National Vietnam War Veterans Day

 

March 29^th is the day that honors the nine million Americans who served in the military. The last combat troops left Vietnam on this day in 1973. More than 58,000 soldiers never made it home and more than 300,000 were wounded. The most common cause of death was small arms fire (31.8%), booby traps and mines (27.4%) and aircraft crashes (14.7%). The average age of American soldiers was 19 to 23 years old and 61% of those killed were 21 or younger.

Statistics are an objective way to look at the scope of the Vietnam War, but each person who served during the war was missed and loved by their friends and family. As the war escalated fear and anger gripped the nation. Evening news listed the death toll of the US and Viet Cong and showed horrific scenes. Yet, the media coverage did not capture the smell of death, heart-stopping moments, physical discomfort, and the vigilance necessary to stay alive.

The randomness of death and destruction haunted the survivors. Jim talked about how he was on his way to the motor pool for his day’s work when he jumped the ditch instead of crossing the foot bridge. When he did, my class key hit him in the face. He wasn’t allowed to wear jewelry so he turned back to remove it. When he did, a mortar hit where he would have been. Such a small event to determine life or death.

Vietnam changed Jim. He came home haunted by the things that happened in Vietnam. He was claustrophobic, shattered by loud noises, avoided crowds, and occasionally had a flashback that had him in the middle of combat. Jim suffered from PTSD well before it was identified in 1980.

I always suspected that Jim’s skin issues and his dementia at such a young age was from his exposure to Agent Orange. Jim talked about being on the ground while planes were dumping Agent Orange in the same area. We tried to get compensation for his exposure to Agent Orange, but at that time you somehow had to prove you were exposed. The skin condition had to be diagnosed within a year following service in Vietnam and dementia was an exclusion to the Agent Orange presumptive conditions.

Jim’s disability rating was because of a service-connected injury to his neck. When he first applied for it, we made a trip to St. Louis where the VA gave him the bad news that they couldn’t locate his medical records. A DAV representative left and returned with the records in a few minutes.

Throughout the entire VA saga, records were lost multiple times. Eventually, I started copying every medical record before sending it to the VA. We finally had to hire an attorney to get an increase in Jim’s disability. By the time we had a court date, Jim was in the beginnings of dementia. The attorney was able to represent us in court without Jim’s testimony, and we were successful in getting the increase with backpay for two years. The case had been ongoing for decades, but we took what we could get.

The sad thing about the Vietnam War was the way soldiers were hustled off to war and separated from everyone they knew and brought home individually without ceremony or a welcome except by family. They were more likely to face hostility from random strangers on the street.

Jim told me that he thought the people of Vietnam would have been better off if we had stayed out of the war. Fortunately, most of us don’t have to live every day of our lives in fear of a bomb falling out of the sky and destroying homes in our neighborhood, hitting our kids’ school, a hospital, or the nursing home where our grandparents live.

 The sad reality of war is that no one wins, and everyone loses.

 

Copyright © March 2026 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

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Is Silence Golden?

While scrolling through Facebook, I came across a recording of “Silence Is Golden,” a 1967 song by The Tremeloes. The song’s lyrics are about a man who struggles with the possibility of telling a woman he loves that her man is feeding her lies. He finally decides to mind his own business because telling her would only hurt her, and she might not believe him anyway.

Throughout life, we sometimes learn a secret that affects a person we love and can’t decide if we should tell them the truth. Silence is golden when we choose not to hurt someone unnecessarily, especially, if we are trying to clear our own  conscience at their expense.

 Silence is not golden when someone is in danger. Some people put on a false front and may only show their true nature over time. I’ve seen this happen in more than one case. One woman heeded the advice of her friend and left a dangerous situation. Another one refused to believe credible evidence and never left until he was incarcerated.

Most of the day, silence is golden to me. I’ve never been a person to turn on a TV or radio to interrupt my silent contemplation. I’ve always worked best without distractions. I enjoy my first cup of coffee in solitude and relax better without unnecessary noise. I can handle soft music in the background, or listen to music when I drive or complete physical tasks. Often when I cook or wash dishes, I’ll listen to a library book on my Kindle.

I’m happiest in small groups or one-on-one with a friend. Too much chaos or noise gives me a headache and disturbs my peace.

I enjoyed thoughtful conversations with Jim, but when Jim developed dementia, I noticed a big difference in his communication skills. Over time, he spoke less often and couldn’t find the correct words to express himself. Eventually, aphasia brought about almost complete silence. The last several years of his life, he could go days without uttering a word.

Excerpt from Indelible (unpublished memoir about Jim):

Jim had an appointment with the doctor to have his ears checked. He had been falling a lot and the nurses thought he might have an ear infection. The staff had been using eardrops, but decided he needed to see the doctor.

It was time to take him to the doctor’s office, out the door and across the parking lot. Virginia decided to be there to help the nursing home staff member assigned to take him.

They took him into the examining room, and the doctor asked, “Does he talk?”

“Not much,” the nurse replied. “He is pretty much silent.”

The doctor started examining Jim’s ear and pushed a little bit too hard. Jim jumped up from the examining table, gave him a murderous look, and yelled, “Jesus Christ!”

The doctor was totally taken aback. “I thought you said he didn’t talk!”

“I said he didn’t talk much,” the nurse replied, “but he remembers how to cuss.”

 

I was often annoyed at how many videos Jim made of vacations, family gatherings, or jam sessions, but they are treasures now. On some tapes, everyone is talking at one time, and I can pick out the voices of family and friends that I will never hear again. I love to hear Jim’s voice on the old videotapes and still laugh at his corny jokes.

Whether silence is golden, or not, depends on the circumstances.

 

Copyright © March 2026 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ

As Time Goes By

 

People who are in their final quarter of life marvel at how fast the years have whizzed by and how they age on the outside more than they do on the inside. Looking back on their past, some of them can categorize their past as more than one lifetime.

My first lifetime was from birth through graduation from high school. For the first six years, my only concern was whether I played inside or outside. The next twelve years was spent in school. Life entered the cycle of learning. I always took school seriously and couldn’t understand the mindset of the kids that didn’t care. The other part of the school years was building relationships with friends and falling in and out of love at an alarming rate.

My second lifetime was as an adult (or at least I thought I was) and marrying Jim. Nine months later, I became a mom and two years later we became a family of four. The early years were a struggle for us financially. Jim had physical and emotional problems from Vietnam. I went through anxiety and often felt like a failure because I couldn’t help Jim and give my kids the material things they wanted. Eventually, I found a good job and our financial status was stable.

Toward the end of my second lifetime, my sons grew up and Jim developed dementia. I felt as if my heart was being torn out of my chest as I helplessly watched his descent into the abyss of a faltering mind. Life was a whirlwind of doctor appointments and making caregiver arrangements. Between the sleepless nights and constant stress, I began developing health problems of my own.

My third lifetime was when Jim went into a nursing home. I began volunteering for the Alzheimer’s Association while visiting the nursing home almost daily. I was constantly vigilant for Jim’s next health crisis. The day finally came in April of 2005 when Jim passed away. I had already lived by myself for five years, and I continued to live in the house that Jim and I built for another five years. I joined two writers’ groups and BPW (now Sedalia Business Women). I began blogging in 2008.

My fourth lifetime began when Harold and I married in 2014. The first five years of our marriage were spent between work and play. He and I had some good times together before his health began to deteriorate. We had been married ten years when he passed away. Being widowed was worse the second time.

My fifth lifetime is my world now. More people I loved are no longer part of this world. Grief has become a part of living and foreshadows more to come. Along with the sad parts of life, it seems more important than ever to find joy in the mundane, life events, family time, and activities. My life is busy and my responsibilities have grown exponentially. At least I’m not bored.

Looking back on my different lifetimes, I think about the lessons I’ve learned and the love that I’ve given and received. Some people never have the feeling of accomplishment that comes with making that final payment, learning to be happy while living within a budget, and counting blessings instead of falling beneath the weight of troubles and failures.

Life is precious and whatever lifetimes you and I have weathered, we can bask in the good days and the love of our family and friends. Our memories are our connection with our past, and our hope is the guidepost to the future.      

Copyright © March 2026 by L. S. Fisher

http://earlyonset.blogspot.com

#ENDALZ