I was in high school when I first
heard of Vietnam.
It was the mid 60's. The news I heard on the radio didn't
interest me because it didn't affect me!
It was a faraway land
that I had never even heard of. To me it was more like another
world, way off in the galaxy. I was more interested in what I was
going
to do with MY life!
Little did I realize that
OUR boys were
dying over there!!
I'm sorry to say that I didn't come to this realization
until
after I had started business school. There, many a time, one of my
classmates would run out of the room, crying, after they'd been told
that their soldier had
been wounded or killed.
It really hit me hard!!!
I didn't have anyone in Nam but I knew that I had to do
something!!!....but what??
I was young and a female!
One month before I graduated from
business school I was hired by the phone company...my first real
full-time job! There I found a list of soldiers that needed mail
from home.
There were about 50 names.
I had finally found a
way to help!!
I wrote to each and every name on that list.
I
sent them packages filled with goodies, magazines,
newspapers,
and sweets....hoping that it would help them
in
their loneliness. I received numerous answers but only five or six
soldiers corresponded with me throughout their tour. From the
other 40 or so,
sometimes I would get my letters back, stamped
and re-stamped,
as if it had gone from one end of the Nam to the
other,
trying to find my soldier.
I didn't want to think that it was
because
something had happened to them!!
I would
pray and hope that the reason it was not delivered was because
they had come HOME.
Or I would blame myself that they just "didn't want to write to
me", but that was fine with me because I just wanted them to be okay.
It was a hard time for me every time I received a returned letter.
I would wish that somehow I could find out that that particular
soldier was alright. That's all I wanted, for them to be alright!
The "not knowing" would tug at my heart and I would
cry...but
it seemed NO ONE understood! My Mom didn't,
my co-workers didn't either...so I had to hide my tears.
Sometimes I felt so alone, like no one else cared.
So you see, even
though I wasn't there
suffering with you, I was here, HURTING
and praying, crying and fighting for YOU!
The hippies
were all out in force protesting and plastering their vans with
'peace' signs and anti-American slogans. Luckily at that time
I owned a van, to lug around my 6 kid brothers and sisters (my Dad
had passed away and I had to take over that position), so I went and
found some stickers of my own.
My all-time favorite was a big
"peace" sign with the words "Footprint of the American Chicken".
Picture a happy, smiling, 5' tall young girl, driving a huge van,
the back plastered with stickers supporting the troops, not afraid of what
others might say. I'm sure that left a footprint in someone's memory.
:-)
Now these boys are men.
