WHAT TO DO ABOUT THE HOLIDAYS…

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by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

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            It is time to begin a new Holiday Season. Dang, some stores started playing their carols, displaying Christmas ornaments, and advertising the grandness of spending oneself into shopping debt even before Halloween! I truly expected someone dressed as a reindeer or elf to ring my doorbell for trick or treat. 

            Now, don’t get me wrong I love Christmas. Really! It is my favorite holiday. Almost everything about it is a special time filled with amazing sights, fragrant smells of evergreen trees, bells, carols, and my list goes on and on. I even enjoy buying a few gifts for family and friends, and I make sure that Tony NEVER accompanies me on these shopping excursions. The Grinch is one of his Christmas heroes which, as you can imagine, puts a huge damper on my jolly shopping expeditions.

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            Therefore, as we begin this new 2011 Holiday Season, I thought I would put down a few ideas of how to survive the coming days.

  1. Begin your new Weight Watchers diet. Watch others eat less and lose while you wait and enjoy every morsel of goodies you can grab.  As military veterans, you had far too many C-Rations or MREs to endure food rations now.
  2. Don’t start off on the wrong foot at Thanksgiving, give away leftover turkey and celery to guests, but keep the pumpkin pie at all cost.
  3. If you have to ask for seconds, you are already sitting at the wrong table.
  4. If you are the wife of an anti-shopping Grinch, pray for them daily. We’re still a month until Christmas. You can even offer to share your Prozac if they become overly anxious during this joyous (hectic) time of year.
  5. If you are the Grinch, breath deep, meditate, and appreciate that the Holiday season only comes once a year, even if it seems to be coming earlier each year.
  6. And, last, if you are worried about excessive shopping and overspending, the banks don’t seem to care if anyone follows a budget anymore, so I’m sure they will extend your credit for say, the next thirty years.

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Seriously, I definitely understand the challenges of trying to negotiate the many pitfalls and stimulations of the Holidays and not just for veterans. For many, it is never an easy time of year, which is the reason why I decided to begin this season’s blog with a bit of humor. Some of us are going to need to store up as much hilarity as possible if we are to survive the absurdity ahead.

You see, I am really, really, really trying to stay on Santa’s “Nice” list.

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FROM A DREAM TO REALITY

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by Tony & Janet Seahorn

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            It is Sunday afternoon, and the end of a long and humbling Veteran’s Day week. The weather changes quickly from wind, to clouds, to warm sunshine and finally a few drizzles. It seems to be mirroring the lives of many of the individuals attending the opening dedication of the Northern Colorado Veteran’s Plaza. Most of the attendees are veterans spanning several generations of war. They, like the day’s weather, have lived with the clouds of battle, the warmth of joy, and at times a torrent of tears.

 

            Those tears were the beginning of the dedication. The bridge which transports people from the main roadway into the park, now home to the new Veteran’s Plaza, was consecrated as Sergeant Nick Walsh Way.  Sergeant Walsh died in Iraq in 2007. His parents, family, and fellow Marines watched as the new signage was unveiled; it was evident that the Price of Freedom has to be incredibly steep for those who serve along with their families who sacrifice along with them. Perhaps the bridge will serve as a reminder of hope – a transition from sorrow to comfort and from death to strength.

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            The Veteran’s Plaza is not a memorial to those who died. No, this sacred ground extends far beyond a loss. The Plaza will serve as a reminder of unselfish sacrifice and courage. It is a place where present and future generations can go to reflect on the courage of others and learn from their past. The garden is filled with soils from battlegrounds throughout our history: Iwo Jima, Normandy, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan…  This special earth, once stained from the carnage of different wars, now supports the plants that flourish showing us again that biblical saying, “from death into life”.

 

            Now, for the best part of this story — the Veteran’s Plaza was the dream of one man, Major Diggs Brown, a Special Forces Veteran living in Fort Collins, CO. He was inspired to make a difference after attending the funeral of Sergeant Walsh.

 

            Soon thereafter, he gathered community members, veterans and numerous organizations and created a “Plaza” committee. The group worked tirelessly for two years, soliciting donations, holding fundraisers, brainstorming and promoting the vision.

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            Today was a testimony to what an idea can become with planning, hard work, creativity, and most of all, a Dream.

 

THE CONVERSATION

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This is a guest post submitted by Ben Heath:

“The conversation was the result of a long day I spent at Arlington to visit three brothers I lost.”

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One simple grave among a sea of others. Thousands of them in all directions, collection of brothers gathering for years.

How could a place ever come to be? How much pain? How much suffering, blood, sweat and tears?

This one before me now though, it was different from the rest. It’s the one that had brought me to this place.

You see, this one here was the brother –I still had to face.

It’s a conversation I’d dreaded for years. I knew he’d be there.

Lost in my thoughts, loaded with burdens I thought I had to bear.

It didn’t take him long, not sure if I was really ready.

I was determined to hold my ground. Stand strong. Stand steady.

He was just as I’d remembered, all dirty, hard lookin and thin.

Bastard was just standin there lookin, with that familiar shit eatin grin.

I spent a long minute, trying to talk. Spittin an cussin, choked up, stuttering, not knowin what to say.

How does one express the feelings, the sorrow left from that horrible, horrible day.

Then in an amused voice, I heard him say—At Ease Brother, why you so tense?

We’re all brothers here. You not makin any sense.

The conversation eased some as he let me off the hook.

He could tell I was struggling. I’m sure I had the look.

He said— Look man, I’m gonna lay it all out for you, so listen to me good.

No excuses, No apologies, Move forward. It’s always where we stood.

Every battlefield takes some brothers; some are just bound to fall.

Others gotta keep movin, fight the fight, raise our flag up proud and tall.

They say those of us here, are the heroes. Cause we gave the ultimate sacrifice.

You guys that made it home, Hell, you gotta get on with ya life.

Don’t worry about us brother. We are all at peace here.

You the one got to deal with the memories year after year after year.

You don’t owe us nuthin; just remember one thing I say.

We did it all for the young ones. Be sure you show em the way.

It wasn’t easy for you to come here, shows you still got some of ya bold.

Now go back to your family. I can see you’re shivering from the cold.

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Oh yeah!! One more thing I forgot.

One of the perks to this place — Beers always cold.

Go now in piece. Not one more day should you bother.

Cause no matter what.  I STILL LOVE YOU BROTHER!!

Ben Heath

Desert Storm Veteran

I Think He’s A Soldier

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This is a guest post submitted by Ben Heath:

“The following is a general description of most soldiers I knew.”

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It no longer fazes him to have a grisly old sergeant screaming in his ear, but his palms get sweaty and he can’t say a word when a pretty girl smiles at him.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He will eat cold grub covered in dirt and sand and think nothing of it. Bring him a burger with onions he didn’t order, and he’ll pitch a fit.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He will run in the rain and push his body until total collapse to carry his load, but if mom asks him take out the trash, he will roll his eyes like a complete brat.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He will dive from a plane at eight hundred feet moving three hundred mile an hour without pause, but the site of a needle makes him go weak in the knees.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He will attack and kill the enemy with a ferociousness his own mother wouldn’t recognize, yet the site of a suffering child will bring him to tears.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He can wade through mangled bodies and untold carnage, but he can’t legally drink a beer to unwind.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He’s seen more evil and suffering in a year than most will see in a lifetime, and his favorite reading material is still a comic book.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

He is selfish, sarcastic, and sometimes down right mean with his buddies, but he will give his life for them as a matter of pure reaction with no thought given.

  Is he a man or a boy?

 

I THINK HE’S A SOLDIER.

by Deborah A Maffucci

 airforce-wwii1This blog was sent via an e-mail letter last week.  Deborah has kindly allowed us to share her comments with our readers. 

Growing up, my knowledge of my dad’s war experience went no further than, “My dad was in   WW II and I think he was stationed in England.” 

      On advice from my therapist, I decided to go to the attic and find my dad’s discharge papers.  Oh my!!!  After hours of online research (which is amazingly complete) for the first time I realized that my dad was right in the “thick of WWII”

     He was 22 years old in 1942 when he joined the USAAF to fight in the European Theatre in WW II.  He received four medals and a Presidential Unit Citation.  He was at Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge and Rhineland.  He was a Technical Sgt. in the 8th Air Force Fighter Command, 66th Fighter Wing, 339th Fighter Group, 504th Fighting Squadron.  Oh my stars !!!   He was a soldier.  

      I needed to read about what it is really like to be a soldier.  I found your book, “Tears of a Warrior” at my local library and read it almost in one sitting.  I couldn’t put it down.   A whole world of understanding and compassion for my dad has been felt in my heart.  A sense of awakening and belief that I will feel much more true joy and happiness and conquer my life long feelings of anxiety, fear and depression.  

      I realize now that I am trying to heal from the secondary PTSD that comes from living with a combat warrior and not knowing it. There was no time for my dad to heal because he died in 1969 from cancer.  I realize my dad’s war experiences must have been the true source of our family struggle.  It wasn’t because my dad didn’t love us, or because he would rather spend all his time at the firehouse, the VFW or the Elks Club, he was a warrior.  I understand why he loved being a fireman, he was draw to the danger, why he abused alcohol, to block out his war memories, why he yelled so much, he was a sergeant.  All my childhood memories make sense now. Your book has put my life story in prospective.  Thank you for that long awaited insight. !!!  

      My dad was a combat warrior and I never knew it.  I just want to give him the biggest hug right now and tell him how proud I am of him.  From 1945 until Dec 7th 1969 when he died, he was fighting WWII in his mind and body.   

     You have truly helped me to understand what happened to my dad in the war and what he must have struggled with after the war. I hold him in a new and special place in my heart.

    God bless you, 

    Debbie Maffucci

 P.S.   I borrowed your book from the Jesup Library in Bar Harbor, Maine. I believe it was only hours after you so graciously donated a copy to our town. I have recommended it to my counselor to use in her therapy work.