Category Archives: PTSD

May 20, 2009 · 19:41

Whirling, transient nodes of thought careening through a cosmic vapor of invention…

mental floss

“My mind is aglow with whirling, transient nodes of thought careening through a cosmic vapor of invention…” Headley Lamar (Harvey Korman) Blazing Saddle’s

Blurred Days, Preparing for Death and Medium Rare Diseases : The past 10 days have been a blur.  So much has happened that I have a hard time coming to grips with it all.  First was going out to California to assist my mom and brother in dealing with things concerning my dad’s worsening condition.  It was good to have a couple of visits with him where he was with me at least for a few minutes.  I will treasure those figuring that they may well be the last that I have with him on this green earth.  Yet it was hard.  I had to kind of package away my stuff for a while and hoping to process when I got back.  It seems that the Deity Herself has decided that she needed to build more character in this character than this character thought that he needed.  When I got back we were faced with the first real health crisis in our lives.  Judy contracted Epiglotitis somehow and we spent the majority of the past three days in hospital ER’s or having her admitted to hospital.  Nothing is ever normal for us. Maybe it’s because neither of us are normal.  In fact Judy is Abbess of the Abby Normal (see the link on my blog roll).  So Epiglotitis is very unusual, 10-40 cases in a million.  Most are kids and it is almost unheard of in this country.  The Third Year ENT Resident said that he had never seen it before.  The attending almost missed it until the ER Attending saw the soft tissue X-Ray.   As I said in my last post after I had made the diagnosis which was confirmed by the physicians: “It’s a kid’s disease except when it happens to adults.” It is what probably killed George Washington.  Thankfully even early Monday morning though the ER Attending did not see it he did the right thing in a heavy dose of IV antibiotics and steroids.  This probably arrested the development of the condition.  When it worsened we got Judy into the ER pretty fast and again the right thing was done.  She seems to be doing well now that she has been discharged home and for this I am most grateful that she is not dead  or even the Grateful Dead. However two long nights in ER with little rest following the trip to California have left me worn out.  I do hope that the Deity Herself does not think it necessary to build any more character in this miscreant Priest.  Thankfully my Department Head took my duty today and put me on two days of leave to put myself back together. Sleep has been fitful and my anxiety levels have been rather high.  Thankfully no PTSD meltdowns this time at least not yet.

The Holy Unction of the Baseball: If you remember my post Baseball in Between Life and Death in the ICU I mentioned a dear woman and her husband who were both big baseball fans.  She was in the ICU and seeming to be getting better and I promised her a baseball.  She crashed hard.  The next day when I brought the ball in she was heavily sedated and intubated. She was trying to die on us.  If you recall I placed the baseball in her hand and she gripped it tight. Her husband and sister said that she did not let it go for about 7 or 8 hours.   I prayed for her as I did this.  I went to California and she was still pretty bad off.  By the time that I came back I heard that she was doing a lot better.  I saw her yesterday and had a wonderful visit with her and her husband.  There is a possibility that they may be actually able to do something to help her heart function.  She remembers having the ball in her hand and wondering how it got there even when she was heavily sedated.  Could it be possible that the Deity Herself could have made The Holy Unction of the Baseball a new sub-Sacrament of the Sacrament of Healing?

Don’t Screw Up the Prayer: I did the invocation and benediction at the groundbreaking ceremony for Preventive Medicine unit at Norfolk.  I’ve done hundreds of prayers at military and civil functions.  They are not hard to do.  What you don’t want to be is too memorable because if this is the case you have probably done something to be remembered and not in a good way.  I have seen this done a number of times.  Often the Chaplain has no clue that he stepped all over it.  This can happen by going too long, forgetting the words or trying to be too uppity, sectarian, funny or unique.  Since most of the time the people at these functions have to be there the chaplain cannot presume that they are the show and can do whatever they want.  In the Navy this is really important.  I write these prayers out and have done so for many years now.  Not only do I write them out I read them several times before I ever get in front of a live audience.  Doing this keeps me from doing something stupid, which on occasion even I can do.   I even have a basic format that I put the prayer into: The introduction; specific event/unit/situation that I am asking God to bless, and the closing sentence.  I try to keep it to 30-45 seconds, never more than a minute.  It is not good when they look at their watches when you are praying or yawn. In the public forum you have a place to be a witness, but it is always a delicate balance. The people at the event are not there to see the chaplain.  The chaplain is like the ceremonial first pitch or meeting between the managers of the two baseball teams and the umpires to discuss the ground rules.  Chaplains are not the main event unless it is an actual worship service.  Even memorial services and ceremonies where the chaplain plays a huge role, the chaplain is not the reason everyone is there.  It is no place to try to be Paul Harvey and tell “the rest of the story.” Thus this ministry in the public arena can be one that either provides the chaplain entrance into the community with opportunities to provide great ministry, even evangelical ministry.  Or ensures that they remain an outsider to the community, nipping at the fringe and hoping someone will hear them.   When we were done I had an officer compliment me on my prayer.  He said it wasn’t too long, wasn’t too short and honored what they were doing.  I love it when a plan comes together.

A Tale of Two Burgers: Yesterday I did something that I have not done in years.  I had two hamburgers in a single day. Both were fast food burgers and usually I maybe eat A HAMBURGER every 45-60 days.  Yesterday as you know from reading this was rather hectic.  One the way home I stopped by Sonic to get a Super Sonic Double Cheeseburger with Mayo, Mustard and Ketchup. For fast food this is a hell of a burger.  It is tasty and big.  Sure it’s not the best hamburger in the world but it will work in a pinch.  Early this morning after leaving Judy at the hospital I stopped by a 24 hour McDonald’s.  I was hungry and tired.  Unfortunately they have an exceptionally limited after midnight menu. Two Types of Quarter Pounder, The Big and Tasty Burger, a Southern Chicken Sandwich, Chicken McNuggets and Chicken Strips.  Not much to choose from.  I should have gone with the McNuggets or regular Quarter Pounder but taken in by the name I asked for the Big and Tasty.  This was very possibly the very worst hamburger that I have ever had.  The meat was bland and greasy and topped by a mound of mayonaise that drowned out any other taste.  I could feel my arteries closing as the first bite went down.  I can only say “Never Again.”

Moving to the Front of the International League: My Norfolk Tides are now 26-12 not only atop their division but now has the best record in the International League.  This is a exciting young ball club.  We have not had anything like this in years at Norfolk.  I just hope that the Orioles don’t rape the Tides to fill their roster.  I know that the minors exist to support the big team but right now this is a special team and fun season.  I pray that the Deity will ensure the Orioles success so that we can continue like this the rest of the season.

Getting the call reversed: It looks like our insurance company has decided to agree with us and the body shop and denial the fraudulent claim against Judy.  Sometimes arguing with the umpire nicely gets the call reversed.

As always thank you for your kind words, encouragement, concern and prayers over the past 10 days.  They are appreciated and I know that they are effectual.

Peace, Steve+

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May 17, 2009 · 19:29

Rest Recovery and Reaction- Thoughts on Returning Home

The events of the past week have been a blur.  The trip was non-stop action with a lot of stress built in.  I am thankful that I was able to get a few moments to catch up with my brother and old friends over a couple of beers.  The day on the links was really enjoyable.  The pain of my sunburn is slowly going away.  I hope to get out a couple of times in the near future here.  If I actually play more than once a year I might actually be pretty good.

I have received much support from my friends and for this I am grateful. To know that one is not alone in times like these is a great comfort.

I found that I still have some of my PTSD reactions to noise light and crowds, especially in airports or crowded airplanes.  I get anxious and can actually feel the anxiety.  When I get trapped in a big crowd in a confined place it is really noticeable.

I wrote something else over the past few days regarding the way people on the political right and left use and abuse the military and veterans.  I’ve been stewing about it after the remarks of a prominent former elected official about a retired General with a distinguished record last week.  I’ve put off publishing it because I want to make sure that when I do it that I haven’t said something that will piss everyone off.  I’m sure that there will be some who take offense, especially when I criticize certain media personalities who are iconic.  I want people to see that it is wrong to in one sentence to praise the military and in the next criticize it when either the institution or members of the institution active or retired disagrees with their agenda, no matter what it is.  I have been pleased with President Obama protecting our troops by blocking the release of photographs which the ACLU wanted published.  Of course he realized that the photos could only put our troops in danger and inflame an already volatile region.  Likewise he is continuing to increase the size of the active duty Army and Marine Corps and has halted the reductions in the Navy and Air Force.  I think he gets the picture and is looking out for us.  I do not know when or if I will publish that article but I am going to hold off on it at least for a while.  I have become a lot more prudent about such things than I was in times past.  That being said I don’t care if the person being an ass and treating honorable men who serve faithfully in a shabby manner are liberals or conservatives.  If they want to criticize honorable men who have served the country faithfully in peace and war and they have never served I will not hesitate to call them on it.  My brotherhood with those who have served is deeper than any political party. I don’t serve Red States and Blue States but the United States.  I’m tired of people who use their influence in the media to stir up hatred and discontent and question the manner of how we do the jobs they send us to do.   Likewise for them to  question our honor and integrity, especially when most of them have never served a day in uniform is way below the belt.  May the Deity Herself preserve this miscreant Priest.  To quote Colonel Nathan R Jessup in A Few Good Men:

“Son, we live in a world that has walls and those walls need to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? … We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use then as the backbone of a life trying to defend something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said “thank you,” and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest that you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.”

Peace, Steve+

Post Script:  I didn’t get to recover last night.  About midnight I had to take Judy to the ER.  She is not one to usually need to do this but she developed some kind of infection that was keeping her from swallowing and possibly threatening her airway.  After a bunch of IV antibiotics, steriods, pain meds and a CT scan they decided not to admit her, though that was a near run thing. She should be fine but I didn’t get home until 0400.  To those not in the military or Germans that means Mickey’s Big hand is on the 4 and his little hand on the 12. Following this I had to go to the DMV to replace my license plates which had been stolen off my car from in front of my house.  This was not the way I thought the return would be.  God bless and thanks for the kind words, thoughts and prayers. Peace, Steve+

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May 16, 2009 · 23:00

Last Visit with Dad, Beer with Breakfast and Musings on my Visit to Mudville

Me and last last pic

Dad and Me 15 May 2009 in our matching Giants Apparel

I got to the airport I had a better time checking in that my trip out.  I had time to get breakfast in the Home Turf Sports Bar. As readers of this blog know I do not do travel or airports well since I came back from Iraq.  I used to travel quite frequently and while I can do well I have a lot more anxiety in crowds and lines.  Thankfully Sacramento is not too bad today.  Even so I decided to get breakfast.  Had scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries washed down by a couple of pints of Sam Adams Boston Lager. I find that a good beer takes the edge off of the anxiety and taste a lot better than Xanax.  The first time I did this was in between flights going to and from Bahrain at Heathrow in London.  A pint goes very well with breakfast, which over there included eggs, potatoes, toast, tomatoes and rashers of bacon. Despite this when I got into the crowded line I have a decent anxiety attack.  The flight to Chicago is full and there are a lot of less experienced travelers and families with small children on board. Thankfully none of the kid’s has started screaming….at least yet, may the Deity Herself keep the kiddo’s quiet.  The most miserable fights I have been on have been the ones with the screaming kids.  I really don’t like the beer on aircraft since it is always in cans.  Beer doesn’t taste as good out of a can, even decent beer.  I prefer beer on tap or in a bottle.   However this afternoon I decided I could use a beer.  The crowed flight was beginning to get on my nerves, especially the young gentleman sitting in front of me who kept adjusting, readjusting and bouncing in his seat. He had almost caused me to spill my Diet Coke.  I went back to the aft galley and the flight attendant when he saw my military ID gave me a complimentary beer and thanked me for my service to the country. That was pretty cool, and though it was a brand I might not normally drink, it tasted better than any domestic beer I have ever had on a flight.   Way to go Southwest.

I do not know when I will get back to Mudville.  I assume that it will be sooner rather than later given my dad’s condition which is obviously deteriorating fairly quickly now.  At least we have gotten some of the hard things done.  My brother and I have continued to grow close and continue to find just how much alike that we are.  The only thing that we might disagree on is our taste in beer, that however is nothing to fret over.  I love his family, he’s a great dad.  Somehow all of us will get through this time.

A couple of other high lights of the trip were having a pizza, salad and beer over at my nephew Eric’s pizza parlor.  The place is called appropriately enough Eric’s. He bought it from the previous owner who had hired him as a teenager.  Then it was called Rick’s and it is still a local fixture in Mudville. Eric runs a great place and frequently is recognized as having the best pizza in Mudville.  As a pizza expert I can say that it is some of the best I have ever had.  Truthfully I like what I like better, Eric’s crust is a bit more substantial than mine, I like the really thin, light and soft New York crust.  Eric’s is definitely a New York Pizza and incredibly good, if you go to Mudville he’s on El Dorado Street.  Tell him I sent you.  He also serves Newcastle Ale on tap. That is also a major selling point for me. He has good taste in beer.  Whenever I go there we always have a nice talk.  He’s a good family man and business man.  It is hard to believe that I have known him since he was 8 years old.  I had dinner at Arroyo’s Café one night.  For the unenlightened Arroyo’s has some of the best Mexican food around.  If you are in Mudville it is worth the visit.  The portions are good sized, taste good and the prices are very affordable.  Finally I had a great time with my buddy Rob from elementary school and junior high school.  I hadn’t seen him since 1979 or 1980 and it was good to reminisce as well as catch up on things.

Today also marks a milestone.  It was 13 years ago today that I was ordained as a Deacon.  I’ll write about that experience another time.  Like most things in my life it was not an ordinary day or boring event.  I guess the surprising thing is that I survived 13 years as a Deacon and as a Priest.  Once again the Deity Herself continues to protect this miscreant Priest.  From the moment that the Blessed Sacrament was lifted high out of the Paten by a gust of air from an errant ceiling fan before the horrified eyes of the blue haired ladies at the cathedral where I was ordained, my service as a Deacon and Priest has not been ordinary.

I’ll get back late tonight and head over to Gordon Biersch with Judy for dinner and a couple of Marzen’s.  Tomorrow I’ll try to take it easy and rest.  I look forward to Monday night and the Tides game.  It has been over 10 days since I’ve been to a game.  Thankfully the Tides were out of town for most of this time.

Thank all of you again for your kind words, thoughts and prayers over the past week. They have been most encouraging.

Peace, Steve+

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May 11, 2009 · 19:15

The Journey to Mudville

Friends: I wrote this in several parts over the day on my trip. I do thank all those who have expressed sympathy as well as voiced prayers on our behalf. Thank you. Peace, Steve+

There are those times in life where one wonders what the hell is going on.  I sat in my seat between two other gentlemen on the fully booked Southwest Airline flight to Chicago. This was the first stop on my journey home to Mudville, sometimes known as Stockton, California.  The legend is that the poem Casey at the Bat is set in Stockton, and for a couple of years the Stockton Ports were reflagged as the Mudville Nine.  So in a sense I can claim Mudville as part of my baseball lineage.

The journey had begun inauspiciously enough when my cell phone’s alarm clock went off at 0430 to the tune of John Foggarty’s Centerfield.  That’s military time for 4:30 AM, or too frickin’ early… even by my standards.  Now true this is only 15-30 minutes earlier than I normally arise, but I have never been a morning person.  If I had been able to get to sleep at a decent hour this might not have been too bad.  However, I had spent a full day trying to get my shit together on Sunday and did not get to bed until after midnight.  Thankfully my sleep meds worked and I did get to sleep.  When the alarm went off I got my sorry ass up and set the snooze for ten minutes more. Molly the dog glared at me.  Evidently this was too early for her as well.  I finally got up and out of bed, showered and went downstairs to call a cab.  Of course the cab company couldn’t promise a cab before 0600 and since my flight was scheduled for 0645 I knew that this was definitely a no go.  Molly the dog decided that it was now time to come downstairs and demand to be let out so she could do her business.  This being done she collected her payment of a Milk Bone and went back to bed.  After having paid off Molly I loaded my suitcase and backpack into my trusty 2001 Honda CR-V and started off to the airport.  After Iraq I now consider airports as the gateway to hell.

Radio tuned to ESPN Sports Radio 1310 AM I received the news that my San Francisco Giants had beaten the Evil Dodgers at Chavez Ravine 7-5 in 13 innings, taking two of three from the now Mannyless Dodgers. While the Norfolk Tides had taken 2 of three from the hapless Buffalo Bisons which in the Mets organization had once been the Tides. The Mets as usual have decided to treat their AAA farm team badly and people in Buffalo after years of competitive seasons as a Cleveland Indians affiliate are opening complaining.  With the good news I stopped by my local 7-11 for a 24 ounce coffee with 4 French Vanilla creamers and 3 packets of Splenda and zipped off to I-264.  It was then that things started to get interesting and not in a good way.  I managed to find every stoplight and get behind every timid driver who couldn’t drive anywhere near the speed limit.  I’ve driven the Autobahns of Germany and cut my teeth in L.A. and a lot of people in Hampton Roads can’t drive nails, much less cars. I put my CR-V into warp factor eight, set the cloaking device and dodged in and out of traffic and took the secret wormhole into the airport to avoid even more stoplights.  It is patently a good thing that I know such things as I would shortly discover that I would need every second.

I pulled into the parking garage and saw that there were 26 spaces available on the second deck. I drove onto the deck and discovered that there were not 26 spaces but a big fat zero spaces available. Muttering a few things about the questionable parentage of the idiot who couldn’t count the difference between 26 and zero I drove my CR-V up to the 3rd deck.  The sign here said 16 spaces available…good I thought, certainly they couldn’t screw up two floors.  Damned if I wasn’t screwed again.  Here again the parking space counter of the previously mentioned questionable parentage had miscounted.  Instead of 16 spaces there were…you guessed it, zero, nada, nicht eine, yea even nary a single space available. Now calling to mind the probable oedipal practices of the individual of questionable parentage I moved up to the 4th deck.  Here I found success; albeit at the end of a row far from the terminal, but I had my spot…at least I didn’t have to keep going up.  I looked at my watch and knew I had to run. I did the O.J. (racing through the airport, not killing my wife) and I got down to the ticketing area where I was greeted by the sight of at least 250 people in the Southwest line.   I now only had 50 minutes to my flight departed.  Normally with Southwest this is easy. They are efficient and the line, if they have one at all it tends to move fast.  Today was like something out of the hell known as the Orlando International Airport.  Some group of 100 or so people had bumped everyone else aside. Likewise one of the big TSA baggage X-rays was down, turning this into a nightmare is grumbling people stewed wondering if they would make their flights.  I uttered some more #*@#%! words under my breath and then asked the Deity Herself to give me a break. Thankfully the Deity and the good people at Southwest ensured that line moved fast.  We received some help when the group who had gooned up the line was finished.  Then the agent called for my 0645 flight.  At this point all of now very late passengers stormed the ticket booth like revolutionaries storming the Bastille. Thankfully I had good position based on my position in the line. Expert that I am I weaved through the lesser experienced travelers. I slid into a self serve kiosk that no one else had spotted like Ricky Henderson would slide into second. As I got my boarding pass a pushy woman tried to bump me out of line. I didn’t like it; she was trying to crowd me out of line when I was there first.  Thankfully she was too dense to know that she needed to check her bags despite having a boarding pass in her hand.  The Southwest agent told her to get in a different line and I got my bag checked.  That task completed I did the O.J. and flew up the steps to the TSA checkpoint.  Jumping over a bank of chairs I managed to pass about 50 people only to discover that the nefarious group of 100 was already at the TSA checkpoint.  Once again the pushy lady tried to elbow her way through the line.  Since she obviously was a narcissist with no sense of propriety I cut her off. She looked at me like I was stupid, forgetting that we had had this little discussion just a few minutes before.  I said “ma’am, most of us are on your flight and are ahead of you.” Her jaw dropped and a TSA agent told her to get back echoing my words.   She looked at me and said “Will they hold the flight for me?”  To upset her, having faith in the Deity and Southwest, I lied and said, “Probably not.” Of course I didn’t believe this with so many of us in the same predicament. Yet I kind of enjoyed the look on her face as she moved back to her rightful place at the end of the line. Not the nicest thing to do, but some things need to be done.  I’m sure it was a sin.  As I asked one priest in confession: “Is it still a sin if they deserve it?” He told me: “Yes, but there may be some mitigating circumstances, but that is still a sin.”  Well there’s some more extra innings in Purgatory for me. Thankfully I am an expert traveler now, so when I got to the screening station I flew through it. Looking at my watch I knew that I had to be screwed. I had heard the final boarding call in the TSA line and it was past time for departure.  I raced down the concourse I saw that the Deity had already spoken to the kind folks at Southwest and had them hold the aircraft for all of us…the pushy lady included, proving that the Deity even cares for pushy narcissists. I guess that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.  Somehow I got through this episode without having a PTSD meltdown despite not having either a Xanax or beer to calm down.  Lot’s of deep breathing I guess helped this time.  Had I not made the flight I might have cracked, but the Deity Herself looked after me.

We arrived at Chicago Midway a little bit late, but in plenty of time to make my connecting fight to Sacramento, the alleged capitol of the State of California.  I say alleged because though there is much in the way of a state government in it there is painfully little evidence of effectiveness, despite having the Governator. Getting to Sacramento I picked up my luggage, which thankfully despite the lateness of my check-in got through.  If I had done the same on either Divided Airlines or U.S. Scare I’m sure that the luggage would not have made it on my flight, but would have ended up God knows where.  While waiting for my bag I had an e-mail from my mom about a run in that she had with a lady from hospice.  She was pretty spun up and my brother confirmed this.  I got my rental car, a 2009 Black Nissan Altima and headed down I-5 to Mudville.

When I got to Mudville I stopped by Raley’s to pick up the flowers that I told my mother would be arriving through a special arrangement with the florist.  Since I figured I should play this up for all that it was worth I decided to call and let her know that I had gotten her message.  She immediately launched into what was wrong with the world as I sat in my car in her driveway. I assured her that my brother and I would take care of things and that everything would be okay.  I knocked on the door with my phone in hand still talking to mom.  She told me someone was at the door and I said I would call back. She looked out the blinds which cover a window by the door, and then closed them, and then in disbelief opened them again. She was floored and stared in disbelief as I stood at the door, flowers in hand. I took her to the nursing home to see dad.  Somehow my nephew’s and niece managed to keep the secret the last two weeks. The surprise was total. He was glad to see me and immediately asked where Judy was.  He was disappointed that she was in Virginia. Unfortunately he looks in a lot worse shape than he was last year.  After the visit which included talks with the nursing staff and billing office I took my mom to Chile’s.

Now the hard part really starts.  Have to go up and see my dad.  I’ll be getting mom to the funeral home as well as make arrangements with their church for the memorial service at a date to be determined.  Following this I will be helping my brother with selling my parents old grave plots back to the cemetery in Napa where they lived a few years back. Then I will work on insurance issues between the insurance company and the nursing home.  The insurance company is being stupid right now.  The first 6 months they paid and now despite no change they are claiming that the nursing home is entering the wrong billing codes and say that they have the case “under investigation.”  However, since they have set precedent they should keep paying.  If they don’t start soon my brother and I will have to sue their sorry asses for putting my mom through hell.  If dad was with it he would be pissed.

So now that I am in Mudville I have work to do.  Take care and keep us all in your prayers.

Peace, Steve+

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April 23, 2009 · 22:58

Unearned Runs and Life

Today was one of those days where things went a lot better than the previous couple of days.  I mentioned yesterday about a situation that I needed to deal with at work.  I was able to do so with wonderful support from my boss, co-workers and especially my wife.  Special thanks go to Judy my wife and Jessie my boss and department director.  Both through their sage advice and love kept me from doing something that might have satisfied my desires but been damaging had I did it in the venue that I wanted, right here.  It was one of those times that I learned to listen and not act on impulse.  In the past I might have, to use a military term “fallen on my sword.”  This is where in order to make a point you commit career suicide.  The thing is about “falling on your sword” is that you tend to only get to do it once, whether you do it intentionally, or whether you get yourself into a situation where you lose control and make a costly mistake.  So you must pick when and where and for what you are willing to do it.  So it better be worth it. Likewise you have to be careful not to put youself in the position of making the costly mistake.  Today was not worth it, those who I rely on as my sanity check kept me from doing this allowing my inner Romulan to reemerge and get control of myself before I even went up to take care of the situation.

Falling on one’s sword is like an unearned run in baseball.  For the people who still need to get saved and become a member of the Church of Baseball, unearned runs are things that you do which give the opposing team runs that they did not earn.  Unearned runs come mainly come from walks and errors, though wild pitches, passed balls and errant throws. These kind of mistakes allow the other team to get runners on base that should have been out.  In baseball the lead off walk, the two out walk or error is often fatal to the team that allows it to happen. There is also the type of unearned run that comes when a pitcher decides to throw at a batter when it would go in against the best interests of the club.  Maybe he does it because the batter hit a dinger the previous at bat, maybe for some other reason.  The effect is often even worse.  The pitcher gets the other team fired up, the batter gets a free pass to first and the pitcher then has to face the next batter with runners on base against a team that is now fired up.

I saw the former happen to the Durham Bulls tonight.  An error in the bottom of the sixth on a pick off attempt put a runner into scoring position who the scored on a soft base hit to right.  The Tides won the game 4-3 and improved their record to 9 and 4 moving to a half game behind the Bulls in the International League Southern Division The night was a great night for a ball game, just a little bit chilly, but such is April in Hampton Roads.  Tomorrow the Tides and the Bulls play again, 7:15 at Harbor Park.

Today I was able to get what I needed on the table in a public forum.  I was angry enough that to use the baseball analogy I was ready to throw at a certain individual’s head.  Instead after talking with the manager, I was able to do a brush back which got his attention.  Doing this I was  protected by my boss and affirmed by my colleagues.  And I didn’t even use any course language.  When I told this to Judy she said something like “that’s amazing.”  Something that I patently agree with and I am sure that the Deity Herself prevented me from allowing any unearned runs today.  This actually felt good.  After about 28 years in the business I am finally learning.

Finally I have to admit that I work with probably the best team of Chaplains that I have in my career.  To all of you, you are the best.  Thanks for helping me through the past couple of days and helping me not to  a costly error.

Peace, Steve+

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April 19, 2009 · 21:16

The Church of Baseball at Harbor Park- Opening Day Tomorrow


1972-oak-park-al-rams

The 1972 Oak Park Little League Rams sponsored by Alex Spanos. I am to the left of the coach in the back row.

“Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.” Yogi Berra

Baseball is back at Harbor Park tomorrow as the Norfolk Tides take on the Charlotte Knights in their home opener. Weather could make this one a bit sporty.  Rain and thunder during the day tapering off overnight.  Hopefully my prayer vigil will succeed in persuading the Deity Herself to intervene.  This has not always been the case, a few years back the opening day was in early April.  The weather was 38 degrees with winds gusting to 45 mph coming out of center field. This was a tough game even by my hearty standards.  I finally took my ever long suffering and nearly hypothermic wife home after the 7th inning stretch.  Since then she has been wary of opening days here in Hampton Roads.

This season is cool because I have a season ticket for the first time.  Section 102, Row B Seat 2.  Right behind home plate, field level.  It doesn’t get any better than this for me.

If you haven’t figured this out yet, baseball is a passion for me.  I was out in town at a Starbucks following a meeting and I had my Tides hat and warm-up jacket.  The barista asked if I worked for them.  I simply replied “No, I’m a Priest, and a proud member of the Church of Baseball.”  This elucidated a laugh from the charmingly polite girl who promptly gave me my non-fat mocha, sans whipped creme. I’m not sure if she understood the significance of what I said, but to quote George Will: “Baseball is Heaven’s gift to mortals.”

I’ve never played for a baseball team, or softball team that won it all.  I guess in some ways I can empathize with fans of the Cubs and Giants, who wait every year to once again be disappointed as their team finds a way to salvage defeat from the jaws of victory.  This years Tides, who are the AAA farm team of the Baltimore Orioles may be up to something good.  They are 6 and 4 and seem to be playing pretty well.  They have a 5 game win streak coming into the home opener.  The Tides have 3 of the International League’s top ten hitters at this early point of the season.  Their pitchers have a team 2.60 ERA which right now is second in the league.  This is a far better start then the last few years and hopefully it bodes well for the team. When I was a kid, I used to watch the Stockton Ports of the California League when they were an Orioles farm team in the early 1970s.

The closest thing I have been to a championship baseball team was back in 1972.  I was a member of the Stockton California, Oak Park Little League Rams, sponsored by non other than Alex Spanos, the current owner of the San Diego Chargers. We were probably his first team to almost win a championship.  It seems fitting.  We wore the same colors as the Chargers and lost in the championship series, losing by a run in the final game.

I think that Little League, if you can get parents who want to run their kids teams out of the picture, is great for developing virtues that help kids later in life.  At least it did for me.  We had a great coach.  A guy named Phil Deweese. At least that’s how I think that he spelled it.  He was a great coach for us and actually spent time teaching us how to do things like hit, pitch,field and run the bases.  I did better at fielding, was a less than stellar hitter and usually played 2nd Base though occasionally I would play 3rd, Center Field or Catcher. Phil was great with us.  He taught us to have fun while working ahrd at the basics. We did well, had a great season and came close to winning the championship.  I was able to drive in a run and score a run in our one win of that series. My hitting in the playoff series was better by far than at any time in the season.He added to the things that my dad had been teaching me patiently for years in our back yard.  Unfortunately dad was deployed to Vietnam and did not see us play.

I was kind of a utility player, something that in today’s game you seldom see.  Utility players were guys that could be plugged in either in the field or as a pinch hitter.  They were not the team all stars, but could be counted on to give a solid performance.  That was me.  I kind of continued this as an adult playing softball, but more often than not ended up at 2nd base, occasional 1st or 3rd base.  I caught one year and was run over at home plate by a really big guy as I was going in the air to catch the throw from the outfield.  I landed hard enough to break my throwing arm.  At the time I was having my best year ever hitting.  After cussing the guy out I was finally pulled when it became apparent that I could not throw the ball. What is amazing to me is that I endured the pain to play another inning and even hit, an infield single.

Anyway.  This game is in my blood, God speaks to me through baseball. The ballpark it is one of the few places, besides my ICUs and a small Episcopal Church that I worship at that I can feel safe in public, praise be to PTSD.  At least the Deity has helped me in this regard.  Anyway, as I go back to my rounds about the medical center tonight I also maintain my prayer vigil for tomorrow’s weather. I can’t wait.

Peace, Steve+


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April 8, 2009 · 20:27

The Dangerous and Often Thankless Duty of Military Advisers

me-and-btt-with-bedouin-kids1 Me with Advisers to the 2nd Border Brigade with Bedouin Family on Syrian Border 23 December 2007

There are a group of US Military personnel that are seldom thought of or mentioned in the wars that we are waging in Iraq and Afghanistan. These men and women from all branches of the military are those who serve as advisers, trainers and mentors to these nations security forces.  The duty is dangerous.  The advisers, be they to the military, police, or civil administrations often work in the most isolated places in these countries and are stationed in small teams with the Iraqis and Afghans that they advise.  The are often far from the “big battalions” that have lots of firepower available and often operate out of larger and more secure bases with air support close at hand.

Recently there have been a number of incidents where advisers have been killed by either renegade soldiers or police, or by infiltrators posing as security force personnel.  In one humanitarian operation a couple of Army advisers were killed in Iraq.  These men were working with an Iraqi unit in doing humanitarian work in a village. On March 27th Navy LT Florence Choe and LTJG Francis Toner IV were killed by an Afghan insurgent posing as an Afghan Army soldier.  For me these events triggered some anxiety as I remembered how many times I was incredibly exposed to danger from the same kind of events.  A couple of days ago I mentioned that I had been feeling some anxiety that I could not explain.  I finally figured it out.  It began after I read about the death of these Naval Officers serving in Afghanistan. Since then every siren, loud noise and helicopter has raised my alert level.

The advisers are drawn from all services.  They are all Individual Augments that come from both the Active and Reserve components.  They do not deploy with their own units, which means that they go to war with people that they might have trained alongside getting ready for the mission, but otherwise have not served with.  When they come home they go back to their old assignments or new orders and are separated from the men and women that they served alongside for 7 to 15 months.  In other words they are isolated when they return home and go back to places where the majority of personnel, even those who have been “in country” have no earthly idea or appreciation of the conditions that they served in and dangers that they faced.  This happened to me when I returned and I went through an emotional collapse as the PTSD that I did not know I had kicked my ass.  Sights, smells, noises, crowds, airports and in fact almost everything but baseball diamonds caused me to melt down as they all brought the danger back to me. Don’t get me wrong, my tour in Iraq was the highlight of 27 plus years in the military, the part of which I am the most proud.

I have a special place for these men and women.  I served with them in Iraq’s Al Anbar Province as the first Navy Chaplain, and on of the first chaplains of any service to be assigned to cover these teams since Vietnam.  My assistant, RP2 Nelson Lebron and I deployed together from out unit.  I had prepared well.  I had been on the bubble to deploy for months.  My background in military history and past service with both the Army and Marines helped me. Likewise my military and civilian education helped me.  Shortly before we were notified of the deployment I went to the Jordanian Army Peace Operations Training Center course on Iraqi culture, religion and society.  I had served as a chaplain in the trauma department of one of the largest trauma centers in the country.  RP2 Lebron had deployed multiple times to Iraq, Beirut and Afghanistan where he was awarded the Defense Meritorious Service Medal (no small feat for an E-5).  He is also an incredibly gifted boxer, kick boxer and martial artist who has fought on Team USA and holds more title belts than I can count.  He most recently won the Arnold Schwarzenegger Classic. I had served with him before and he knew that his mission was to keep me safe.  I don’t want to sound arrogant, but the Chief of Staff of the Iraq Assistance Group said that we were “the best ministry team he had seen in 28 years in the Army.”

When we went to Al Anbar we were sent out with the Marines and Soldiers advising the 1st and 7th Iraqi Army Divisions, The Iraqi Police, Highway Patrol, the 2nd Border Forces Brigade and Port of Entry Police.  We operated in a area the size of the state of Oregon.  In some cases it would take us 2 days by air and convoy to reach isolated teams on the Syrian border.  When you travel by air in Iraq you are always at the mercy of the weather and aircraft availability. I had the rare privilege as a Lieutenant Commander to be able to arrange all of my own air transportation.  Most people, including people higher ranking than me had to depend on others to do this for them.  We worked with our advisers to get out to them.  We would be out 5-12 days at a time with anywhere from 4 to 7 days between missions.  In our 7 months we traveled over 4500 air miles and 1500 ground miles.  Almost all of our air travel was rotor wing. We flew in CH-46, CH-47 and MH-53s and the MV-22 Osprey.  Our convoys were usually not larger than 3 American HUMMVs and sometimes a few Iraqi vehicles.  Our biggest guns were .50 cal or M240B machine guns.  Most of the time we were in places that had no large forces in position to help us if we got in trouble.  Even on the bases we were isolated.  Our teams were with the Iraqis in almost all cases.  We often ate in Iraqi chow halls and used Iraqi shower trailers.  Our advisers had us meeting their Iraqi counterparts.  We met and dined with Iraqi Generals, had ch’ai (tea) with small groups of Americans and Iraqis and got out with the Bedouins. We were in a number of particularly sensitive and dangerous situations with our advisers.  It was an incredible, once in a lifetime tour serving with some of the greatest Americans and Iraqis around. Iraqi soldiers in with our convoys would ask me to bless their trucks with Holy Water like I was doing with the American trucks.  I came to admire many of the professional Iraqi officers that I came to know and pray for the people of Iraq, that God would grant them peace. They are wonderfully hospitable and gracious.  We were often treated to food and tea by Iraqi soldiers, and civilians.  After nearly 30 years of nearly continous war, dictatorship and terrorism, they deserve peace and security.

iraqi-army-hummv-in-convoy-paused-at-road-junctionCombined US Iraqi Convoy

I had one Iraqi operations officer, a Sunni Muslim tell me that he wished that his Army had Christian priests because they would take care of his soldiers and had no political axe to grind. He said that the Army did not trust most Imams or Mullahs because they had compromised themselves during the civil war.  Another officer, a Shia Muslim came to me to thank me for being there to take care of our Marines.  He said that he, an Iraqi Shia Arab, hoped that if they had any problems from the Persians (Iranians), that we would help them.  These is little truth to what is floated that Iraqi and Iranian Shia like each other.  The memories of the past die hard in the Middle East.  When Persia ruled Iraq they treated the Arabs like dirt. Likewise the memories of the Iran-Iraq war are still alive.  Iraqi Arabs, Sunni, Shia and even Christian have little love for the “Persians.”  General Sabah of the 7th Division had us to his quarters for dinner. We had a wonderful and friendly discussion about similarities and differences in Christianity and Islam. We departed friends. The last time I saw him ws in the Ramadi heliport.  He saw me, ran up to me in from of his staff and Americans in the little terminal and gave me a bear hug, telling all that I was his friend. Another Iraqi General told me just before we left to come back as a tourist in 5 years because everything would be better.  I honestly think that he is right.  I hope to go back someday.  It would be a privilege to see my Iraqi friends again.

This is what our advisers get to do every day. Yes they are exposed to great danger, but they are building bridges between peoples of different history and culture.  They are the unsung heroes of these wars and will likely never get credit for all that they have done.  They have my highest admiration and I hope that if you know one of these men or women that you will thank them.  I pray that they will all come home safe and be blessed with success.  I would certanly serve with them again at any time and in any place.

Please keep the families of LT Choe and LTJG Toner in your prayers. A link about these fine Naval Officers is below. Peace, Steve+

http://afghanistan.pigstye.net/article.php?story=FlorenceBChoe

3rd-bn-mtt-group-with-chaplainWith “Ronin” Advisors to 3rd Bn 3rd Brigade 7th Iraqi Division

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April 6, 2009 · 22:59

Holy Week Superstitions

Holy Week is a funny thing for me.  While I generally look forward to Easter, I always have a sense of foreboding.  I think this actually goes back to childhood.  Family members dying around the time, major events and crisis’s that unfold.  My dad was in Vietnam during Easter 1972 when the North Vietnamese launched their offensive.  So I guess that I’m somewhat superstitious. This week a dear friend lost her father to cancer.  My own parents are not in great shape. My dad lost 7 pounds this month and weighs under 120 pounds.  He is doing worse and worse.

I was talking with one of our attendings today who reminded one of the nurses what weekend was coming up.  She asked why, and he said, think about it, something bad almost always happens around Easter. I patently concurred with the good doctor. My experience in other hospitals always involved really tragic events. It seems that something tragic always happens, a mass murder, a series of tornadoes that wipe out whole towns, fires that kill families, Tsunamis and other events.  This week there has been a killer earthquake in Italy.  I am not alone in the way that I feel. Snopes.com even has a page devoted to Easter superstitions.

So with a twinge of anxiety I face this week.  I do look forward to what this week means. Maunday Thursday, Good Friday and Easter.  I will celebrate each, but at the same time I feel strange. I hope that this is just a bit of PTSD and nothing more.  May everyone experience the joy that Easter  should bring and I pray that no disasters overtake anyone this year. Peace, Steve+

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April 5, 2009 · 22:16

Lenten Journal: Passion Sunday

Lent has been interesting this year.  I did a number of things different. First off I decided that I would try to be happy and not morose.  It seemed to have worked, with few exceptions my mood has definitely been better.

This year I decided to be less concerned with the physical and dietary aspects of Lent.  I actually needed to do this this year. Physically and emotionally I was not as good off as I have been in years past.  As far as Lent was concerned, I had become a slave to the season. Lent had become something to be endured, not enjoyed. Where in the past I would have done things out of a legalistic mindset and obeyed simply because it was written, I did not this year.  This meant I occasionally got a bit of meat on Wednesdays and Fridays. But again, this was not because I was simply defying the rules, I can do that well if I need to, after all I’m a Myers Briggs INTJ, rules need not always apply if they are not helpful.   But I had to do this now, because I had, like the Pharisees before me put the observance of the rules higher than my relationship with Jesus.

Spiritually, because of my emotional state I decided to let go of the daily office for Lent, and Lent only. I will be going back to it on Easter Sunday.  What had happened was that in my rigid adherence to doing it I was grinding myself down to spiritual dust.  I was not reflecting on the Gospels or other readings, I was just doing them.  I was spiritually exhausted. Prayer was becoming forced and rote. I knew that if I continued in this manner I would not be any good for anyone.  Instead of this I simply began to pray on my way to work, and my way home and when I went to bed.  I never prayed for me except in regard to being able to care for others. Sometimes an Our Father, or a Hail Mary, maybe a recitation of a couple of decades of the Rosary, maybe extemporaneous intercessions for people that I know.  Sometimes just a simple thank you to God, after all She does deserve to be thanked at least once in a while.

As far as prayer goes and seeing answers, I guess I am a bad fit in a “Charismatic” church.  I believe that God can heal people. But there were many times early in my hospital ministry that most of the people that I prayed for died.  Talk about having a complex….When I was asked if I would pray for someone I would hesitate.  I would sometimes want to ask  “Are you really sure that you want me to do this?”  Today, working in ICUs and critical care I approach prayer from a glass half-empty or there is something wrong with the glass point of view.  I am not a Pollyanna type of person.  Somewhat jaded, I can be like the Chaplain version of House MD. Yet at the same time I’ve been surprised by Her grace during this Lent.  Things that jaded ICU attending physicians and I but can only chalk up to something really unusual. Possibly even miraculous and maybe even done by the Deity Herself.  Thus this Lenten season has been marked with spiritual surprises.

Instead of beating myself to death to observe rules that were forced on us when it became easy to be a Christian following Constantine (See an earlier Lenten post here), this Lent I decided the Lent let the Deity work Her grace in me.  I decided to get out more and take part more in the life of a local parish. This has been hard since we moved here. I travelled a lot in connection with my assignments and after Iraq I got really wierd about being in crowds of people and really sensitive to noise and light. My wife belongs to a really cool Roman Catholic parish near us, but since Iraq it is just too much for me.  It is big and like I said,  large crowds of people that I don’t know, often unfamiliar worship music and too much exposure to noise and light really get to me. That’s the damned thing about PTSD, it makes simple stuff hard. I used to go to mega-churches, and now the bigger the church the scarier for me.  So I met a wonderful Episcopal Priest, Fr John,  over at the hospital who is the Rector of Saint James Church in Portsmouth.  We became friends. He invited me and I decided to to crawl out of my protective shell that I have lived inside spiritually since Iraq.  The Church is historic, it is the African American church, many of the parishioners had ancestors that were slaves, or who were themselves part of the civil rights movement. Many are prominent in the life of the city. These folks love Jesus and a lot are connected in some way with the military.  The church itself is not large, but is caring and involved in the life of the community.  The Gospel is proclaimed in word and deed.    Since my small denomination has nothing anywhere near me, this has become my local home and I hope to grow in community with these wonderful people of God over the coming years.

Today of course was Passion Sunday. We began with the Liturgy of the Palms outside the church and moved inside singing as we went.  There is nothing like a “high church” primarily African American Episcopal choir that can do both traditional and majestic hymns as well as spirituals and Gospel.  We followed with the Liturgy of the Passion followed by Eucharist.  The service cemented some things that God has been doing in me since I came back from Iraq, and what God has been working in me this season.

I hope that as I celebrate Maunday Thursday and Good Friday services at the Medical Center that God will continue that work in me, and hopefully in some way touch others with Her grace.  For once I am really looking forward with anticipation to Holy Week, for I am not alone.

Peace, Steve+

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March 25, 2009 · 18:51

The Demons of PTSD: Abandonment

The feeling of abandonment and aloneness, separation and disconnection run deep for those returning from unpopular wars in which the majority of the citizens take no part.  The effects are devastating.  It is estimated that at least 100,000 Vietnam veterans have taken their lives in the years after that war.  Last year the Army had its highest number of active duty suicides ever recorded, January and February of 2009 have been banner months for Army suicides.  Of course as I noted in my previous post these numbers don’t include reservists and Guardsmen who have left active duty or veterans dischaged from the service.  Neither do they include the host of service men and women who died from causes undetermined.

Many veterans attempted to return to “normal life” and family following the war. Many only to have marriages fall apart, continue or leave untreated alcohol and drug addictions acquired in country which often follow them back destroying lives, families and careers.  Most felt cast aside and abandoned by the goverment and society. Many got through and return to life with few visible effects, but the scars live on.  My dad would never talk about his experience in the city of An Loc in 1972 where he as a Navy Chief Petty Officer was among a small group of Americans operating an emergency airstrip in the city which was besieged by the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong for 80 days.  I do know that it affected him, he wasn’t the same when he returned, he was a lot more tense and had some problems initially with alcohol.  He never talked about his time there.

I have seen the effects of this in so many lives,  I remember a Vietnam vet who attempted to kill himself with a shotgun blast to the chin in Dallas during my hospital residency.  He forgot to factor in recoil and blew off his face without hitting his brain or any major arteries.  He survived…talk about having something to be depressed about later.  I have seen the tears as veterans rejected by the country during and after than war begin to seek community with their wartime brothers, men who had experienced the same trauma followed by rejection and abandonment by the people that sent them to Southeast Asia.  One only has to talk to veterans of the Ia Drang, Khe Sahn, Hue City, the Central Highlands and Mekong Delta or read their stories to know what they have gone through.  LTG Hal Moore and Joseph Galloway in We Were Soldiers Once..and Young and We are Soldiers Still have deeply penatrating and soul searching views of Vietnam as does Bing West in The Village. Bernard Fall does the same from a French perspective in Hell in a Very Small Place and Street Without Joy. Alistair Horne’s book A Savage War of Peace discusses and tells the story of many French soldiers in Algeria, who fought a war, won it militarily and had their government abandon them, bringing out a mutiny and coup atempt by French Soldiers who had fought in Indochina, were almost immediately back in action in Algeria with little thanks or notice from thier countrymen.  Abandonment is an ever present reality and “demon” for many of us who have served regardless of our nationality, French, Canadien or American who have fought in wars that have not engaged the bulk of our fellow citizens. Go to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC and tocuh it, trace the outline of a name, look upon the makeshift memorials and tokens of remembrance left by comrades who came home and understand the sorrow and the sacrifice.

Unfortunately we would like to think that this is something out of history that we have learned from and applied the lessons and in doing so no longer have an issue.  Unfortunately this is not the case.  There are many, depending on the study anywhere from8-20 percent of returning Iraq and Afghanistan veterans who suffer from some type of PTSD, Combat Stress reaction or other psychological malady incurred during their tour. Similar numbers are reported by the Israeli Armed Forces in from the 1973 War forward.   The British are seeing the same now as their veterans return from war.  Canadian Forces assigned to the UN command during the Rwanda genocide suffer horribly from PTSD. The mission commander, LTG Romeo Dalliare now a Senator in the Canadian Parliament is a leading spokesman for those who suffer from PTSD. His book Shake Hands with the Devil is a study of how military professionals were exposed to atrocities that they either were forbidden to stop or lacked the combat power to do so even if they wanted to.  These men and women tell their story in a video put out by Canadian Armed Forces.

I am not going to rehash stories that I have recounted in my other posts dealing with PTSD here, but both I and many men and women that I know are scarred by the unseen wounds of this war.  We gladly recognize, and rightfully so, those who suffer physical wounds.  At the same time those who are dying inside are often ignored by their commands or if they come out are shunted into programs designed to “fix” them.  In other words make them ready for the next deployment.  I am not saying here that there is an intentional neglect of our service men and women who suffer from PTSD and other issues.  I do not think that is the case, but it is a fact of life. The military is shorthanded and stretched to the breaking point. Many Army Soldiers and US Marines have made 3-5 deployments since 2003. The Navy has sent over 50,000 sailors, not including those assigned with the Marines into “Individual Augmentation” billets in support of operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Horn of Africa and other fronts in this war.  The Navy personnel, as well as Air Force personnel who perform similar missions often do not have the luxury of going to war and coming home with a particular unit.  We serve often in isolation and incredibly disconnected from our commands, our service is often misunderstood.  Now there are efforts by the services and some commands to do things better to support our sailors, some of these at my own hospital.  However as an institution the military has not fully made the adjustment yet.

Many sailors feel abandoned by the country and sometimes, especially when deployed by the Navy itself.  I have debriefed hundreds of these men and women.  Almost all report anger and use terms such as being abandon, cut off and thrown away by the service and the country.  Those from all services who work in unusual joint billets such as advisers to local military and police forces in Afghanistan and Iraq feel a sense of kinship with each other, often feel a connection to the Iraqis and Afghans but are often not promoted or advanced at the same rate as others who have served in conventional forces in traditional jobs.  There was a film called Go tell the Spartans staring Burt Lancaster about Army advisers in the early stages of Vietnam.  If you see it and have been to Iraq with our advisers you can see some of the same dynamics at work.

At this point we are still engaged in Iraq and Afghanistan.  These wars divided the nation and the veterans, though better treated and appreciated by society than most of thier Vietnam counterparts have no memorial.  Words of thanks uttered by politicans and punits abound, our Vietnam era and other fellow veterans in their latter years come to the airports that we fly in and out of to say thank you, but our numbers are rising, the war rages on both in country and in our minds and lives are being lost long after soldiers have left the battlefield.

We have to do a better job of ensuring that those who sacrifice so much do not feel that they have been cut off and abandoned while they are in theater and especially when they return. When it is time we need a memorial on the Capitol Mall for those who served in these wars.  I don’t know when that will be, but I do hope to see it in my day.  Sure it’s only symbolic, but symbols can be healing too, just look at the black granite wall rising up from the ground and going back down into it, filled with the names of those who gave their lives and made the supreme sacrifice in Southeast Asia.  Simply known by most as “the Wall” it has become a place of healing and rememberance.  A place to say thank you, goodbye and amen.

Peace and blessings, Steve+

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