July 4^th Fireworks

I’m sitting at my small desk that was salvaged from the inventory of furniture that wasn’t purchased by the new owners of the company I spent almost forty years building, nurturing, and enjoyably making successful. Truthfully, I’m glad I don’t have to answer the bell every day.

The reason I’m writing is because of what day of the year it is. I am truly a patriot who is a proud American. The kids say I have the T-shirt but I also have the scars and limp that signify the successful return to our great United States. This time of year, many love the spectacle of bombs bursting in air. If I can see them it doesn’t bother me. But fifty years ago the sounds of many enemy mortars shooting off their deadly load and then the wait still gives me the sweats. The wait to hear if the shell hit somewhere else. Hopefully not among the aircraft we used to pin point the enemy.

There it was, a distinctive “whoosh” followed by clenching my fists waiting for the “boom”. If you heard the “boom” you were cool but said a silent prayer for all those around.

Again, fifty years later, while sitting in the safety of my home, “whoosh” the sound making my body go tense. With my eyes clenched shut I wait, but the boom is not near but up in the air. My body relaxes but another “whoosh” heightens my anxiousness again.

It’s wonderful for so many to enjoy the spectacle but I see “Star Shells” lighting up the sky to give riflemen targets. This should all be ancient history but my mind still senses the sounds and sights of over fifty years ago.

For several years I would go out on my boat and be far away from the celebration. But now I have to stay home and go through the annual terror of experiencing what’s captured in my mind from that long ago terror.

Be proud to be an American with thousands of men who have willingly lived through those memories.