I came whizzing up to the air pump to inflate my tires, hopped out and removed the first cap. Before I knelt down to check the pressure, the aging man using the hose opposite me, gestured the hose upward to offer it to me. I saw that he wasn’t finished, so I thanked him and told him I’d wait.
When he brought the hose over to me, he offered to help. I graciously consented, and the customary Southern chitchat began. The weather. The children in the car. Who’s your people. What you do. The patch on his uniform said “Henry;” he saw me looking, and volunteered, “They call me Buddy.”
He took a cap out of my palm after he finished each tire. “You’ve got such tiny hands,” he observed. As I laughed, he abruptly changed the subject, perhaps fearing he may have edged a little too close to being personal. “Do you have anything against Vietnam Vets?” he quietly asked.
“No,” I answered, looking him in the eye. “Only deep gratitude for your service and for my freedom.”
His eyes teared slightly as he told me about how painful his reception was when he came home. He described some of the horrors he endured where he served up in the Delta, then landing on American soil and having a protester urinate on him as he walked off the plane and across the tarmac, amid the abusive epithets. Then came the year in the hospital. And the years of disability. And the broken families and the broken lives and the broken hearts.
And his broken spirit.
“I’ve probably said too much,” he said, screwing the cap on the last tire.
“Not at all,” I assured him. I told him how important his story is, and how it needs to be heard. I thanked him for sharing, and again for his service, and how sad I was that American patriotism has, in many ways, gone up in smoke…how sad that a vet should even have to cautiously ask if a citizen has anything against him or his duty. How I question why we don’t do more to care for our vets.
How I hope Buddy knows how much he is loved and appreciated.
[…] on my mantle, for the nearby sunken Oriskany, for my son of a son of a sailor, and heroes like Buddy and […]
What a fine example of honoring one who so willingly serves, and in such a critical time of life. I am blessed to know about your grandfather, and I am so happy for your family having that quality time with him. If only other countries’ governments had such priorities! Australia has always been a good example for the rest of us. And I appreciate your sharing exactly how that comes to play on a personal level.
Buddy shared with me that although he’d been retired, the pension and benefits were barely enough, but that going back to work helped keep him focused on good things and gave him an opportunity to help others. He said, “My company was good enough to hire me, even though I have all these problems and I miss a lot of time. They let me come when I can, because they know it keeps me sane.” I salute the employers who recognize the government’s shortfalls, and help to sew patches of hope into the fabric of our society.
Thank you for the sweet comment on my grandfather. Though I would by no means tout that our government has it all worked out, I lived for 10 years in the US and saw and heard unending stories about vets and what seemed to be sub-par treatment. It is such a shame. I agree with you they the companies that let a man like this come to work as and when he can (if that’s what he wants to do) and appreciates him for it and gives him meaning – this is all a wonderful thing, but the fact that he needs to do this to get by…not so wonderful. Thank you again for sharing your personal story with us so that we may think a little harder about what our priorities are and how we treat people around us whose stories we do not know. You have a wonderful way with the written word that helps one feel as though they were there with you!
Karyn, thank you for your passionate response. I agree, and would like to see our veterans housed in resort communities with 18-hole golf courses with all the medical, psychological and spiritual services they could ever want or need. They’d have the option of beachfront, mountain or desert locale. Annual all-expenses-paid vacations. Full benefits, with generous stipends. Optional work or volunteer programs. And that’s just the start of my vision…
I live in Australia and my grandfather fought in the Second World war and ended up in Changi – a notable prisoner-of-war camp with a very bad reputation. He was 91 last year when he died. The year before he passed the government paid for him to have an all-expenses paid trip to another state to have a bionic ear put in (he was almost deaf) – groundbreaking stuff that was new and incredibly expensive.
He was 90 years old and had prostate cancer at the time, yet our government saw fit to give him the best treatment that was available even though the odds of him using it for more than a year were slim given his prognosis – and they were right. He used it for about 18 months before he passed away.
But for those 18 months he could hear and talk with his grand kids again, he could converse freely with his wife instead of with hand signals and yelling, he could talk with me (his grandchild) and great grandchild who were at the time living on the other side of the world on the phone.
For 18 months he had quality of life he never dreamed would again be possible. I am forever grateful to the Australian government for giving him that dignity.
And through it all he and my grandmother marveled at how wonderfully they were treated by the medical personnel and the number of times he was thanked for this service.
He also received double the regular retirement benefits from the government for life, as does his widow. Is it enough? I cant imagine what would be, but it was a good start.
This makes me so mad! While I too often disagree with the governments and bureaucrats and their reasoning for going to war, I am ashamed to be a part of a human race that would make any man or woman feel less than treasured, appreciated and honored for the service they give to their countries and the job they do – risking their lives so that we may have our freedoms. Shame on us that we should do such a thing to the innocent victims in our war with the men in suits. This is akin to blaming a child for their molesters sin! Thank you for this thought-provoking post that spelled out so eloquently your snapshot into this mans world – and what he gave up in service to us.
Found you through the flamingo festival – and so glad. What a touching post!
Thank you, Renee. I am also grateful for our fellow flamingos – what a powerful way to connect. You have a beautiful blog!
Every opportunity to prop up those who need a little assistance is really what lie is about.
Yes, and a little more propping (in action, not theory) seems necessary. Thanks for visiting, fellow flamingo!
I live within walking distance of a Veteran’s hospital, and understand this situation all too well…
So heartbreaking….