him about something. He liked to drink and smoke and cuss and chase women, and he absolutely was not the family hero, but my mom loved him dearly.
After high school Uncle Jim decided he would join the Navy. I don't think it was a decision he gave a lot of thought to. I think he just wanted to get out of town, see the world, have adventures, and the Navy seemed like kind of a cool way to do that. He ended up on a submarine, one of the last of the pre-nuclear subs, and found out that he loved it! The Rebel Without a Cause finally found a cause--he was a proud member of the United States Navy and a qualified submariner! www.submarinesailor.com/stories/Qualifying.asp will give you an idea of just how special that is.
Through the 1960's, Uncle Jim moved up the ladder in the Navy, gaining more and more leadership responsibilities and earning more and more respect from the men who served with and for him. When he would come home on leave, I always noticed that he carried himself with a certain kind of pride that I didn't see in many other people. I remember him as a strong, physical man. He would pick me up, and my brother as well, and he would throw us way up in the air and laugh real big as we screamed all the way back down into his arms. It seemed to me that we flew way up in the sky before he would catch us, but that's just the way that a little boy's memories evolve over the decades. My Dad worked in a bank downtown, and he told me one time that Uncle Jim always "stopped the show" every time he would drop in for a visit. Jim would saunter in wearing his uniform, looking like James Garner in one of those old war movies, and all of the girls working there would absolutely go in heat. My dad used to joke with Jim about it, giving him hell for making all of the tellers useless for the rest of the day. I'm fairly certain that was the point. Uncle Jim was a man with a plan!
When the decade ended and 1970 arrived, Uncle Jim came home on leave with some big news. He had been given a promotion and a choice of assignments. Choice A was Honolulu and Choice B was San Diego. He would be an officer stationed on a naval base in one of those very nice cities and pretty much have life whipped. Uncle Jim picked.......Choice C--None of the above! Uncle Jim announced to the family that he had requested a transfer to Vietnam and a combat position on a gun boat. He explained that important work was being done in Vietnam to fight Communism and he felt that he had a duty to go. I think it's safe to say that my Mom and my Grandma both were slightly more agitated than they had been the day he had shaved his head. My Mom was hysterical. She didn't want her baby brother going to Vietnam and she pleaded with him not to go. When we all went to the airport to see him off my Grandma didn't go. She knew in her heart, and my Mom knew the same thing as she watched Jim get on the plane, that they would never see him alive again.
They were right.
Have you ever seen the movie Saving Private Ryan? It's a fantastic movie, but I'll never watch it again. There is a scene in the movie that shows the mother of Private Ryan and his brothers washing dishes in the kitchen. She looks out the window of her kitchen and sees a car driving up the long road to her house and she begins to cry, because she knows. The car hasn't arrived yet, but she knows that the car contains news of death, and she cries. I watched that scene, and emotions that had been laying quietly hidden inside me for 28 years suddenly tore loose and I cried like a baby. I was so embarrased! My wife was sitting next to me in the theater and she held me and I bawled and sobbed and I couldn't stop. It suddenly brought back the memories of how it felt when the door bell rang and everything changed.
When the doorbell rang in August of 1970 I was the one who answered the door. When I saw two men in uniform standing somberly at the door, I thought they were refrigerator repairmen. I was 10--very young and obviously very stupid! I remember turning around to yell for Mom to come talk to the repairmen, but she was already standing there behind me. She was crying, because she knew. I remember thinking that it was very odd to get so emotional over a broken refrigerator. The men still hadn't spoken when my mom said, "Is Jim coming home? Is he OK?" The one man simply said, "No ma'am, he's not. May we come in?" My Mom broke down sobbing as the men came in. My brother, sister and I all hugged together with my Mom as she told us that Uncle Jim had been killed and was living with Jesus. I really don't remember anything else of the event or even what the two men said. I just remember that everything was forever different.
My Uncle Jim was killed by a sniper on August 23, 1970. I vividly remember a sunny day in June of 1978, when we had an open house to celebrate my graduation from high school. Someone told a joke and my Mom laughed, and I was so surprised because she hadn't laughed since August of 1970. She's still not the same person she was before 1970, though. A piece of her soul was ripped out of her body when she buried her baby brother, and it will never heal.
I look back at Vietnam, and I get absolutely pissed! Our brave men and women went to a jungle on the other side of the globe to help make the world safe for democracy, and the gutless, feckless politicians in Washington D.C. sold them out. Our soldiers and sailors were betrayed by the very people who were supposed to have their backs! The United States military fought bravely, and they were successful in Vietnam, but the Dilrods in D.C. surrendered! I call that "getting Vietnam'ed." Do you know what it's like to get Vietnam'ed? It's very similar to what happens when you go in for your proctology exam and Dr. Feelgood snaps on the glove, smiles serenely, and says, "This might be a little uncomfortable......at first!"
Well sports fans, our brave soldiers and sailors of the 21st Century are about to get Vietnam'ed again! The Iraq Surrender Group is desparately seeking a way to turn tail and run without losing dignity. Just how does one surrender and still act like you won? I feel like Uncle Jim died with dignity and honor as he fought for the freedoms that so many Americans take for granted, but his sacrifice was dishonored by a bunch of cowardly politicians. The brave men and women serving heroically in Iraq have achieved stunning successes in a very difficult, complex war, but the homefront is ready to sh__ all over them! Take a look at www.moveamericaforward.org/index.php to see all that the greatest fighting force in the history of the world has been able to accomplish.
Too many Americans today, I'm afraid, regard the very unique freedoms we enjoy as a birthright. They aren't. Freedom isn't free, as the saying goes. It has a cost, and at various times in our nation's history the cost has been astronomical. Freedom is purchased through blood, sweat and tears on the battlefield. It is purchased through prayer, faith and hope on the homefront. It is purchased through the focus and resolve and moral clarity of our elected leaders, as they seek to support the men and women who are making the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of all of us back at home. We the people must unite at this very moment in history so that we don't get Vietnam'ed again! The stakes are a whole lot higher today.
After high school Uncle Jim decided he would join the Navy. I don't think it was a decision he gave a lot of thought to. I think he just wanted to get out of town, see the world, have adventures, and the Navy seemed like kind of a cool way to do that. He ended up on a submarine, one of the last of the pre-nuclear subs, and found out that he loved it! The Rebel Without a Cause finally found a cause--he was a proud member of the United States Navy and a qualified submariner! www.submarinesailor.com/stories/Qualifying.asp will give you an idea of just how special that is.
Through the 1960's, Uncle Jim moved up the ladder in the Navy, gaining more and more leadership responsibilities and earning more and more respect from the men who served with and for him. When he would come home on leave, I always noticed that he carried himself with a certain kind of pride that I didn't see in many other people. I remember him as a strong, physical man. He would pick me up, and my brother as well, and he would throw us way up in the air and laugh real big as we screamed all the way back down into his arms. It seemed to me that we flew way up in the sky before he would catch us, but that's just the way that a little boy's memories evolve over the decades. My Dad worked in a bank downtown, and he told me one time that Uncle Jim always "stopped the show" every time he would drop in for a visit. Jim would saunter in wearing his uniform, looking like James Garner in one of those old war movies, and all of the girls working there would absolutely go in heat. My dad used to joke with Jim about it, giving him hell for making all of the tellers useless for the rest of the day. I'm fairly certain that was the point. Uncle Jim was a man with a plan!
When the decade ended and 1970 arrived, Uncle Jim came home on leave with some big news. He had been given a promotion and a choice of assignments. Choice A was Honolulu and Choice B was San Diego. He would be an officer stationed on a naval base in one of those very nice cities and pretty much have life whipped. Uncle Jim picked.......Choice C--None of the above! Uncle Jim announced to the family that he had requested a transfer to Vietnam and a combat position on a gun boat. He explained that important work was being done in Vietnam to fight Communism and he felt that he had a duty to go. I think it's safe to say that my Mom and my Grandma both were slightly more agitated than they had been the day he had shaved his head. My Mom was hysterical. She didn't want her baby brother going to Vietnam and she pleaded with him not to go. When we all went to the airport to see him off my Grandma didn't go. She knew in her heart, and my Mom knew the same thing as she watched Jim get on the plane, that they would never see him alive again.
They were right.
Have you ever seen the movie Saving Private Ryan? It's a fantastic movie, but I'll never watch it again. There is a scene in the movie that shows the mother of Private Ryan and his brothers washing dishes in the kitchen. She looks out the window of her kitchen and sees a car driving up the long road to her house and she begins to cry, because she knows. The car hasn't arrived yet, but she knows that the car contains news of death, and she cries. I watched that scene, and emotions that had been laying quietly hidden inside me for 28 years suddenly tore loose and I cried like a baby. I was so embarrased! My wife was sitting next to me in the theater and she held me and I bawled and sobbed and I couldn't stop. It suddenly brought back the memories of how it felt when the door bell rang and everything changed.
When the doorbell rang in August of 1970 I was the one who answered the door. When I saw two men in uniform standing somberly at the door, I thought they were refrigerator repairmen. I was 10--very young and obviously very stupid! I remember turning around to yell for Mom to come talk to the repairmen, but she was already standing there behind me. She was crying, because she knew. I remember thinking that it was very odd to get so emotional over a broken refrigerator. The men still hadn't spoken when my mom said, "Is Jim coming home? Is he OK?" The one man simply said, "No ma'am, he's not. May we come in?" My Mom broke down sobbing as the men came in. My brother, sister and I all hugged together with my Mom as she told us that Uncle Jim had been killed and was living with Jesus. I really don't remember anything else of the event or even what the two men said. I just remember that everything was forever different.
My Uncle Jim was killed by a sniper on August 23, 1970. I vividly remember a sunny day in June of 1978, when we had an open house to celebrate my graduation from high school. Someone told a joke and my Mom laughed, and I was so surprised because she hadn't laughed since August of 1970. She's still not the same person she was before 1970, though. A piece of her soul was ripped out of her body when she buried her baby brother, and it will never heal.
I look back at Vietnam, and I get absolutely pissed! Our brave men and women went to a jungle on the other side of the globe to help make the world safe for democracy, and the gutless, feckless politicians in Washington D.C. sold them out. Our soldiers and sailors were betrayed by the very people who were supposed to have their backs! The United States military fought bravely, and they were successful in Vietnam, but the Dilrods in D.C. surrendered! I call that "getting Vietnam'ed." Do you know what it's like to get Vietnam'ed? It's very similar to what happens when you go in for your proctology exam and Dr. Feelgood snaps on the glove, smiles serenely, and says, "This might be a little uncomfortable......at first!"
Well sports fans, our brave soldiers and sailors of the 21st Century are about to get Vietnam'ed again! The Iraq Surrender Group is desparately seeking a way to turn tail and run without losing dignity. Just how does one surrender and still act like you won? I feel like Uncle Jim died with dignity and honor as he fought for the freedoms that so many Americans take for granted, but his sacrifice was dishonored by a bunch of cowardly politicians. The brave men and women serving heroically in Iraq have achieved stunning successes in a very difficult, complex war, but the homefront is ready to sh__ all over them! Take a look at www.moveamericaforward.org/index.php to see all that the greatest fighting force in the history of the world has been able to accomplish.
Too many Americans today, I'm afraid, regard the very unique freedoms we enjoy as a birthright. They aren't. Freedom isn't free, as the saying goes. It has a cost, and at various times in our nation's history the cost has been astronomical. Freedom is purchased through blood, sweat and tears on the battlefield. It is purchased through prayer, faith and hope on the homefront. It is purchased through the focus and resolve and moral clarity of our elected leaders, as they seek to support the men and women who are making the ultimate sacrifice on behalf of all of us back at home. We the people must unite at this very moment in history so that we don't get Vietnam'ed again! The stakes are a whole lot higher today.
posted by hondo at 9:32 PM
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