REMEMBERING VETS

November 14th, 2010

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D
Tears of a Warrior

It is cold outside.

I just got home from my last lecture session. Needless to say it was quite interesting as the entire week I have been battling a bad cold and struggling with losing my voice.

Today, there was no voice. Trying to deliver a lecture with laryngitis is a challenge. Hence, I put all of my “words” on my wonderful PowerPoint and proceeded with the lesson.

Since the week is Veteran’s Day week, I decided I would do something different for my university classes. I would talk about the LITERACY of WAR: the vocabulary, the literature, the stories, and of course, the effects of war on both the veteran and the families.

My first slide said this:

My husband is a Vietnam veteran who was a young officer and served in the jungles between the borders of Cambodia and Vietnam. He witnessed a great deal of bloody battles and lost many men. He has two Purple Hearts. The last one he received after being severely wounded.  Out of 130 men, only 19 walked away without any injuries. The rest were either killed or wounded. Yesterday I asked if he would like to be the guest speaker for today’s class since I have no voice. His response is what he said he would tell you,

“My wife thinks I’m not miserable enough, so she wants me to talk about PTSD for 90 minutes.” 

He said some other things he might share with you, at which time I decided his services would not be needed!    (I would like to keep my job.)

Of course my students thought this was pretty funny, even if it was true. But the purpose of this blog is to share with you what I learned from my students. It is pretty sobering.

Out of 140 students, only five had ever had a college session where the professor talked about or honored veterans on Veteran’s Day.

Most students were interested in the session’s information and videos. A few, however, during the first short video paid more attention to their text messages than to the video. Then I put on a slide, “How well did you listen and honor our veterans during the show?” The room was incredible still. The other short clips received 100% of their attention.

1. Young people are not insensitive to veterans, I believe their seeming thoughtlessness is not that at all… it is because the adults around them do not take the time to talk WITH them, or to REMIND them of the sacrifices others have made FOR them. Schools, communities, and parents are the ones most at fault. Many have lived the experience and stayed silent. No longer will I remain soundless. I will always give this presentation in the coming years.
2. We did an activity where students moved forward when I asked a question if a relative had served, was injured, or died in a particular war.  Many took a step when I mentioned WWII. More stepped forward again when I mentioned Vietnam. And last, when I asked about the Iraq/Afghanistan conflict, I was surprised at how many were impacted. Last, I asked for those who had or were currently serving in today’s wars, four stepped forward. I had them face the class so all would see. Then I began clapping and the entire class gave these four young men a standing ovation for their service. It was an emotional moment for everyone.

At the end of class two of the young men commented that this was the first time anyone had acknowledged and thanked them for their service.  Today was the first of what I hope will be many. And just as important 140 young people may stop every now and then, think about those who gave and are giving so much, and say a prayer of gratitude.

Perhaps, when they see a vet or know of a family member who has served they will say Thank You.

A few have already called home and done just that.

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE

Tears of a Warrior

            It is hard to believe that another holiday season is upon us, beginning with Thanksgiving and ending with the celebration of a New Year. With this period comes the challenge of facing the days with too much to do or too much idle time, too many people to be around or too much loneliness, and the memories of past holidays spent in combat or loss. For some, these are anniversaries of death and destruction. They may not bring joy and goodwill, but sadness and loss.

            So, I write today’s blog to remind myself and perhaps others confronted by the days ahead to not be afraid of the darkness. It is not about getting rid of the shadows but getting beyond them.  Stepping into sunlight, even a small glint is enough to dispel some of our gloom. As human beings we were not meant to stay in sadness but to shine, in spite of our troubles and hurts.  Hard to believe, but nonetheless true.

            The only way I can ever get beyond the shadows is to look up; to search for the pure, the just, and the beautiful. To focus on what can be if I keep moving forward. I do not have to center my thoughts only on what has been lost, but what is waiting to be gained if only I believe. Believe in the goodness of others; they abundantly surround us waiting to enter our life. Believe in a more loving world even when the media fill the airways with ugliness. Believe that as we search for the decent we find it in the softness of a breeze, the melody of a song, or the laughter of a child.

            A few months ago my sister gave me a CD by the Canadian Tenors.  On the album is a lovely song with a chorus all of us can use at sometime in our lives:

There will always be a shining star;

There will always be the rising of the sea;

There will always be an angel watching over me…

And angels voices say to us, these things will never die.

            Choose to believe the skies are filled with shining stars even if clouds conceal them.  The seas and oceans rise and fall with the changing tides. Most comforting of all is choosing to believe that there will always be angels watching over us… and these things will never die. So if you wander into that dark place, remind yourself of those angels, the thousands of shining stars, and perhaps to be the tender hand reaching out to hold another being in need of your light.

THE EYES OF TRAUMA

Tears of a Warrior

A face conceals many things through silent smiles and quiet words. Yet eyes speak silence louder, clearer than any verbal language. The mouth can easily fake joy, and talk can be nothing more than convincing noise. But the eyes, the eyes can’t fake unfelt laughter or peace. The eyes tell their own story. A story that sometimes screams of sadness; a story that carries the pain of guilt and desperation; a story burdened by trauma inflicted by war, abuse, or neglect.

            Perhaps this is why few people are strong enough to stare into another’s eyes without looking away. When doing so we are really checking for evidence that what is said matches what is unsaid. Only eyes can confirm such a truth. We listen more fully, not just with our ears, but with our eyes. Deep listening is what many psychologists such as Daniel Siegel refer to as “feeling felt”. Feeling Felt tells the story teller that he/she matters. That his/her experiences are valued and honored.

            Why would I write a blog about eyes? Simple, many, many beings are walking through our world with silent screams. No one seems to notice or take time to pay attention. Few things in life are harder for a human being to sustain than being invisible to others. Homeless people understand, abused children understand, and traumatized vets understand.

            Next time you see someone whom you suspect may need to be seen, be brave enough and care enough to listen to what the eyes are saying. It is a humbling tribute that a person has placed his/her trust in your willingness to be with them, even for only a small amount of time.

NOT YET, NOT YET

“Not yet, not yet.” These were the words a mother of a soldier who returned from war with severe, incapacitating PTSD composed to her son’s commanding officer almost forty years later. The mother wrote from a voice in heaven, as if her son had died, because in many ways he had – died emotionally; died cognitively; and died in spirit. Years had passed and she wanted his leader to know how much her son admired the man. How much he believed the officer had done everything possible to prevent the ambush that cost the lives of sixty-four troops. A dispensation of grace, for through her son’s stories, the mother realized how much trauma and burden the officer must be carrying from such a massive loss of life. 

            Even after four decades the pain and memories still persist as if the battle had just occurred. I am left to wonder how long a human being must or can endure such heartache. Being in charge of the lives of others is an incredible responsibility. A responsibility that makes losing those he led more devastating. One death would have been terrible, but sixty-four is beyond measure.

            We heard the story while attending a reunion of the Black Lions who served in Vietnam. The get-together was a relatively small gathering compared to many war reunions. Small because the Black Lions were an elite unit of soldiers who traveled light both in men and equipment. And smaller still because so many had died during the many jungle encounters with the enemy.

            Almost every survivor had a story and every attendee had an inner strength that somehow allowed him to live forward each day until now. I only hope that at this point, the time that remains in these old warrior lives can be lived with great joy, peace and personal forgiveness if needed. Our veterans deserve a bit of these gifts and so do their families. So when the mother wrote, “Not yet, not yet,” meaning… do not leave this earth too soon, the same words persist, “not yet, not yet”, the time for personal healing is now!