This One is For Dad

Our coffee maker broke Sunday. Yes, it IS as bad as it seems. The thought of going through a day without a very average brewed cup of coffee is almost unbearable. So, I did what any coffee loving person would do; I trekked along Jalan Kiara and made my way to Harvey Norman tonight to buy a new one. While there, I decided I could not live without a Panini Press/Waffle Maker any longer, and I bought that, too. Silly expendable income. After a quick trip to the Village Grocer for waffle mix, I took off down the concrete jungle path once again with my big ol' bag of kitchen gadgets and soon-to-be fluffy breakfast fun. The total walk time is about 10 minutes. That's 1/6 of an hour for those of you scoring at home.

When I got back, Jill innocently asked, "Oh gosh. Did you walk all the way home with that?" Yeah, the two boxes got a bit heavy along the way, but -- it was just a bag of small appliances (and, not to be forgotten, waffle mix). First world problems abound, right? Whenever in life I'm met with physical challenges (this does not count as one, but it got me thinking about this blog), I basically think about two people who have had a positive influence on my life. The first is Michelle Whitfield, a courageous young woman we lost to a brain tumor in her 10th grade year at Cedar Ridge. I was blessed to have Michelle in my life through her final days, always fighting and keeping a smile on her face even after that horrible disease took her ability to speak. When I think about all she experienced physically through chemo treatments, radiation and the effects of the disease on her body in her last days, I find it really hard to complain about things like: walking, riding a bike up a hill, sweating at a baseball game. Michelle, still today, is one of the absolute strongest influences in my life. There is rarely a day that goes by that I don't think of her in some aspect.

The other person I think of when times get tough is Talmadge Gray Lowe, or as many of you may know him -- Dusty Lowe. I tend to call him "Pa" these days. I'm not quite sure when that started, but we both seem to like it. It's not a coincidence that this blog lines up with Veteran's Day, which will begin for me about 13 hours before most of you. Being the child of a Vietnam Veteran kind of makes you a bit different than your other friends, or other generations of veterans' kids. They were the guys who left at 19 thinking they were heroes and then came back to be called baby killers, or in some cases, worse. My Lai and television coverage sort of messed that whole thing up. That didn't happen to a lot of returning vets prior, and I don't think it has happened since. A lot of folks have spent a lot of money trying to make up for this heinous behavior 40 years ago. Probably too little, too late, but there is a nice granite wall to remind us that 58,000 people tried their best to do what they thought was right when no one in Washington had any idea what to do. I spent some time at that wall with Pa, and I think it helped him deal with many of his own demons. That Wall money was money well spent.

To be completely honest, I've really come to detest the Vietnam War in my adult life as I have learned more and more about it. All wars, at some level, have a political influence. The spread of Communism, in retrospect, was not a justification for 58,000 lives to be lost. Seeing that I live about 540 miles south of Communist Ho Chi Minh City, I can report to you that the Domino Effect was about as viable an excuse for war as Domino's Pizza is a gourmet food. Kuala Lumpur is a thriving blend of Southeast Asian tradition wrapped up nicely in a big red Capitalistic bow. Heck, we've already got Christmas decorations for sale in every store here. People really like the sound of a ringing cash register here in Asia. Communism stopped a few miles south of the 17th parallel even though we filed out in 1975 and Nixon's "Vietnamization" plan was about as effective as saran wrap preventing dirty bomb nuclear fallout.

I was lucky -- my dad-to-be came back. My domino never fell. His name is not etched in stone. He boarded the plane and headed back. Later, I got to learn how to throw a curveball and how to check the oil in my car. I watched in marvel as my dad did everything he set out to do. The cool thing that I got to experience was seeing a dad that was the equivalency to Superman in my eyes. I never saw him fail at anything as I was growing up. There were 58,000 other soldiers who should have gotten that chance, but they didn't. Some already had kids who never knew their dad. My dad survived, but he was affected in a myriad of ways along with so many who were just doing what they thought was right.

Now, a whole new generation of men and women spread throughout this world fighting under the US Flag. Do I support all the efforts our country has put forth since we missed the lessons of secret Cambodia bombings and poisoning our own soldiers to clear out the jungles? Nope. But I will NEVER once say a single bad thing about any man or woman who signs those papers and puts his/her life on the line to serve valiantly in our military. Many of them sat in my classroom, played on the fields I coached -- this new generation of soldiers has the option to opt out as I did when I turned 18. But, they volunteered -- so many of them looking for a direction and a purpose, a chance to prove themselves in the line of duty. To stand for something that is bigger than them. To protect and to serve, to provide hope in the face of despair. To not worry about the politics but instead to protect a small child who has been orphaned on the battlefields of Baghdad or Kabul. The chance to develop character, show commitment, to truly know the consequences of not acting as a team. They are my friends, my family members and I say, "Thank you" to each of them for their service. I pray they can all make it home and become the dad (or mom) that I had growing up.

Anyone who knows Pa knows that the Vietnam War is a big part of who he is now in his mid-60s. Don't believe it? Go to his Facebook page and look through his photos. Look at his friends -- his first contact on Facebook was with other Vietnam Vets across the country. They have created quite an impressive network of support that is desperately needed. Our new soldiers returning home need this support, too. Our suicide rates amongst returning soldiers is at an all-time high. That is so discouraging to me. The NBC show, "Parenthood" did an arc where they had the patriarch Zeke, a Vietnam Vet, work with a young man just getting back from Afghanistan. It was powerful TV because it was so true-to-life. It's a hard transition, and we should all take on the task of helping them readjust.

Tell a soldier, active or no longer enlisted, that you appreciate them. Tell them you appreciate their sacrifices. Pray for the families who had loved ones pay the ultimate sacrifice. Go find a World War II veteran -- we don't have many left. Those guys were the original rock stars -- they saved the world! Seriously! Find someone wearing an aircraft carrier hat, or a Korean War, Gulf War or Vietnam Veterans hat -- shake their hand and tell them you appreciate their service. Buy their breakfast. I do it all the time (well, not as much here, I guess). It feels good. Buy a man or woman in uniform a croissant and coffee when you see them in the airport being deployed or waiting patiently to hold their babies (who aren't babies anymore) for the first time in 6 months or a year. You don't have to agree with the politics, but you can't diminish the sacrifice.

There is so much more I could type, but I think instead I would like to share some things about Pa here. He actually received two Bronze Stars while serving in Vietnam. In the face of unimaginable danger, Pa showed valor and courage and took the necessary steps as a sergeant to save lives of those in his command. He still has the piece of shrapnel that lodged in the wall just millimeters above his head. That's why building a back yard pig smoker isn't that big of a deal, even if it didn't come from blueprints. He survived a gas attack despite having to give his mask to a commanding officer by thinking fast and making a makeshift apparatus out of a hankie and urine. (You'd do it, too, if it meant living). So, figuring out how to lift the fourth floor of an RJR building about 3 feet without compromising the floors above was a breeze. He held the burden of finding his fallen friend's family for decades -- to let them know that their son fought valiantly before becoming a name carved into that cold granite wall in D.C. He never relented, he never gave up. And, just a few years ago, he hugged the neck of Thomas Corbin's mother in his driveway. So, yeah, surviving the high interest rates of the 1980s may have nearly toppled his construction company, but he had practice overcoming hardship. And, he refused to give in. Would it have been easy? Yes. But, if he had given up 40+ years ago, his grandkids wouldn't be in Southeast Asia right now experiencing a lifetime of amazing adventures. You wouldn't be reading this. And, countless people who have been touched by his selfless acts of kindness over the years would have had to turn to someone else.

There is a lasting memory of Pa's service that fills up one wall of his office in our house back in Bottom. Mom had it made for him so many Christmases ago, I can't even remember a time when it wasn't in our house (shoutout to Blaine Johnson -- it's stood the test of time). It's a large framed collection of his medals, his awards, his commendations and square in the middle is a picture of a 19 year old kid who was doing what he thought was right during that time. He was serving because his country asked him to. He never considered (to my knowledge) heading to Canada or burning his Selective Service Card. He served. Today, there are levels where he suffers because of that service. He can't hear very well in one ear (unless you are eating Doritos or chomping ice across from him at our kitchen bar) and he does have several other physical ailments that can likely be traced back to his time in Vietnam. But, if he had it to do over again, my guess is he'd get back on that plane and fly west to get to the East.

So the question that has always been in the forefront of my mind is this -- is Pa the man he is today because of the time served in Vietnam? Or, was he destined to be the awesome guy he is, and Vietnam simply served as a platform for him to unlock what I perceive as greatness? My dad has unconditional love for his family. He's never once told me I shouldn't pursue an avenue in life including this one. He is so selfless and giving of himself -- to a fault at times if truth be told. Has he made his share of mistakes? Yeah, but put those stones down, glass homeowners. We all have. It lends to this question -- am I who I am because my dad is a Vietnam Veteran? It's hard to say, I think. It is something that has definitely affected me in some ways. It's a big part of why I am in Southeast Asia now. Dad and I shared a pretty emotional moment when I told him this was our destination. In some way, maybe it's some weird destiny that we are here.

My goal is to go to Vietnam sometime in the next six months. It's going to be difficult to handle emotionally, but in the same instance, it's so different today. Ho Chi Mihn City (or, Saigon as we still call it in Bottom) was ranked the No. 1 destination for start up businesses in the world last month because it has the largest 26-to-35 year old demographic globally. It's the new "mover and shaker" city in Asia. Countless numbers of my colleagues here in Kuala Lumpur talk about the pristine beaches and spectacular resort hotels in Vietnam. That's cool, but I want to see Cu Chi. What's it like now? American tourists take tours of the tunnel systems the Viet Kong built throughout South Vietnam for their guerrilla attacks. These are historical heritage sites in Vietnam. My friends have been to the Vietnam version of the Vietnam War Memorial. It lists the names of their soldiers killed in battle. How will I deal with that? Can I deal with that?

I think the answer is this -- I have to deal with that. As I told Pa, his experiences are part of me, but they don't have to define me. I hope he finds peace in that same resolve someday, too. My dad is a Vietnam Veteran, but he is so much more. I thank him for his service as a soldier, but most importantly, I love him for his commitment to being a great dad.

Well, that's about the most personal thing I've ever shared ever in my life. I'm sure no one will read this, so it's fine. I think this Internet thing is just a passing phase anyway. Hey, I redesigned my blog logo! Anyone notice? You can now translate the blog to any language in the world! How cool is that? (Okay, I'm just trying to deflect at this point ...)

I hope no one is offended by any of the things I said in this edition. This blog came from the heart, and it is just my words. Words mean nothing. It's how you follow them up that matters. As Pa would say, and yes, it comes straight from his days in this time zone -- "Deeds, not words". You don't just say it, you live by it. Happy Veteran's Day, former and current soldiers. And to those who have lost loved ones in service, my prayers of comfort and condolence on this emotional day. May God bless all of you in safety now and throughout your lives.