Last night, my sleep was disturbed by voices. I was beginning to think that I had gone completely bonkers, but couldn’t understand what the voices were saying. At least I wasn’t obeying odd voices in my head.
The voices stopped and I heard the national anthem. The music of the Star Spangled Banner brought me out of my sleep. No, it wasn’t internal, so I got out of bed to investigate.
I checked the TV in the office, the TV in the living room, and the radio in the kitchen. All were silent. I returned to the bedroom and noticed that the sound bar on the top of the TV was lit up. Yes, that was the origin of the music. I fumbled in the drawer for the remote and hit the power button. Then, it occurred to me—welcome to Veterans Day 2024.
Veterans Day was special for Jim and me. Our Colorado trips were in the summer, and for several years, we went to Branson during Veterans Week. Branson honors veterans and makes them feel welcome. Jim wore his “Vietnam Veteran and Proud of It” cap, his denim jacket, and 501 Levis.
Vietnam was an albatross hanging around his service-injured neck. As his short-term memory waned, Vietnam seemed more recent and his PTSD kicked in more often. As the disease progressed, Jim accepted that he could be proud of being a veteran.
While in Branson, we liked to ride on the Branson
Belle and go to the 76 Music Hall to see Tom Brumley, one of Jim’s favorites. At the Music Hall, we
registered Jim and collected his Veterans Week nametag. Jim’s badge would be
pinned, taped, or whatever it took to make it last until the next year. I
removed last year’s battered nametag and replaced it with the new one. We
browsed the veteran’s paraphernalia and purchased a new “Army” pin so Jim could
add it to the collection on his denim jacket.
Our last morning in Branson in 1999, we boarded the Branson Belle. During
intermission, Jim and I climbed the stairs and walked out onto the deck to
enjoy the mild November day. We stood at the railing and the movement of the
riverboat whipped a fish scented breeze into our faces.
Jim’s Levi jacket was buttoned to the top button and had so many pins on
it that he looked like a street vendor advertising his wares. His nametag
proclaimed who he was, and in essence, pronounced him a survivor of the Vietnam
War. His cap shaded his face, the dark sunglasses and cane, gave a false
impression that he was blind. Regardless of his eccentric garb, Jim was a
handsome guy with blond hair, broad shoulders, and a cleft chin.
Branson shows often include several patriotic songs at any time of the
year, but especially during Veterans Week. At every show, veterans were asked
to stand and be recognized.
The song that always broke my heart was, “Some Gave All.” The phrase
“All gave some and some gave all,” the “all” usually refers to those who lost
their lives, but when I looked at Jim, I thought that he gave “all.”
Vietnam forever changed Jim. I believe between the physical injury to his
neck, PTSD, and Agent Orange, contributed to his depression and ultimately his
dementia. Of course, the VA never agreed with that assessment. We couldn’t even
prove PTSD to their satisfaction even though they provided psychiatric care at
one time.
Jim was a Vietnam veteran, and I’m proud of him for serving his country,
but I wish that his country had served him in his time of need. With my work
insurance, Jim stopped going to the VA because he said he got a “hell of a lot
more respect” from civilian doctors.
I believe the VA is better now than it was then, and they are more
supportive of veterans. I have family that use the VA by choice and receive
excellent care. If nothing else, we can be proud that finally veterans of all
conflicts, popular or unpopular, have the respect they deserve.
My day started with the “Star Spangled Banner” and my heart goes to a
moment in 2001 when Jim was in the nursing home, silent, and mostly immersed
into an inner place that was hard to reach.
A flag made with cutouts of
children’s hands had been hanging on the wall since a few weeks after the
September 11 tragedy. One evening, I
noticed Jim had stopped in front of the flag and tipped his cap. I thought
maybe he was adjusting it, but a few days later, he stopped in front of the
flag and saluted it.
Veterans are soldiers for life.
Copyright © November by L.S.
Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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