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Spent memorial day thinking about my father, who served in Vietnam, then died later in life due to agent orange exposure. I'll pass along a few things he expressed to me.
My Dad came back from Vietnam with chronic depression. When he returned to the states, he didn't tell anyone. Instead, he got a room at a hotel, and stayed there for weeks without communicating with anyone.
He became an alcoholic soon after, and struggled throughout his life. When he had me (against all odds, my parents were older because my mom had breast cancer at a young age, I came along after she recovered), he sobered up; I was his motivation to get better.
My Dad spoke bitterly about being drafted. He told me he saw men do things that traumatized him for life, and felt the way society tried to convince him that it was an honor to fight, an honor to suffer in the war, was bullshit. Glamorized bullshit.
He felt it ugly, senseless, and felt the military placated him and his fellow soldiers, deceiving them into thinking it was such a great honor to fight, when all it was was ugly, traumatizing, and humiliating.
He spent the rest of my life listening to anti-war songs and anthems of peace. My grandfather, who fought in WW2 and was awarded a silver star, refused to talk about it, and if he did, he expressed similar sentiments. He hated the award, and never brought it out.
My Dad found no respect in serving, then died as a consequence of his service. But I DO honor and respect him for his experience, his wisdom, and his caring nature. Thank you, Dad. I think about you always, and I'll listen to Neil Diamond just for you.
But not Heartlight. That song blows.
Update: @mk_tbone is now broadcasting Heartlight on every speaker.
