I know that I promised a new memorial from Pennsylvania for today, but I got to thinking about my brother. He would have been 67 tomorrow. He passed quickly and unexpectedly in 2009. We still don't know exactly why. He had some health problems but they seemed mostly under control. I spoke to him on Thursday, he didn't feel well on Friday and was gone on Saturday.

I have written about him before here, but I hope you will indulge me a few more words.

We were diametrically opposed in almost all things. He was as far to one side of the spectrum as I am to the other. We used to argue all the time at the bar we owned together. The customers loved it and in fact encouraged it. We'd be behind the bar and one of the regulars would make a controversial comment and then sit back to see what would happen, for the fireworks to begin. Usually the battle that would ensue delighted the one who started it and it always ended in a laugh.

Always except once.

I don't remember the details of how this particular episode began, but it was about Vietnam. We went back and forth for a bit and, predictably I guess, it became more and more intense the more we argued our points.

This was in the eighties, if I recall correctly, so I had been back for maybe 15 years. I'd have thought, at the time, that enough distance had been created by that much time so that anything said would have not been a problem. Remember that PTS, or PTSS or PTSD as it was called at various times was not even officially identified yet. That didn't happen until 1989. 

We know better now, of course.

Anyway, something was said, tempers flared, and extremely unkind, mean spirited, hurtful, designed to score points, remarks were made.

Denny, my brother, stormed out from behind the bar.

I was left trying to put a good face on it to the folks sitting is mute shock across the bar from me.

I felt awful. Vietnam had scored another victory. The rage and hurt that I had tried so hard to keep tamped down chalked up another score.

To say that Denny was a taciturn man could only be described as the understatement of the year. So, later, when he came out from the office I wasn't sure what to expect.

I was standing near the bar, but not behind it, as another bartender had come on duty. Denny walked up beside me, gently bumped my shoulder with his, and didn't say a word. He didn't have to, I knew what he was "saying." We were OK.

Many years later, he was the first to respond to my first post on this site. He couldn't have been more enthusiastic. I was stunned at the words he wrote in the longest email he had ever sent me. I have joked that he said more in that email than he'd ever said in person. I still have it. I treasure it.

I've written before about how ten days after that email, he was dead. Unexpected and, mercifully I guess, pretty quick.

He is in many ways responsible for this site being able to continue and grow. He left me a little money and I have, as a result, been able to keep doing this, to avoid unwanted advertising, and make A Means to Heal what it is, what I wanted it to be. I have been able to honor our fallen brothers and sisters without any concerns about to whom I was indebted.

Denny at the bar we owned.

 

 

 

Thank you Denny, I love you and miss you. 

Happy birthday.

Next time, on the 12th, I'll bring you the aforementioned post from Pennsylvania. Meet me here at 9:00am.

To see Vietnam memorials from any state, please click on a state name on the left side of this page.