Yesterday (November 10, Veterans Day), George and I both noted in Facebook that we’d encountered a veteran at the local coffee shop by chance, and were both fairly struck by the encounter. Now, I feel very strongly that politics, religion, and those sorts of things have no place in the public face of a business. Whether the ubiquitous fish symbol, or Star of David; whether red-white-and-blue donkey or elephant; while George and I both have our beliefs and affiliations, you’re not generally likely to see those symbols laid bare in public here at the Spark. So I’ll violate my own feelings here a bit, but I’ll try to be as apolitical about it as I can.
So, as I said, yesterday afternoon, George and I headed to the local Daz Bogfor a cupper and some conversation about some business ideas we’ve had on the table recently. No sooner than we got started, than a man walked over with his coffee, and asked if it was OK to sit next to us. We said sure, but he proceeded to introduce himself and strike-up a conversation.
My initial reaction was one of discomfort. “Oh great, some drunk bum wants to chat, and we have work to do.” I was hoping for a rapid conclusion to this, but John, as he introduced himself, clearly needed to talk. While he had obviously been drinking, he was actually fairly coherent. And I think I speak for George too when I say that my discomfort, while still present, turned more to empathy.
It’s impossible to know how much of what John said was true, but it was hard not to believe that he’s the real deal. He told us he returned from Iraq a month ago. He described how he’d lost most of his right thumb (and indeed, the wounds seemed fairly fresh). And he recounted several battle stories.
When he did, his eyes crossed slightly and glazed over. An angry look came over his face, and he became alarmingly animated. We listened. And just as quickly as the anger would overcome him, it would vanish only to be replaced by watery eyes and statements of sadness that nobody cares. Nobody cares about him, what he’s been through, the sacrifices he made. That even his own family has rejected him.
Despite his self-medication, he was reasonably well spoken. You could see a young man with intelligence and potential, but one that has clearly been damaged, emotionally and physically, by what he’s been through. He recognizes that he needs help sorting through his memories, but claimed that the V.A. requires him to pay for a portion of his own mental health care, and he can’t afford it.
As I said, we have no way of knowing what parts of John’s story are, or indeed if any of it is true. Empirically, however, he was quite believable—slightly self-medicated or not.
But I think what saddened me the most about this encounter wasn’t spending 45 minutes of time talking to John instead of working as we’d planned, but rather, the sad statement that his experience—assuming it’s even partially true—makes about us and our country. Even if John was smart enough to invent every aspect of his story, I’ve heard similar enough stories to know that what he said applies to a number of vets, whether it did to him or not.
In any case, whether the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were right, wrong or otherwise; whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican; whether you like that Obama was elected the 44th president or not; it doesn’t strike me as fair, right or decent that we send our young men and women into harms way, for whatever reason, compel them to do their duty, and allow them to return home and wander the streets, hurting and damaged. We owe them the very best that our physical and mental health care system have to offer, and yet, we clearly don’t provide it. (We don’t seem to provide it to ourselves, let alone our vets, but I digress.)
The whole Walter Reed Hospital fiasco brought these shortcomings to light on a national stage. The media and television cameras were sufficient to get the politicians in Washington nodding like bobble-head dolls, lamenting what a travesty it all is, but it’s funny how this issue evaporated in importance once the lights went out and the TV cameras went-on to the next big thing.
If John is any indication, and whether his story is personally accurate or merely symbolic, then it’s clear we simply have to do a better job. I don’t personally agree with the premise of the Iraq war, but that’s not the point; whether right or wrong, we sent troops there, they are coming back with deep and permanent physical and emotional scars, and we owe it to them—and ourselves—to do right by them.
I hope that we will find a way to start doing so, in addition to the myriad other challenges we face in this country today.
