Memories on Memorial Day

Me in Vietnam, 1969

This is the 40th Memorial Day since I was in Vietnam, a not-so-happy draftee serving with the 25th Infantry Division at a hot and dusty place called Cu Chi. Like most Vietnam vets of my acquaintance, I don't think much about the experience any more and I really don't like talking about it much. We got no parades when returned and we didn't win the war. Most of us just ditched the uniforms, grew our hair long and faded into our generation as quickly as we could. The last thing I ever wanted to do was tell war stories and drink beer at some VFW hall. I came away from it thinking Vietnam was just a big national misadventure that ended up doing little besides killing almost 60,000 Americans. Not a particularly popular position in VFW halls.

I was fortunate. Although I was drafted and trained to be a mobile radio operator with an infantry platoon, I never really was "out in the bush." Platoon radio operators were prime targets for snipers and their survival rate wasn't great. When I got to Vietnam, my journalism experience helped me talk my way into a job as communications specialist, writing press releases and articles for the Army newspaper at the division headquarters. I was also assigned a Polaroid camera to take pictures of the division commander and the wounded soldiers he visited in the makeshift hospital at the base in Cu Chi. My job was all about presenting a positive image for the Army and what our nation thought it was doing in that sad place. I call it my sportwriting period -- root, root, root for the home team!

I also was confused about my sexual orientation at the time, and very afraid to express what I was feeling to anybody. In other words, they didn't ask and I didn't tell. It was difficult to keep that kind of secret, always wondering who suspected and what would happen if the truth were known. I remember meeting a goodlooking Navy guy once who told me his job in the investigative unit was to get "queers to hit on him" so they could be drummed out and dishonorably discharged. He laughed about it, but it pained me to think about how many lives of decent, patriotic people they were wrecking. And I vowed that I would never become one of those statistics. I kept my secret. But if I had it to do again, I wouldn't. Why be part of a club that doesn't want me? All I had to do was raise my hand and I would have been spared the privilege of an all-expenses-paid trip to Vietnam -- keeping company with Dick Cheney, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and a host of others with good connections or at least good luck.

I have made several visits to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., and I cry every time as I read all those names of lives cut short. I also think about all those who have survived Iraq and Afghanistan but in horribly burned or mangled condition. Maybe it's almost better that so many of my generation didn't survive their Vietnam injuries, if their future would have meant the endless surgeries and hospitalization our Middle East veterans are enduring.

When we lived in Santa Barbara a few years ago, the local symphony used to give a free concert at City Hall every Memorial Day. A highlight came when they played the song associated with each branch of the service, and veterans of that branch were asked to stand as it was played and the crowd cheered. I got a lump in my throat when Terry and I stood as they played "The Caissons Go Rolling Along." Sure, we were reluctant warriors in a muddled war that maybe never should have been fought. But it felt good as people applauded us more than 3o years later. The applause we never heard when we came home.

Apple Blossom Time

Our house on Whidbey Island is almost finished at long last, and we will be moving in mid-June. In the side yard of our house stand four very old fruit trees -- three apples and one pear. I believe they were planted when the house was built in the early 1960s. They had not been pruned for many, many years, and they looked sad.

A couple of months ago, a friend who works for our construction company offered to prune them before the spring blossoms came. They really needed a haircut and now they look positively spiffy. When I was at the house early this month, I noticed that the apple blossoms were out. What a beautiful sight!

It is amazing how this world works. Gardens will produce abundant crops if you tend them. Fruit trees will bear food for many people if you look after them. They don't ask anything in return except our attention.

I expect that, when we get to Whidbey, we'll have lots of food to share.

In Love and Together

Our good friends Terry and Greg exchanged rings during a very touching commitment ceremony in their backyard recently. They are special people, and I was honored to be asked to give a toast in their honor. This is what I said:

Tonight we’re here to celebrate something very special. Terry and Greg made their own private commitments to each other over the past six years, but this evening they decided to state them publicly, in front of all of us.

My partner Terry and I were together 30 years before we had our commitment ceremony in 2005…so congratulations, you two, on getting it together a lot sooner than we did!

There is something very profound and spiritual, I think, about making a solemn commitment to the one you love out loud, in front of your friends and family. It’s a testament to the pride and love you feel for each other; you want the world to know this is a lifetime commitment – thick or thin, rich or poor, flabby or buff, or even when one of you is flat on his back on a gurney in the ER.

That’s what so many people who are opposed to same-sex marriage miss. It’s not just about a piece of paper called a license, or a tax deduction – although that would be nice, or even a holy sacrament. It’s about two people in love who want to be together, and who also want the world to know, in some formal and public way, that they’ve found something very special with each other.

I’ve known Terry for more than eight years since our paths first crossed at work. He’s everybody’s friend, a bundle of energy who’s incredibly organized. He’s always eager to help solve your problems. Or act as your father confessor. Or give you free counseling for all that dysfunction in your life. Whether you want it or not. In the corporate world you meet a lot of sharks and phonys. But I knew right away that Terry was a loving, genuine, caring person with a real passion for everything he does.

When Terry introduced us to Greg a bit later, we couldn’t help but see what a perfect match he was for Terry. A quiet and generous man of integrity and honesty, who cares deeply about other people and never stops giving of himself to the things he believes in. Terry and Greg truly are a match made in heaven. It’s obvious that they were meant for other – no matter what the Pope and James Dobson think.

Love is what holds two people together. It’s a gift that helps us see what God intended in this world. It is also a wonderful mystery, but it what demonstrates is simply this: being together is better than being alone. Congratulations, Terry and Greg on finding each other and for showing all of us, through your relationship, a bit more about what love is.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I would ask you raise your glass with me in a toast to our dear friends, Terry and Greg…..in love and together.