PERSPECTIVE - we could both be wrong...AWS

In the endless expanse before time had meaning, the truth of ‘the greatest father’ remained hidden from mortal eyes. I break my silence now to share this tale of divine instruction gone astray, of how three brothers came to divide the world. As the final witness to untainted truth, I violate ancient decrees to reveal how it had to be, and how it shall be endlessly. - MJM B efore mortality embraced the relevance of time dwelled ‘the greatest father,’ whose presence carried the scent of ancient forests and morning stars. So magnificent were his powers that he forged three sons in his likeness, each birthed from divine thought into radiant beings. His love for them knew no bounds, manifesting in a realm of crystal spires and gardens that bloomed with flowers of light. He created for them a world of such opulence that misfortune, agony, and uncertainty remained foreign concepts, mere shadows beyond their understanding. From the moment of their creation, each son absorbed their father’s te...

Not Alone [VA Group Therapy - a single step ] —AW Schade  USMC 1965/69 Before my fourth group session, my psychiatrist motioned me to his office. He said, “It’s time you reach another stage of healing.” I realized what he meant. In previous sessions I joined discussions but shied away from revealing my history. I sat in silence to absorb what he suggested. Fully aware counseling with him differed from engaging peers and exposing my conflicts with war, manhood, and God. I told him I would try. I rarely discussed Vietnam, lost buddies, or the atrocities we encountered. Nor sought to reconnect with Marines I fought beside. I struggled to block out everything about the war, but nightmares, depression, and guilt ensured I never would. I first imagined group therapy as guys telling ‘Rambo’ stories. Old men, touting what they did, how life might have been, and blaming everyone else for their missteps. I was wrong. In our bunch, all but one veteran saw conflict. Several lived with physical...

A long overdue apology To family, friends, and lost brother Marines, I cannot explain why I have chosen to pen this apology on this particular Christmas Day in 2024. Perhaps it's the weight of approaching my 78th birthday, or the growing difficulty in recalling my childhood memories, or finally accepting that I have spent decades viewing my past through a distant, clouded lens. Since returning from Vietnam, my only way of partitioning the dark memories of war was through a desperate struggle to forget them. But I could not simply forget Vietnam, I had to also forget my life before it.  The cost of this struggle has become painfully clear. In my relentless effort to suppress the harrowing memories of war, I inadvertently locked away the precious memories of my childhood, my family, my friends, and my brother Marines who fought and died in a jungle thousands of miles from their homes and loved ones over five decades ago. These were brothers who strengthened me through the intimidatio...