Ok.
Hello all. I hope today has been pleasant and productive for everyone. This day is one of mixed emotions for me and my family. Does anyone else have a huge issue with the judgmental attitudes and sense of entitlement in this country?
Although I will never call any of you “Bro” and we will likely never have that type of friendship in this venue; some of us will be forever connected in a kinship that transcends all situations. I've been so busy that I didn't even remember that today is Veterans Day until I woke up read some of the stench people posted on FaceTwitGram or whatever other stupid gossip platform my wife signed me up to get notifications for. I'd have been better off to remain oblivious.
I was going to post this on social media; but I'm too insulted at the mealy mouthed, judgmental misrepresentation of military service by the some of the idiotic internet masses that can never know what we know. I try to never respond in type to people while I am angry at them; so I figured there just might be someone reading here who can benefit by knowing he or she isn't alone. Plus, I know somebody has to understand how it feels to have a loved one down on his luck and still getting kicked by people who once called him a friend.
Anyway, if it helps someone today; great. If not, at least I could purge some of my angst.
I want to take this time to say thank you to every brother and sister that stood with me and answered when they were called. Thank you for joining me in laughing, sweating, bleeding, and crying----willingly, in effort to provide our nation with a service that the words “defense” and “protection” cannot properly describe. The idea for someone to serve may begin for many reasons; but that idea is carried to fruition only by pure love and selfless dedication to our way of life. And a special thank you to those of us who made it home, only to go back again when the opportunity presented itself.
To those who did not have or take the opportunity to serve: please realize that many of our Wounded Warriors have disabilities that cannot be seen; and for most civilians, can not be understood.
His injuries are to his mind, his sense of worth, his conscience. His ability to cope is often damaged while his memory is sharper than ever; especially concerning the memories he would pay to be able to forget.
That soldier with invisible injuries doesn't need sympathy.
He doesn't need “fixing”.
He doesn't need more of the already dysfunctional debriefing or re-assimilation tactics.
He doesn't even have to hear a “thank you” because, in his opinion, the day he left home for battle he was just going to work. But feeling appreciated will never harm him.
He needs to be accepted for who he is, what he's seen, and the things he's done that will never leave his conscious thought. Please don't try to lead him your way or push him to where you think he needs to go.
He needs for his former employer to offer him the resources he was promised without having to jump through hoops that would exhaust a pod of trained dolphins.
He needs, simply, for the door of belonging here to remain unlocked so he can truly come home when he is ready.
Some people have shorter names for a disabled defender of freedom, like: that “bum” in the parking lot, the “junkie” that can't catch the dragon, the “loser” that drove after one too many. Don't be quick to judge that guy because chances are high that the door to belonging was locked when he came home; and the window to hell is always open. He will climb through that window and become trapped in an endless replay of the direction he traveled when his destination was not on the map.
Just know that, when you insult that guy with a word that only defines the ignorance of your poorly understood notion of what is experienced in true warfare; you are insulting the man who risked becoming the name you gave him in order to protect the sheltered life from which you comfortably look down on him. Your ability to pass judgment is impressively executed from the scooter chair you fraudulently got insurance buy because you believe being a lazy rotund fatso is a legitimate physical handicap.
He is my brother at arms. He is a child of God. He is where he is because he was unprepared to stop working in a job that he could never be adequately compensated for. His best friend died in front of him during a typical 'day at the office'. He lost his wife to a sissified executive type with manicured hands because she couldn't handle his absence. He lost his direction when home became the place he did not belong. He lost his hope when his own life rejected his return.
He just might be my son----my firstborn----the kid I started raising when I was a kid myself----the man who, as I watched him grow, helped me become the man I am today----the one who inherited everything good in me and everything I hate about myself too. Don't pity him; just stop pissing on him. When you insult him, you insult me; and I will happily visit you to help you understand what kind of man today was created for.
I love you son. And I miss you.
Just in case you ever find your way home; I took the door off the hinges. Come in and rest.
Love Dad.
I was not aware of that! #GameChanger #JanoGotItWrong
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