Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Love, grief, war, love

Barbara sent me a letter that began, "You will make it." I printed a copy to carry in my billfold.
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David Kemp and Charles Binkley, married, September 2015

I see couples together, a man and woman, a man and a man, a woman and a woman, sometimes with a child, sometimes just a parent and child, and like a prayer, I think something like, “Cherish what you have, love her (or him) with all your heart, give it all you have.” This happens almost every day.
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I went today to the first meeting of a grief recovery group. The walking wounded. One man will mark one year tomorrow. “Clara,” he spoke her name softly. Another man just passed two months and I thought, “How can he do it?” Everyone else in the group has been in it longer, so I guess that’s how he’ll do it. It’s so hard. Until this, Vietnam was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. This is much harder.
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These things are written over time, so when I say something about “the past few days” I may be writing about days a week or two ago.
Hard times much of the past few days. The thing of writing down three good things each day fell by the wayside as I’ve cycled downward.
Phorn, David, CK. At Grace Cathedral,
David and Charles' wedding
Sometimes patients would tell me their chief complaint was “desperation.” I didn’t really understand that, except that it seemed to occur in the context of depression and I always took it as a serious CC. Now I get it. Desperation. What to do? Where to turn?
Monday I went to the grief center at Wilshire Baptist Church. Had a draining 1.5 hour conversation with Laurie, the director. The next day I talked with Lillie, the woman who facilitates the group I will start in next Tuesday.
(Encourage, it’s a word I want to keep in mind.)
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While we were in San Francisco the last time, Jeff talked some about Vietnam. I started thinking about how much combat I was in. Really a lot. Definitions:
Battle = a sustained fight with a lot of people involved, lasting anywhere from hours to days.
Firefight or gunfight = a brief fight involving a few people, that may last a few minutes up to an hour.
1/26 = 1st Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment; likewise 1/9 is 1st Bn, 9th Marine Reg. and so on. A letter in front of these, e.g., C/1/26, designates C Company, 1st Bn...
With Elisabeth and Jim, on the trail, NM
Except for Marine nomenclature, these are my definitions (battle vs. firefight). In each of the following battles and gunfights I was actively shooting and being shot at.
Battles
Deckhouse/Prairie, a big one near the DMZ – battalions of NVA regulars, trenches, mortars, rockets, many firefights. On the last day I saw a tanker get his head blown off. He was wearing a commo helmet, and it was like seeing a radio explode. When the fighting was over, I got his .45. I remember when we got back to a firebase the tanks laagered up and we (the infantry) all just kind of fell down asleep in the center of the circle. In the morning I saw the entire 1st weapons squad asleep together – three men, spooned together under a poncho – a week before there had been 12-14 men in 1st squad. For the operation, 36 Marines were killed and 167 wounded (from several units). Deckhouse/Prairie lasted a week or two for my unit, C/1/26.
Sea and sky and land
Dodge City near Hill 55 when that corporal had his ass blown off – he sat up and looked down at what was left of his legs, groaned and died. Battle lasted about an hour.
Dodge City a few months later – 16 KIA, several helicopters shot down, bad action, Zamora killed. His friend went crazy, started screaming, and charged the enemy trench line, so everybody else did too. Lasted about a day.
The Hill Fights/the “First Battle of Khe Sanh” – this was the worst. At the DMZ. I was mostly with 1/9, “The Walking Dead” and also some with 3/3 or 2/3. 168 men killed over about a month. I was in this one at several different points, with some rest time back at the rear near Dong Ha, where the only problem was rockets. I think I can rightfully say this was at least two battles for me. Intense. Lasted weeks.
Firefights/gunfights
John and CK, in the Castro
My best guess is at least one every 4-5 days for about seven months and then in the last six months, maybe one or even less/week. But the Hill Fights were in the last months, so I don’t know how to count in those times. All told, I was in at least 50 firefights.
Sniper fire/mines
When we were near Dodge City (Thuy Bo) every bleeding day at least one person was hit by sniper fire or blown away by a bouncing betty or other mine. Every fucking day.

I've been shot at with hand-held automatic weapons, crew-served automatic weapons, mortars, RPGs, big rockets, artillery, and I don't know what else. I've even been strafed by a gunship.
THAT’S A LOT OF ACTION! I don’t seem to be haunted by it, though. It comes up now and then, but not so bad. I don’t remember my dreams. Things might be different if I did. Haha, Jeff’s dreams are enough for me.
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Phana and Jeff - we all love a pretty girl, don't we.
Look at how he's looking at her - just as if he was
looking at David.
I’ve been somewhat slouchish for a long time. Toward the last of the time when Leslie was sick, I realized I was becoming actually bent over. I worked to stand up straighter. At some point a few weeks ago I thought to myself, fuck it, bent over is what I am and I quit trying to stand straight. Now I’m working on straighter again.
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David and Charles got married a few weeks ago. It was a huge celebration. I realized a few days before the ceremony that it was a transition for me, too – and not the easiest one of my life. Of course, these are days upon days of transitions for me… More on this later. Will post video when it comes out.
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A woman was telling me how Leslie helped her years ago and how thankful she was for it. Somewhere in the conversation, I said, “Yes, she helped hundreds of people. The woman said, “No. Thousands.”

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

I was talking with a friend...

I was talking last night with a friend who had a “health event” 3-4 weeks ago that stood him right at the edge of eternity. He told me shortly after the event that he felt very fragile and uncertain. Last night he blew my mind in a very good way when he went on at length about the beautiful support he received from his partner. There was such joy in his voice. To me it was like he had fallen in love all over again and stronger than before – he seemed scarcely able to believe how she had loved him through his uncertainty and fear. I was responding along several tracks: one was that Leslie is gone and from her, I no longer have that beautiful support, at least in a physical, earthly sense - so that was sad. The other track was happiness that my friend knows such deep and affirming love. And it made me happy that he knows me well enough to share these joyful things with me in this time of grief. 

Here is to Love, to Beauty, to Hope, to our Beautiful Fragility. 
On a train in Burma. The man in the blue shirt had malaria;
the woman is taking care of him, her arm around him. 2007


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I was reading back through some older journal entries. I took these words from something I wrote on our last trip through Bangkok and Chiang Mai a year and a half ago:  

You call it liver-but I call it karma (link) 
As I said in an earlier post, we seem to be mostly repeating ourselves on this trip, going where we’ve been before, eating tried and true things… Oceans of memories memories memories memories….oceans… of memories… together.
These are the days.
Bangkok: at this point in the trip everything is a big effort. Basically we’re just being in BK, eating fabulous food, having “happy hour” every evening on the porch of the hotel… 50 years on…

Here is a really pretty song - You... wait here in my arms as I shake. Yeah, I know about waiting as I shake, as I tremble. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPJLu_wcTKc

If you must wait,
Wait for them here in my arms as I shake
If you must weep,
Do it right here in my bed as I sleep
If you must mourn, my love
Mourn with the moon and the stars up above
If you must mourn,
Don't do it alone

If you must leave,
Leave as though fire burns under your feet
If you must speak,
Speak every word as though it were unique
If you must die, sweetheart
Die knowing your life was my life's best part
And if you must die,
Remember your life

You are
You are
Oh, you are
You are
Oh

If you must fight,
Fight with yourself and your thoughts in the night
If you must work,
Work to leave some part of you on this earth
If you must live, darling one,

Just live
Just live
Just live


Monday, June 24, 2013

Love, Mountains, Psytrance, War...


She said, “It’s deep and intimate.” And I said, “What more could anyone want?” 
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Chops WanderWeird, an artist and Jeff - generations, at NET

I’ve been planning on hiking the Elk Park/Chicago Basin loop in the Weminuche Wilderness this summer. It’s a little over 40 miles and close to the end the trail passes the Chicago Basin, a beautiful alpine area surrounded by some of the biggest mountains in Colorado. I’ve been wanting to do it, but not inspired. This morning I thought, why not just hike the other way and get to the basin in about 9 miles? Hang out in the rock and tundra and snow and wind for a few days and suddenly I’m inspired. I realize I don’t have to do epic hikes. Whew, what a lightening. Why would I want to do an epic hike? Because I can, or maybe because I could, and because the rewards are so great, e.g., Northern Wind Rivers. But I don’t seem to have the push now.
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The stage Friday night. Saturday night the lights really came on.

Last weekend we had the annual Atrium Obscurum psytrance gathering (New Era Transmissions) in the deep woods of East Texas. It was a deep experience for many of us – a transformational gathering. There were just over 200 people camping, talking, dancing, in an amazing sparkling now – together. The music started about 9pm Friday and continued without cease until 1 pm Sunday.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFPPAArPHeE

We worked hard setting up, keeping it going, and taking it down. Happy to say that cleanup was close to zero – a few cigarette butts was about it.

From my Facebook post: I want to say that I am proud to have worked with AO on NET – not in a prideful sense, but in a humbled sense of having helped create something beautiful. I’m grateful to be part of this good work. And I had a really good time. Big respect and appreciation for all the AO crew.
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Sometime Saturday. Rope, one of the people I camped with in green shirt

Leslie, Sometimes we meet in the hall or somewhere and it’s almost unreal. Like in a dream.
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From the book The Hill Fights: The First Battle of Khe Sanh, p. 94-95 (This section is about a Marine named Montgomery): “When he came to… blood flowing from shrapnel wounds. ‘I looked around. No one else was there. Mortar shells still exploding… I crawled on all fours to a bomb crater. I hurt too bad to go any farther so I started calling for help. Two Marines hiding in another crater answered. As soon as I told them I was wounded, they crawled over and patched me up.’ (Montgomery asked them to take his photo.) With mortar shells crashing behind them, the man took Montgomery’s picture.”
Part of Atrium Obscurum crew at Friday morning meeting
Willa, person I don't know, Nick, Kitty, Laura, Luis, Jessica reading,
and Dawn standing

I was the one who took his photo. What he didn’t mention was that he was covered in blood, smiling (going home – if the medevac isn’t shot down), and shooting me the finger – so long, sucker. I’ll think about your dumb ass out here in the boondocks while I’m laying up in a hospital eating ice cream and checking out the nurses
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This was written in 2005, on what I thought was my last trip to Hong Kong: On what I thought was probably the last Star Ferry ride of my life I'm staring across the harbor, feeling the engines throbbing under the deck, feeling nostalgic ... a little girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old, sitting right behind me in her Dad's lap - starts singing over and over again, first in English and then in Chinese ...
"Row row row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily merrily merrily,
Life is but a dream.
"
Another grace note for the trip.

The AO DJ set-up. Sunday about noon
On the last day David and I went to Big John's cafe on either Lock or Hankow Road, parallel to Nathan Road. Big John's is a small place serving Chinese and western foods - including salads that seem safe. Always good vibes in Big John's. This last time the music included the song from long ago...
"Those were the days my friend,
We thought they'd never end,
We'd sing and dance forever and a day.
We'd live the life we'd choose,
We'd fight and never lose,
Those were the days,
Oh yes, those were the days.
"

Of course I'm thinking of Leslie - talk about nostalgic - yet thinking, yeah, that's pretty much how it's turning out. These are the days.

Rode that big 747 to Taipei, on to LA, and then Dallas. Home. 
Charles Kemp, working on decos
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The other day someone said (rationalizing giving up his dreams), “You can’t change the world.”
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Reality, when I experience Leslie…
© What I see now
© What I remember
© What is real/50+ years of loving

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