This Memorial Day Save a Veteran
Take Time, listen, and care.
Like most high school students, I read the Gettysburg Address and, like most students, had little understanding of the immensity of President Lincoln’s few words. It wasn’t until I walked along the Union and Confederate lines that I read the plaque dedicated to all the marriage-age men of their small New England village who died defending the Union and ending slavery. I then not only understood but felt President Lincoln’s words as if I were there when he spoke, “… we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground…”
Any words I may place on this page come far short of what those brave men and women deserve. So, I will address those who served our country, left the battlefield standing, but are teetering from the experience. We can be the shoulder they can lean on.
In 1977, it was our third and last Memorial Day weekend when the six (five engineering students and Tim’s brother Dave) of us would raft down the Deschutes River in Eastern Oregon. It was a challenging river; our K-Mart rafts made it riskier. However, Tim & Dave were our guides; they could read the water, knew where the fish were, and knew how to have a great time. Tim flew an F4, Dave was a Marine, and both were Vietnam Veterans. Tim spoke little of his two tours and Dave didn’t speak a word. No one could tell a story as Dave did; I still remember his exact words regarding navigating White House Rapids, “Either enter boldly on the left or do not enter at all.” At the start of the last trip, Tim let us know that Dave had just gotten out of treatment at the VA and could not drink anymore. At twenty-two, I didn’t understand what that meant. For the next three days, we drank our beer, and Dave smoked his marijuana. At the end of the trip, we said our goodbyes to Dave and headed back to Corvallis. Days later, when we were standing in line for graduation, it was passed down from person to person; Dave took his own life.
In 2019, I arrived very early for the Trump Rally at Rio Rancho. I aimed to chat with everyone in line to see and hear President Trump. I caught up with old friends I had not seen for many years and made new acquaintances. Everyone was in good spirits. Then I met a woman in her early thirties with a young daughter; she asked me a question quietly, “What is your position on veteran suicide?” I looked, but there was no husband or father standing next to them. Veteran Suicide, what could I say? I ended our hushed conversation with, here is my card with my phone number. Please call me. Days later, she called me when I was at home. We talked for an hour or two; her husband was serving on a peacekeeping mission when he was severely beaten by one of the local factions. Although he survived, he was never the same. He was discharged and a short time later took his own life. There was nothing I could say to heal the wound she and her daughter had. I told her I was running for office and that I had no power over the Veterans Administration. She responded, “You listened and cared, “which is enough.
In the 2020 election, my campaign team wanted to video people saying nice things about me. I was doubtful about it, but I agreed. After they filmed the testimonies, we met up at our house for additional filming. When the film crew, producer, and political consultant walked in, they told me. We had expected the normal Mick to be a good guy which we got. We were skeptical when the rough guy in the warehouse volunteered. He told the camera his story, saying you saved his life. Huh, I was surprised. Then, days later, it came to me. I was walking into the office, and it was a busy day. I asked him how he was, and he told me, and I listened. He was better a couple of hours later, and we had a list of resources available.
I think of Dave often. I didn’t have the maturity to connect with Dave before he made that tragic decision forty-seven years ago. But I do have it today; I ask friends and strangers, “How are you?” and listen to the tone of the response. You can, too. This Memorial Day, there are veterans who are still standing but teetering. Reach out to them, listen, and let them know you care.