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Ann McFeatters: How you can honor our Vietnam vets

Guest Post from the Dallas Morning News:

By ANN MCFEATTERS

Published: 05 March 2015 07:27 PM

The man who said his name was Danny arrived at my door with a huge floral box. Inside was one of the most beautiful bouquets I’d ever seen.

Danny was with the Maryland highway department, supervising a crew installing new curbs on my street. He was also a Vietnam veteran who had seen the small blue star in my window, indicating two family members were serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Danny came from a generation that provided 9.2 million people who served in the military during the Vietnam era, many of whom came home from war reviled, not thanked for what they gave their country. Like most of his fellow veterans, Danny vowed to show only gratitude to those in military service, no matter what the politics of any current war that service members are called on to fight. Flowers to a stranger were to thank my family.

This month marks the 50th anniversary of the arrival of 3,500 Marines in Da Nang, South Vietnam, beginning 10 years of a terrible conflict that would sear and scar this nation.

In the “lessons learned” department, perhaps the most important is to separate the warrior from the war. Today Americans of all political stripes express sincere appreciation for what the men and women of the armed forces are called on to do for their country, whether the mission is popular or not.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the mall in the nation’s capital, with its awesome wall designed by Maya Lin, engraved with the names of 58,300 people who gave their lives in the jungles of Southeast Asia, was meant as one way toward healing a divided, bitter country.

It has worked. The three-acre memorial with its gardens, wall, Vietnam Women’s Memorial and The Three Servicemen statue, is visited by 4.5 million people a year. Its website, with photos and information on veterans and messages from their friends and families, draws 4 million virtual visitors annually.

The veteran behind the memorial, Jan Scruggs, a man of enormous personality and drive who raised the $8 million needed to begin implementation of it, is retiring this year.

One way the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund plans to honor him and all the war’s veterans is to raise money for a $116 million underground education center to display some of the 400,000 personal items left at the wall by visitors, a unique occurrence which stunned the memorial’s founders.

From teddy bears to tear-stained letters, the items, stored in boxes maintained by the National Park Service, which owns the memorial, tell powerful stories.

Approved by Congress with no funding, the education center needs donations from the public if it is to be ready for a ribbon-cutting ceremony in 2020. Most of all, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund wants future generations to learn about the Vietnam era, how decisions were made and what they meant to the nation.

Tomorrow’s fifth-graders must learn they owe a debt to those who came before them and that they, too, must leave a legacy of service, the best way they are able. Technology will give them access to such things as digital oral histories from veterans and TV footage of the first war played out in the nation’s living rooms.

There are 7 million living Vietnam War veterans. Beyond those who died or went missing there, Vietnam veterans are still dying of injuries sustained in the war, such as exposure to Agent Orange and post-traumatic stress disorder. The fund’s CEO, Jim Knotts, a Desert Storm veteran, stresses that these veterans must be honored, and that good health care for all veterans must be a national priority.

Because of space restrictions, the education center will be the last major memorial built on the National Mall. Fifty years after the start of the Vietnam War, it is time to take the next step in honoring those who fought it, whether they wanted to or not.

Here’s to you, Danny, and all those like you.

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

 

            If you have never been to Lubbock, Texas it is a flat, dry, and very youngAmericanCity. It was founded in 1911 which was a bit surprising considering that today it is home to around 250 thousand people as well as the well-knownTexasTechUniversity. TTU has the largest campus of any university in the United States and an attendance of close to 35,000 students. There are few places one can go where they don’t see some logo or item related to the Red Raiders. I must admit I really liked their black, red, and gray colors…. a very classy look for their entire plethora of apparel, knick-knacks, jewelry, poster, etc. Texas Tech is also home to the largest Vietnam archives in the world.  People from anywhere in the world can access their files through internet with little or no cost.

However, here is what impressed us the most about the university and its personnel, it is a very veteran friendly campus and tries to honor its veterans and their families every day. Last week, before Veteran’s Day, it hosted a four day event celebrating veterans and families. On Wednesday they oversaw their first Veteran’sSummit. It was a day of learning about the challenges of returning from war and transitioning into a community where less than one percent of the population has been fighting the last ten years in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Various professionals, including Tony and I, spoke of the difficulties of living with Post Traumatic Stress and Traumatic Brain Injuries.  A doctor addressed the complexities of vision problems veterans face. Several veterans, including a panel of four young men who served in Iraq and Afghanistan, shared their experiences in combat and how that impacted their ability to reintegrate back into their families and neighborhoods. Their stories were both heartbreaking and informative. COL David Lewis shared what Lubbock is doing for veterans along with how essential it is for every community to have a Veteran’s Court that deals with those who find themselves involved with actions that landed them in jail or mental health facilities.

Friday evening, the community and university put on a banquet for Purple Heart Recipients and their families. Several Gold Star families (those who have lost loved ones) were part of the event and Medal of Honor Recipient, Doc Ballard fromKansas City, was the Keynote Speaker.

One of the most remarkable parts of the four day events was when almost 500 Purple Heart Recipients were treated to the Texas Tech football game. Before the game began, paratroopers floated into the stadium with Old Glory flying behind them. One of the jumpers was Dana Bowman, a veteran who had lost both legs in a fatal skydiving demonstration in 2001. His courage is a testament to how incredibly resilient our men and women in military are when they are in combat and even more so when they return. As he stated in his speech, “It is not the disability, it is the ability” that matters.

For most Americans who have never had to fight for our precious Freedom few realize – especially our young population – what it is to live without Freedom. We must all guard against complacency and never take for granted the gift that each American has been given because of the service of our military.  God Bless our armed forces and our many veterans and their families. Freedom is never free.  Let’s support and heal all of our veterans every day of every year, not just honor them one day a year. It is the least we can do.

by Tony & Janet Seahorn

            The human heart and mind are amazing in their capacity to experience intense sadness and abundant gratitude at the same time. That lump in the throat is still there as are the tears that cloud my eyes. Yet, the weight of the death of our wonderful Chase seems to be a bit lighter.

            Earlier this week, we visited Chase’s most beloved mountain meadow, high on the Snowy Range in southern Wyoming. It is a beautiful, alpine meadow filled with wild flowers and a running brook. This is the place we chose to spread his ashes and place a stone memorial on a wooded ridge overlooking the peaceful valley below. 

            We promised to make this journey after the early summer snow melt and before the wildflowers were in full bloom.

            His very essence now glides in the winds and rolls gently with the flowing water. White and yellow flowers line his final path. He is at peace, as are we. And younger brother Bailey still romps through the brightly colored grasses chasing after his cherished tennis ball – a reminder that joy is always present around and within our souls.

            As we paid our final respects it seemed as if Chase was giving us his final message:

I am now in my meadow; my ashes white as angels’ wings float with the Wind and flow through the mountain streams to places I never ran in life. 

Peace and beauty will always surround me with a green and white and purple blanket of sweet columbines.        

This is where I was finally meant to be.

Therefore, honor me not with tears of sadness, but with hearts of joyfulness.

                              Remember me with stories and laughter.                               

And most of all know that as much as you loved me I loved you even more.

 

Black Forest Chase

April 23, 1999 – January 4, 2013

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

            Plucking Tears is not an easy thing to do, especially when the water works fall faster than you can pluck. Another problem to consider is how do you pluck tears when they are inside your heart and soul? These water drops are harder to access. Many times some do not even recognize they are weeping. The suffering is so silent, so hard to define that outsiders rarely, if ever, observe the sobs.

 

            War is an extreme opportunity to frequently pluck tears. There are tears of grief, tears of sadness, tears of loss, tears of confusion, and the list could go on and on. As soon as you think you are done with the weeping, it returns for another round. It takes an emotionally powerful person to allow tears. Most of us are afraid if we start the crying we may not be able to stop. It is a frightening thought. Yet, whether we allow ourselves to cry openly on the outside, the sobbing will move through our spirits.

 

            I once heard that some wars are GOOD wars. For me, there is no such thing as a good war. There may be “just” wars, but even then this does not make war good. All wars cause a great deal of woundedness. Woundedness for those fighting the battles, and woundedness for anyone close to the combat zone. Communities are devastated by the carnage left behind, families are torn apart, and individuals carry the scars forever. War gives a great many people frequent occasions to Pluck Tears. Wouldn’t it be great if we could get just a bit of peace from the plucking?

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

            There are few things in life that can take your mind off trouble more than a special day on a beautiful river. Last week the Platte Valley Trout Unlimited Chapter located in Saratoga, Wyoming had the opportunity to take a group of wounded veterans from the Cheyenne VA Medical Center on just such a trip. The excursion began with an amazing barbecue put on by members of the chapter and local volunteers. It seemed like almost everyone in the community wanted to contribute something from ice cream to napkins. Children from 4-H served food, helped clean up, and simply added their youthful energy to the evening.

            The next morning began early with breakfast which proved there is nothing wrong with a warrior’s appetite. Then off to the river, which is a logistical bussle of shuttling boats, equipment and people to one of the river’s launch site. Vice-President and project coordinator of the Trout Unlimited Chapter, Steve Hays, was a bundle of nerves as he wanted to make sure every detail of this event went perfectly. Again, all the shuttle drivers, helpers, boats, and guides donated their time and efforts to making the fishing trip an amazing experience.

            The guardian angels of fishing trips could not have arranged a more beautiful day for a float. The water was dazzling with light, birds seemed to have arranged their chorus of unique songs for entertainment, and even the fish were cooperative. Private angling lessons were given throughout the day which proved to be quite successful for most of the veterans. Two warriors demonstrated their angling abilities by catching ten or more fish. Since the North Platte River has been running at flood stage since mid-May, having the water and its inhabitants somewhat normal was a real gift.

            Yet, the most significant result of the float trip was its therapeutic benefits to the wounded warriors. Most of the group had not known each other before the overnight trip. What they found from these precious, short twenty-four hours is recorded in their comments below:

• I can’t believe people care that much about us.
• I had no idea other veterans continue to struggle with PTSD; I thought I was just weak.
• I really needed this… it’s been a long time since I felt I could relax and feel safe.
• The whole experience has been a true blessing.
• This is what makes healing happen.
• That was one of the best days of my life.

              Formal therapy can and is very helpful to many military individuals healing from the trauma of combat. But it is only one ingredient of the recipe. Being with others who have suffered similar wounds, knowing that others care and appreciate their sacrifices and experiencing the beauty and serenity of nature offers one a sense of peace, safety, and the faith that perhaps some divine presence may truly be keeping watch over them.

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

 Yep, Fishing Therapy… the new, ground-breaking, effective line of defense against the scars of war.

 

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

            For many of our military men and women who return from combat there is a burning question; a question that asks, “Who am I?”  Who am I now that I have seen so much, done so much, and heard the despair of so many? For some there may be a feeling of unworthiness, a gnawing numbness of pain. They seek answers that seem to elude them; answers hidden somewhere between the battle fields and the present.

           

            Every person wants to be validated in the world: to be seen, to be heard, to be felt.  Returning from war often leaves a person with a sense of invisibility. A feeling that adds to the question, Who am I … this other person who wanders a world that once was so familiar now feels like a drifter in a land that may not seem recognizable.

 

            Know this one simple truth, You are worthy of love. You are worthy of goodness. You are worthy of a life of joy and personal fulfillment. The trick is not that others view you as worthy. You must believe this for yourself. “You are responsible for your life”. And only You can create and live such a life. You alone must believe that you are worthy to live a good life and a life of meaning.

           

            Combat can take one’s sense of self, but it does not take away one’s need to be a part of something, some mission, some worthy cause. The heartbreaking reality for many veterans is returning from battle with a frame of mind of being untrained to live in civilian society. You will need to work hard to find your path in this world after combat. No one can do this for you. It is a journey each individual will need to travel and seek out.

 

Some doubt they are up to the challenge. This is purely self deception. If you could be trained to perform all of the incredible feats of a skilled warrior, you certainly have the strength, intelligence and willpower to succeed in becoming your very best “I AM”.  The gift has always been yours. It was bestowed on you at birth. The outside world may work hard to convince you otherwise. Some days it may be tempting to give up the search. But carry on. In your hands lies the power to choose.

 

Choose to accept your very best I AM.

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

We reside within our own wondrous environment, within ourselves, and wander about the internal hills and valleys everyday. If we are lucky and have lived a full life, the landscape of our inner country is filled with incredible diversity.

Mountains and valleys only have depth based on the extent of our experiences. The brilliant hues of colors cannot be painted on an empty canvas. Nope, such vividness is achieved through a great many life events: joy, grief, humility, arrogance, chaos, serenity… all mixed throughout the years.

Yet, through all our trials and triumphs, with a bit of luck, our inner artist refuses to put down the paintbrush. Each day offers elements to add to the internal country; an element that increases the vastness of the spirit. Within ourselves we wander with purpose and courage. Trauma takes a toll which only hope can overcome.

We become our best selves not because we lived a safe, comfortable life, but because we have fully lived. There is a huge difference between a life of ease and one of worth. The first took little effort; the latter required a deep sense of duty, sacrifice, relentless perseverance, and sometimes tears. All of these make a life of worth a special gift to the world. A gift that lives far beyond our short existence.

Which life have your lived so far. Which life are you living now? What would your canvas look like? Certainly, like any remarkable work of art, it would have its dark contrasts; yet, I hope it would also contain sweeps of light, touches of brilliant colors, and areas of tender hues which embrace a sense of peace and serenity.

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

            There is a phrase that one hears every now and then, Hidden in Plain Sight. Four simple words that eloquently reveal the complexity of the impact of trauma on one’s mind, heart, and soul. We see the person; we look at the eyes, the body language, the being’s form. The suffering is present in plain sight for all to witness. Yet, few do, lacking the keen observational heart skills required to notice anguish.

 

            There are days I wish I didn’t see it – the faces of children battered by abuse and neglect; the adolescent’s depressive absorption into the ugly world of alcohol and drugs, and the veiled, but ever present ghosts of veterans, young and old carrying their memories of war. They haunt me as the world moves around their pain because it is hidden in plain sight.

 

            Much like ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’, we are a nation that prefers to maintain our equilibrium at all cost. We tend to be uncomfortable with sorrow even when it stands knocking at our front door asking only for recognition and a bit of compassion.

 

            We say we are a nation of empathy, yet often dismiss the humanity that exists in every person, especially those with whom we don’t agree. We argue we are intelligent, proficient thinkers, yet fight rigorously to disqualify any information that does not align with our personal paradigms/beliefs, whether true or misleading, without accurate evidence or data.

 

            The answers to our current and future problems are available, but for too many they are hidden in plain sight. It will take incredible courage to look into our own minds and hearts searching for what is right and true. It will take courage and honest self-reflection to heal the hidden wounds of the wounded, but it can be done. What lies before us does not need to consume us with fear or apprehension. When confronted, trauma and pain can be overcome and no longer hidden or carried alone.

 

 

               Light and sunshine are incredible healers.  

 by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

            Hard to believe it is the end of 2010.  What an interesting year this has been. Most of our days have been filled with many blessings of meeting new friends, spending time with old ones and beloved family members, taking part in all of nature’s wonderful opportunities, and just having some time for personal rest and relaxation. To close out this year, I thought I would mention just a few of our many blessings.

 

 

While Tony was going through some medical tests at the Cheyenne Vet Hospital last week, I met a very large great Dane named Scooby Doo. He was a rescue dog who became a therapy companion for one of the wheelchair bound vets. While others believed this dog was vicious and untrainable (due to abuse from several prior families), the vet saw goodness and potential. Turns out that love does make a difference and Scooby Doo is living proof.

 

            As stated, spending time with family and friends is always at the top of our list. There are never enough minutes in the year to let others know how much they mean to us. How their phone calls, get-togethers and small interactions are the best rewards of every day.

 

            Being able to attend several veteran’s reunions and conventions humbled us greatly. Meeting with the Black Lions in Las Vegas, Nevada, showed us again the enormous sacrifice vets give. This particular group endured some of the worst combat missions in the Vietnam War, yet they continue to move forward every day with hope and courage. In August we were guest speakers at the annual Nebraska Vets Convention in Norfolk, NE. The veterans and their spouses were so gracious, we enjoyed the entire event.

 

            In June Tony was the keynote speaker for Project Healing Waters’ annual organizational meeting. The conference was held in Steamboat Springs, CO, a truly stunning and perfect setting for an organization dedicated to introducing wounded vets to the beauty and peace of fly fishing. Often times, nature and our four-legged, long tongued companions are the best medicine for a tattered spirit and injured body.

 

 

          For Memorial Day, we traveled to Evanston, WY to speak to a patriotic community and address the sacrifices made by all veterans from all generations.

 

The return home from Iraq of the Wyoming National Guard in March was a moment of jubilation that words can’t quite describe. Families who diligently carried on everyday duties without their loved ones were significantly relieved to finally have the tour of duty complete. Then in February, a group of citizens from Ft. Collins purchased and presented a beautiful Quilt of Valor to the Fort Collins Veterans Center. The quilt was made by Donna Roche in Rogers, Arkansas. Her group of quilters sends quilts overseas to various vet hospitals in the US as gifts of comfort and hope to wounded warriors.

 

We hope your list of items holds similar stories of warm get-togethers, memorable adventures, and quiet gratefulness. Thank you again for your many comments, your support, and most of all your immeasurable service to our country.

 

Jan and Tony

We included this in last year’s blog. Here it is again.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

“What are you doing?” I asked without fear,
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said “Its really all right,

I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.”
“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at ‘ Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘ Nam ‘,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.

“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.”

“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you’ve done, For
being away from your wife and your son.”
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, “
Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.

Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.

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