One Song - One Intense Memory

I guess I did something right because "T" isn't angry with me anymore.  But for some reason this last day of February seems very heavy.  Maybe it is because it is cold and gloomy outside. Maybe it is because I'm not accomplishing anything today.  Maybe that's just the way it is supposed to be. 

I've spent the major part of the day listening to music on You Tube.  Bands from my youth, Grass Roots, Yes, The Hollies and even some Beatles.  The sense of hearing is amazing because it can trigger so many emotions and pictures within my head.  One song which floods me with emotion is "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother".  I remember sitting in my room listening to this song and over hearing a conversation my parents were having.  They spoke of a boy no make that a man who had returned from Viet Nam.  Now I didn't really have the much needed intelligence of the time to understand what was  the difference between Nam and the previous wars.  This young man was early twenties and he was coming home not the way he left. He had a lost a leg.  Dad was telling mom that the family were going to the airport in Philly in the morning to pick up their son.  The father  needed the day off and his boss was giving him a hard time.  He promised he
would be back to work the next day.  That was it, sounds like a very unimportant conversation but now I think back it reflected a time when we didn't acknowledge our troops like we do today.  In a silent hush the parents sent their young sons off to war and in a silent hush they prayed they would welcome them home.  No parades, no confetti thrown in the street. The only picture that might appear in the paper might be their obituary.  It is easy now for me to reflect on what was happening but at the time I was naive.  I wore my peace sign necklace at times around my neck, had a peace sign patch on my well worn jeans and thought  by wearing these symbols I'd be part of the glory to end the war. Ok, so I knew I wouldn't end the war but I was a member of the masses.  Maybe a year later at a block party I remember the brother of a child hood friend came up to my group.  Mick had just got home from Viet Nam, was wearing his army jacket, was stoned out of his mind but still aware of  the looks he was getting from the "kids" his age.  One kid actually asked him why the hell he went over there that if it was him he would have gone to Canada.   A very angry "F you" was spat out by the returning vet. My friends all laughed as Mick left our group of friends quickly, his head down wrongly shamed by a boy who had no clue.  I now think of the parents of those men who lived through the horrors of Viet Nam. I think how they would have loved to have their children return to a heroes welcome, to hang the flags in the window with the gold stars telling their neighbors of the sacrifice their child was making for others.   I wish we could abolish war but there will always be some moronic dictator who thinks only his way is right.  The same moronic idiot wouldn't care how many lives he would waste because of his warped way of thinking.  My oldest boy is in the service and as much as I don't want him anywhere near the worlds problems I do know now that  he is looked on with respect for serving his country.  Our generation of  peace niks of the  1960s and 70s need to apologize to our brothers and sisters that lived that nightmare of Viet Nam both there and at home.  We were too pious, too self absorbed.  I won't say too naive because the information was there all over the newspapers and television.  We certainly didn't do a good job of "carrying our brother."