This day began very early. In fact this will be the longest day of my life. The plane took off from Hanoi just after midnight for a five hour flight to Seoul. Now, there’s a nine hour layover here, before beginning the 11 hour flight to Los Angeles. After about an hour and a half, there’s another 2 hour hop to Salt Lake City for another hour wait. Then one more hour into Helena. May 9, 2004 will be a 30 hour day. Boy, will I be glad to see the Rockies.
It was raining as we taxi’d into the Inchon airport. My dad came landed here long ago. I’ve never seen Korea before and I’m not really seeing it now. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for quite a while. I’m travelled out. But I left Vietnam this time with nothing amiss, unsaid or unfelt. There’s been no miracle, but there have been discoveries.
I guess I wanted to remember me. What was I like as a young 21 year old Marine sgt? How did I walk? Talk? What did I want to be? Well, I don’t think I got all of the answers, but I got some and I got to say goodbye. If the answers aren’t altogether clear, the understanding is taking shape. I’ve learned something important. I’m just a man. Less than heroic, more than common. I’ve had somethings pass me by, but I’ve also been given an express ride to witness some big happenings.
I got to learn Agape love with the Franciscans. I got to march all over the world with the finest, even though I had one of the shortest tours in the history of Embassy Duty and I found it too hard to carry the baggage of loss. I got to sit behind a U.S. Senator for two years and watch some of the great ones under the guidance of Mike Mansfield. I got to work in the mines and Teamster a cab in a the city. I got to help brother vets and they helped me. I got to graduate from Carroll College, teach and coach young exciting people. I got to be a city commish and learn from others that saw things differently. I got to be a labor educator and take the story of workers all over the state. I got to fight and stand up for people’s rights. And I got to emotionally collapse five times into rubber rooms and finally got sober. And each time that I fell, there were hands to pick me up.
When I was 21 and landed in Vietnam those many years ago, I didn’t have the slightest idea what I wanted to be beyond getting back home. I thought that some of me never did make it back, but I was wrong. All of me came back. It’s just scrambled up and some new filters made me see things differently. Different, yet the same. I just can’t hack the long haul. And the crash landings of the short trips take me to very frightening places. But I have life and I want what I have. If some one would have given me this rundown as I was on that C-130 flying into Da Nang, so long ago, I think I would have said, “Wow!”
I sure hope that May 10th gets here.
S’lan,
Tom