Rain was in the forecast all week for Saturday. Nothing would have kept us from our twenty mile day, unless our beloved rule enforcers said, “No, you’re not allowed today.”

The memorials were at the top of the week’s list. Armed with an umbrella, rain coat and waterproof clothing we left the hotel on foot like adventurers. Every measure was taken, so disappointment wouldn’t take lead, in a journey surrounded by opportunities to dread every step. Another day of adding images to everyone else’s travel stories. Damp and cold air caused affirming giggles as the first few blocks were defeated. Wet. Wet. Wet. 

Rain fell upon those who looked for family names. Vietnam heros one by one and rising as we walked along the site. Many familiar names were read, piecing a name with someone from back home. Heroes. At the pinnacle, the water on my face was indistinguishable between rain drops and tears. The gravity of our country’s loss felt upon my chest. Realizing the Larrys, Garys, and Kennys of mine could have easily been on this wall, yet they weren’t, but these men were…

Prepared to stay 

Believing in born ready

Tremendous loss here

The only story I can share of my grandfather, a man my mother never got to know because she was a child when he left for war, was in paperwork from years, an entire life really, of VA hospital stays. “He” continues to escape, traveling hundreds of miles, and writing letters to locate his children. Found again in Kansas searching for his young children. His war afflictions resulted in foster care for children after their mother abandoned them. War wounded, schizophrenic, possibly, yet found daily, while hospitalized, in a small closet writing detailed notes to General MacArthur. A full life given, yet no peace found.

Korean War Vet

Stolen By The Aftermath 

Grandfather Wallace

– Learning –  

a collection of photos and poems.