I am not sure this is the proper place to put this...but here goes...
To All The Vets of Viet Nam,
I was born in 1955, a baby boomer...into an alcoholic and abusive family. I was 14 years old when Woodstock rocked this nation. I remember standing in front of a 12" black and white set watching it unfold on the 6 o'clock news. I also remember my father using the term..".long haired hippie pukes" and being totally disgusted with the whole mess. Being 14 with a father who like to use his fists..I naturally rejected anything he said as any kind of truth. He had lost my affection and my trust many years ago. My father also told the story of being wounded in the Korean war...he even had a scar to prove it. I later found out when I got older, that he had spent the entire war in England..so much for his credibilty.
My mother thought it would be good to alert me at that tender age of 14 about the drug scene that was waiting to prey upon me. She handed me a bunch of Life magazines with an expose of the underground culture of drugs. Living in a small town in Central NY..this was definitely a foreign concept. I was mesmerized by the pictures of hippies and the freedom they appeared to have. Oh how I longed to have a place in this world where I could breathe without fear of being hit. I was ripe for the picking.Within 6 months I found myself hobknobbing with drug dealers and the like.
The next couple of years I was entrenched in the drug scene..my friends were of like thinking..we had all bought into the Love, Peace, Free Sex and drugs doctrine being perpetuated on the youth of this nation. I became a sympathizer of the likes of Abby Hoffman and Jerry Rubin. Their books became gospel for me....I devoured the book.."Soul on Ice" by Eldredge Cleaver. I hated the Viet Nam war...not because of it's political significance...but the idea of war and chaos in general. I had seen too much of that as I was growing up...I longed for peace in my soul. I drank and drugged to relieve some of the inner pain.
I bought into anything that my father hated....and hated anything he bought into. My father was a veteran and stood by the President..even though he was a democrat.....He stood by his brothers in arms. So it was natural for me to take the opposing view. I hated war. Our little town had 3 casualties in the Viet Nam war..two of whom rode on my school bus....they were older than me but each had made a distinct impression on me as I rode the bus....I remember Joe who used to make the sound of a cricket as he ran his fingers along the roof of the bus...he was so tall!!..and Ron was the cute older brther of my sister's friend. Both gone, both dead and for what purpose? My teenaged brain couldn't comprehend the whole idea of death and war.
In 1975, I was 20 years old...a survivor of years of self abuse through my reckless lifestyle..and now a mother of two children. I sat in front of another TV and watched as they were airlifting people out of Saigon. A plane full of refugees were taking off when the plane, carrying children, crashed on takeoff. I sat in front of the TV set and cried...sobs coming from somewhere so deep inside of me....I realised as I was sitting there...that this was the first time I had ever cried for anyone else but myself. My heart was starting to unthaw from years of guarding it.
When the war ended I didn't abuse the vets who had served bravely for my country, no my attitude was worse than any abuse bestowed on them...mine was one of indifference, one of apathy, a "so what and who cares attitude." I never spoke a word that brought shame to a vet, but my heart was full of hatred for anyone who would willingly go and make war.
On Memorial Day, my father would put on his legion uniform and march in the parade and shoot his gun off at the village green in remembrance of those fallen. I watched with a mocking spirit within me. It was a big deal to him (dad) when he became post commander..all I could see was another opportunity for him to drink. I saw him as a hypocrit..a man who espoused peace and freedom ...who oppressed his family with violence and bondage.
But something happened to me over the years...an ideological change, a paradigm shift of thought. I woke up in the mid 1990's and I found myself with the same ideals my father had about his country. I fell in love with where I live and what it stands for. Maybe it was watching my children growing up and wanting better for them or Maybe it was watching CNN during the first Gulf war knowing my brother was in a tank somewhere inside Iraq... or maybe it was the day I sent my youngest son off to the Marines for safe keeping. Maybe it was coming to have faith in Christ. But something definitely changed within me. Maybe it was turning off the TV for a moment and allowing God to speak to me without all the static.
I joined Free Republic over a year ago at the request of a friend. And today I watched a video clip of the VVAW throwing their medals. I must have watched it 6 times. It was this clip that prompted me to write this piece. After so many years I wonder if it would really make any difference to the men and women who served our country by going to Viet nam, if I were to say.. from the bottom of my heart...that I AM SO SORRY for not giving you the Honor you so richly deserve. I am sorry for the indifference I showed you when you returned...of turning my eyes and closing my ears.. when I heard a derogatory remark aimed at you. Would it make a difference if I told you that I am proud of the service you gave to us on behalf of our freedom..that I appreciate your sacrifices and the blood shed for the freedom we all share today. It is 30 years late but I couldn't let another day pass with writing these thoughts down.Please Forgive Me.....
WOW!
Read 33 above.