May 25, 2013

Silent Impact

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial located in Washi...
Image via Wikipedia

If you want to make a point of moving through life living impacting experiences, you don’t have to visit India during Kumbh Mela or live through an event like the anti-Chinese uprising in Indonesia from 1996 through 1999. Life abounds with ways to see and understand the dynamics of human failures and triumphs. All you have to do is open your eyes.

One short visit to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. will push your mind into silence. It is not a place to go for pro-war or anti-war sentiment. That is not the point. In fact, to make the point in words is wrong. You simply must experience it yourself and walk away from it with feelings you may never have dealt with before. That is an impact that creates growth no matter what your political views.

For the most sobering effect, go in the dead of winter when it’s ten below zero. If you have the choice of time, do it on a clear windy day. You can see the wall in countless photographs in books and magazines. That doesn’t cut it. You have to go. When you arrive, you will be greeted by vets who dedicate part of their lives to helping visitors find the names of friends or relatives. They can tell you the section of the wall to find a given name. Even if you know of no one on the wall, take the paper and pencil they offer and choose a man or woman and make a rubbing of the name. Stay silent. Look at the letters, flowers and personal belonging that have been left by visitors whose sons or daughters are on the wall.

When you walk away, don’t talk. Let it sink in. Each person will have an entirely different mind opening in wordless feelings. Take that with you on the plane when you fly home. When you are being served your little bag of nuts and ginger ale, take the rubbing out and look at it without thought. The result of this experience will last for the rest of your life.

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War Casualty without a Fight

Jan lived in a small Eastern Washington town in the sixties. He went with his family to the local Presbyterian Church. His mom played the organ there part time and his entire family was well liked. He was a tall young man with a full head of thick straight blond hair and known to be one of the nicest guys in town.

Jan was drafted and shipped out to Vietnam in 1968. He was only there for a hand full of weeks before he was shipped home for his funeral. He had never picked up a gun to fight. He never left dockside. He never saw the enemy, but he was still a casualty and sent home with flag and medal.

While unloading trucks off of a transport ship, the hoist broke and the truck landed on Jan.

The small town in Eastern Washington was in shock. Jan was their first war casualty. He was also one of those guys that most people would agree should live forever. He gave too much of himself to be an early death. The world needed him.

After the funeral, the town remained quiet as fear crept in, with anger as well, that Jan went to Vietnam for absolutely nothing. It was a pain that many of the town’s people would never get over. It was the kind of event that getting over- just doesn’t fix. There is no answer to this kind of travesty and to endure the pain of it by keeping the pain only made the pain worse.

In 1993, one of Jan’s distant friends happened to find himself in Washington D.C. in the middle of one of the coldest weeks on record. The sub freezing cold mixed with the wind and the clear skies made for an ethereal kind of week. Jan’s friend eventually found himself standing where fate had taken him, in front of the Vietnam Memorial. Guided by a vet, Jan’s name was found and a rubbing created of the name. Tears feel odd when they streak down a frozen face. So does healing from the inside out.

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