Vietnam

War is not healthy for children and other living things.

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Today is officially Veteran’s Day. We observed it yesterday so working folk could have their paid day off, but today is actually the day. It was originally Armistice Day – the ceasefire on November 11, 1918 that officially ended World War I or what was then known as the Great War. 

Veteran’s Day was always a happy holiday for me. It was the day after the Marine Corps Ball and my dad had the day off after a night of celebrating his calling in life. He was a Marine through and through until the day he died. 

I was a Daddy’s girl through and through, but four tours of Vietnam took a toll.  For more than four years between my ages of 7 and 14, he was away from home at war. In the in-between years, he was home and I was the apple of his eye. When he was finally done with Vietnam, my dad spent his energy keeping his PTSD from annihilating him.  He had no more energy for me.  When my son came along and put the light back in my dad’s eyes, I was both grateful and jealous.  But he had something to live for once again.  The two of them had an epic love story.   

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Beartown State Park

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Walter didn’t walk.  He ambled.  Today, though, he had a destination.

Walter wasn’t much of a planner, preferring to be spontaneous or, as he put it, just going with the flow.  But the flow today, required some preparation.  He had packed a lunch:  cheese sandwich, apple, Hostess pink Sno Balls and a bottle of Gatorade.  Green. 

He had seen the photo in a magazine.  Beartown.  He was even intrigued by the name.  A Vietnam memorial to a lost son deep in the heart of the West Virginia high mountains.  A series of boardwalks and large rocks, verdant and mysterious.  A sanctuary, sacred and oozing peace.  The perfect place to soothe a soul or lift a spirit.

Somewhere he could amble, but he had to get there first. 

Not yet dawn and the day was drizzly.  He threw a poncho in the backpack with his lunch and DSLR. Yup, he’d pulled out the big guns for Beartown.  It looked like a photographer’s dream location – moody yet tranquil.  He wondered if there were really bear up there on that part of Droop Mountain.  Droop Mountain, for sure, but in this state park?  He didn’t know.

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Come Hear Me Read

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Come hear me read! I’ll be reading from my essays for the Museum of the American Military Museum as well as from my memoir and novel (both in progress) and my blog. If you have a military background of any sort, the readings may provoke nostalgia. If you don’t, you’ll get a glimpse into a world you didn’t know existed.

The bio in the photo reads:

Connie Kinsey is a former military brat who has put down deep roots in a converted barn on a dirt road at the top of a hill in West Virginia. She is pursuing happiness, one cup of coffee at a time. Her award-winning writing has been published online and in print.

She is also a spoken word artist and the Writer-in-Residence for the Museum of the American Military Family. Connie has blogged at https://wvfurandroot.com since 2008 and is wild about comments. You can reach her by email at c_kinsey@frontier.com or on Facebook at http;//www.facebook.com/ConnieKinseyWriter.  Her Twitter handle is TRConnie.