My Dad's Secrets, Part 4...
A couple of years ago I saw "Saving Private Ryan".
I couldn't even tell you a lot of the details of the movie,
because when the one young soldier began to read Emerson,
I lost it.
I burst into tears, because I was listening to him read about
war, and I was seeing the end table and the well-worn copy of
Emerson's Essays that my Dad carried with him. Sitting next
to his keys and comb and money.
I finally understood why my Daddy carried that book with him,
or at least, I understood a whole lot more then I ever had before.
Remember, we were suppsoed to believe at that time that he was never
in Vietnam. I just thought that he liked poetry. ..
Veteran's Day, 198?
I'm 18, my brother is 19.
We are sitting in the living room, my Dad is out somewhere at a bar.
This is what he does. My Dad is an alcoholic, but he's also a popular
alcoholic. Read my blog post about a large chair, you'll get the idea.
He's apparently a fun and funny guy, but usually only when he's drinking.
The rest of the time he's mostly quiet and intense. Brooding.
I'm 18...
I'd been gone for about 2 years. When I came back, I saw that my Dad's
drinking had accelerated. I saw him pouring booze into a coffee cup with
his coffee, when we were both getting ready for work one morning. " Hair of
the dog that bit ya?"
I asked, but he knew that I understood and wasn't being mean. I was joking
around, it was what we did. He smiled,
and kind of made a face.
I can't remember if that was after V-Day or not. But that really happened.
It was around the exact same time.
And I really DID say that to him. " Hair of the dog that bit ya?" My family is honest.
My Dad wasn't hiding it because we were honest. But that's what made it so
weird to have secrets like this.
Secrets weren't lies, they were just things not talked about. Ever.
Until V-Day, 198? Around this time. So I'm aware that my Dad is drinking more.
My brother and I are watching something on TV. It's late.
My Dad is home. He comes in, he's shitfaced, he has this funny little smile that
he always gets when he's drunk and happy. Kind of like a crooked little v.
I used to hate that smile at times when I was younger.
But at this point I understand things a lot more in life, I am 18. I'm getting along with
my parents a lot better, we are all getting along a lot better, my brother and I
are older.
So my Dad stumbles in, he's smiling, he's diminished. The drinking always made him seem
lesser somehow. Smaller.
Truth be known, when my brother and I were younger, we'd had a lot of that shame that
children of alcoholics go through.
But it was that elementary school aged shame. After my brother and I got a little older
and began experimenting with substances ourselves, we understood a whole lot more about numbing pain.
So when my Dad stumbled in that night, we were all getting along pretty well, and my Dad
was smiling.
He was wearing a " Kiss me I'm a Veteran" pin, a big white button.
I say " But you're not a Veteran, Daddy!" And he says " Oh yes, yes I am." In his gentle
but matter- of- fact voice.
" You were!?!" I'm genuinely shocked.
Now, I realize that I should have known, but this is me seeing the clues NOW, with what
I know NOW. And trying to ask anything before was met with firm resistance from
my Mother, who was the person that we usually asked when it came to questions about our Dad, anyway..
" Yeah, I was there."
You'd think we flooded him with questions, but we didn't. I know that we were stunned,
but we also knew when to push something and when not to. So we left it at that.
At least that's the way I remember it.
I also remember that my Dad had a lot of medals and ribbons and such, on his dresser.
But, and I know this sounds bad, we just figured that everyone's Dad had them. We thought
that you just get a ribbon for joining up, or wiping your ass, at least that was another thing our
Dad told us, when we'd asked about them as kids. Master of the Downplay.
So you can see that we had a lot of news to digest. We didn't really know a whole lot, but this was HUGE.
Our Dad was always honest, honest to a fault, maybe. Why did he keep this from us?
Many more years went by without knowing anything more.
Coincidentally, my Dad quit drinking right after that. I was 18. At the time I didn't really
see the connection, but now it sure seems like an interesting coincidence.
My Dad finally tells his children that he's a Vietnam vet, and a few months later quits
drinking FOR GOOD.
Never drank again. Seriously, he never drank again! And he became this beautiful person,
to me, anyway.
My Mother and Father became like newlyweds, and it lasted. They had the kind of love
that we should all have with our long term partners. They rode out the hardest times and
it was all gravy for them after that. They laughed and loved a lot. Like I said, it was a little embarrassing to see, being their daughter. But at the same time I was happy for them, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
This was the last time I saw them. I visited them in Florida, where they'd retired.
My Dad and I stayed up one night, all night, and just talked. He showed me his military folder where it listed his achievements. But only because I asked. I'd found out from
my Mom that my Dad did 3 tours of duty in Vietnam.
3 !!!
And that one of the things that happened was a rescue mission, they were down river a little
from the Pueblo, another ship, when it got captured.
My Dad and his posse went after them, Cong shooting on both sides as they go up the river
on one of those little PT boats, his buddy got killed next to him.
My Mom filled in those details, my Dad didn't talk about his friend or anything about that.
He didn't even mention details at all. But it was enough that he was trying.
Part of the problemwith researching this is that this is extremely painful to write about. I've looked a little online
but it's too much. I can't handle it. I think my Dad mentioned that he was stationed on a ship called the Moore?
That last visit in Florida that I saw my Daddy, we went out to aWalgreens, or some store to do an errand,
and outside was this bum, this man with a black eye and grizzled unwashed appearance. Filthy
clothes.
He said " Hey! Cat!"
To my surprise, he knew my Dad's nickname.
CAT was my Dad's name, he wore a ring made out of a nut off one of his ships. Engraved on
it was the word "cat". My Dad's initals.
Even THAT makes more sense now. My Dad was called Cat in Vietnam, and the name stuck.
It was his initials, and it was because they didn't want to be yelling ' Charlie's taken a piss!"
out in the jungle and accidentally shoot my Dad. Charlie, my Dad's name.
So we are coming out of a store, and there's the "bum" with the black eye and filthy clothes,
leathery scabby skin, the works.
" Hey Cat! Got a coupla bucks?"
My mouth drops open, I see my Dad walk over and talk and laugh with him for a minute,
point at me, (I say " Hi") and reach into his wallet and give the "bum" a couple of bucks.
We continue on, towards the car, and I ask my Dad, " who was that?"
And he says " Aw, just some guy."
" How do you know him?"
" From over at the VA, alright?"
And from his exasperated tone, I know he wants to drop it.
So we do, and we get in the car and go home, and now I know that my Dad has made peace with
his past, his "secret."
And it's no longer a secret.
I couldn't even tell you a lot of the details of the movie,
because when the one young soldier began to read Emerson,
I lost it.
I burst into tears, because I was listening to him read about
war, and I was seeing the end table and the well-worn copy of
Emerson's Essays that my Dad carried with him. Sitting next
to his keys and comb and money.
I finally understood why my Daddy carried that book with him,
or at least, I understood a whole lot more then I ever had before.
Remember, we were suppsoed to believe at that time that he was never
in Vietnam. I just thought that he liked poetry. ..
Veteran's Day, 198?
I'm 18, my brother is 19.
We are sitting in the living room, my Dad is out somewhere at a bar.
This is what he does. My Dad is an alcoholic, but he's also a popular
alcoholic. Read my blog post about a large chair, you'll get the idea.
He's apparently a fun and funny guy, but usually only when he's drinking.
The rest of the time he's mostly quiet and intense. Brooding.
I'm 18...
I'd been gone for about 2 years. When I came back, I saw that my Dad's
drinking had accelerated. I saw him pouring booze into a coffee cup with
his coffee, when we were both getting ready for work one morning. " Hair of
the dog that bit ya?"
I asked, but he knew that I understood and wasn't being mean. I was joking
around, it was what we did. He smiled,
and kind of made a face.
I can't remember if that was after V-Day or not. But that really happened.
It was around the exact same time.
And I really DID say that to him. " Hair of the dog that bit ya?" My family is honest.
My Dad wasn't hiding it because we were honest. But that's what made it so
weird to have secrets like this.
Secrets weren't lies, they were just things not talked about. Ever.
Until V-Day, 198? Around this time. So I'm aware that my Dad is drinking more.
My brother and I are watching something on TV. It's late.
My Dad is home. He comes in, he's shitfaced, he has this funny little smile that
he always gets when he's drunk and happy. Kind of like a crooked little v.
I used to hate that smile at times when I was younger.
But at this point I understand things a lot more in life, I am 18. I'm getting along with
my parents a lot better, we are all getting along a lot better, my brother and I
are older.
So my Dad stumbles in, he's smiling, he's diminished. The drinking always made him seem
lesser somehow. Smaller.
Truth be known, when my brother and I were younger, we'd had a lot of that shame that
children of alcoholics go through.
But it was that elementary school aged shame. After my brother and I got a little older
and began experimenting with substances ourselves, we understood a whole lot more about numbing pain.
So when my Dad stumbled in that night, we were all getting along pretty well, and my Dad
was smiling.
He was wearing a " Kiss me I'm a Veteran" pin, a big white button.
I say " But you're not a Veteran, Daddy!" And he says " Oh yes, yes I am." In his gentle
but matter- of- fact voice.
" You were!?!" I'm genuinely shocked.
Now, I realize that I should have known, but this is me seeing the clues NOW, with what
I know NOW. And trying to ask anything before was met with firm resistance from
my Mother, who was the person that we usually asked when it came to questions about our Dad, anyway..
" Yeah, I was there."
You'd think we flooded him with questions, but we didn't. I know that we were stunned,
but we also knew when to push something and when not to. So we left it at that.
At least that's the way I remember it.
I also remember that my Dad had a lot of medals and ribbons and such, on his dresser.
But, and I know this sounds bad, we just figured that everyone's Dad had them. We thought
that you just get a ribbon for joining up, or wiping your ass, at least that was another thing our
Dad told us, when we'd asked about them as kids. Master of the Downplay.
So you can see that we had a lot of news to digest. We didn't really know a whole lot, but this was HUGE.
Our Dad was always honest, honest to a fault, maybe. Why did he keep this from us?
Many more years went by without knowing anything more.
Coincidentally, my Dad quit drinking right after that. I was 18. At the time I didn't really
see the connection, but now it sure seems like an interesting coincidence.
My Dad finally tells his children that he's a Vietnam vet, and a few months later quits
drinking FOR GOOD.
Never drank again. Seriously, he never drank again! And he became this beautiful person,
to me, anyway.
My Mother and Father became like newlyweds, and it lasted. They had the kind of love
that we should all have with our long term partners. They rode out the hardest times and
it was all gravy for them after that. They laughed and loved a lot. Like I said, it was a little embarrassing to see, being their daughter. But at the same time I was happy for them, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
This was the last time I saw them. I visited them in Florida, where they'd retired.
My Dad and I stayed up one night, all night, and just talked. He showed me his military folder where it listed his achievements. But only because I asked. I'd found out from
my Mom that my Dad did 3 tours of duty in Vietnam.
3 !!!
And that one of the things that happened was a rescue mission, they were down river a little
from the Pueblo, another ship, when it got captured.
My Dad and his posse went after them, Cong shooting on both sides as they go up the river
on one of those little PT boats, his buddy got killed next to him.
My Mom filled in those details, my Dad didn't talk about his friend or anything about that.
He didn't even mention details at all. But it was enough that he was trying.
Part of the problemwith researching this is that this is extremely painful to write about. I've looked a little online
but it's too much. I can't handle it. I think my Dad mentioned that he was stationed on a ship called the Moore?
That last visit in Florida that I saw my Daddy, we went out to aWalgreens, or some store to do an errand,
and outside was this bum, this man with a black eye and grizzled unwashed appearance. Filthy
clothes.
He said " Hey! Cat!"
To my surprise, he knew my Dad's nickname.
CAT was my Dad's name, he wore a ring made out of a nut off one of his ships. Engraved on
it was the word "cat". My Dad's initals.
Even THAT makes more sense now. My Dad was called Cat in Vietnam, and the name stuck.
It was his initials, and it was because they didn't want to be yelling ' Charlie's taken a piss!"
out in the jungle and accidentally shoot my Dad. Charlie, my Dad's name.
So we are coming out of a store, and there's the "bum" with the black eye and filthy clothes,
leathery scabby skin, the works.
" Hey Cat! Got a coupla bucks?"
My mouth drops open, I see my Dad walk over and talk and laugh with him for a minute,
point at me, (I say " Hi") and reach into his wallet and give the "bum" a couple of bucks.
We continue on, towards the car, and I ask my Dad, " who was that?"
And he says " Aw, just some guy."
" How do you know him?"
" From over at the VA, alright?"
And from his exasperated tone, I know he wants to drop it.
So we do, and we get in the car and go home, and now I know that my Dad has made peace with
his past, his "secret."
And it's no longer a secret.
posted by Nabonidus at 9:43 AM
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