From Civilian to Soldier to Veteran and Beyond

Most boys and some girls played army when they were younger. Funny how we called it Army and not Marines… Take note my Marine friends. I remember going into the woods near my house in Mandeville Louisiana, now built up into a subdivision. My friend Michael Bordelon and Shannon Cross (Shannon Wilson) would be on my side and the neighbors would be on the other. Always 6 or 7 against us three. We would find sticks that looked like guns and Magnolia flower buds that we used for grenades. We would plan attacks on ambushes. We played Army as a team. Best friends.

Our time on Saturday morning lasted till after dark. Our dedication to the mission (game) was absolute. We always left markers on the ground so we could come back Sunday and begin exactly how we left. Soldiers in 9, 10, 11 and 12-year-old boys. Yup…. We were a Band of Brothers.  

Flash forward 9 years. Graduation from High School. Parties, College decisions, and Ohhh yes… girls. It started with me. Ok, my buddies can blame me. I signed up and did my entry at MEPS New Orleans. My buddies followed. Shannon and I went Army and Michael went Marines. Bryan went Navy with Chris.

When you step off the bus at basic, it is a world away from normal and more in line with a girl laughing at you when you drop trow in a drunken stupor at a college party. The DS are not there to make friends. They were there (learned that after basic) to make sure you live long enough to come home or kill as many enemy as possible before you give your life for your country. Combat is a no-shitter situation I learned later. Combat is the only experience one veteran can see in other veterans’ eyes. There is no faking the experience.

In less than 320 words, I went through civilian to Soldier. Now I will go directly to the after effect. This is the part that makes me miss the military. The dedication, loyalty, the ability to recognize a small contribution by each team member can deliver a BIG ASS victory. No mission is accomplished alone. All missions I have been blessed to be involved in consisted of no less than 3 different departments.

 We had Air support, Ground support, Intel, and yes sometimes we had a group of these Marine folks hanging back till we cleared the emplacements of the enemy. That’s right. King of Battle baby. 75^th Artillery Brigade. 5/18^th. The infantry is referred to as the Queen of Battle. The Artillery (King of Battle) keeps her from getting molested.  Ok, Ok I am getting off-topic.

What I am getting at, if anyone has made it this far in the Blog, (post a comment if you have) is we are a team. The Unified Warrior Foundation Team. A group of Families that in 2015 sent names of their loved ones to a veteran who was hiking the AT. No one, Not even my friends had any idea I was planning on suicide on that hike. By God's greatness and those names, I beat it. Now I have a mission that I will finish.

From 2015 and financially stable to 2019 and more broke than the day I took my physical at the MEPS center before I was shipped off to Basic in 1988, I have been devoted to finishing this mission. Why haven’t I just gone back to supporting my family and myself? Those days of playing Army and the days spent in combat tell the tail. The mission is not over.  Just like playing Army in 1979 in Mandeville Louisiana. That is to build the memorial designed in 2016. The largest in the Nation. The only memorial with pavers signifying veteran suicide. Why do we hide from the epidemic? Why shy from it? Red pavers signify suicide and Tan all the others. The memorial is not meant to glorify that act, but to make sure we understand the magnitude. Their actions do not represent who they were. They were our brother, our sisters. Least we never forget.

We can either make a difference or we can act as if we give two holy shits, so we look compassionate to our friends. Here we go……Hold on to your sense of how a Director of a foundation should act and finish the last 75 words.

We (Americans personally) donated 25 billion to Haiti, we donate 180 million to save the freaking rain Forrest (ok that’s not a bad idea) and we on average cannot account for on average $73.60 per month on expenses. But donating a few coins and telling as many friends and family to donate is like trying to make the last few toilet paper sheets last so you don’t have to call for support. (Plan ahead and have support under the sink…… just saying).

Imagine a memorial that honors ALL veterans.  Honors ALL conflicts (not just the 9 publicized). A memorial that demands recognition of our brothers and sisters and families that gave all. Some gave on the field; some gave because the field came home with them.

Donate or share the request and story. 5600 miles on a bike in the winter. Hooahhhhhhh

What the Hell are you thinking? Part II

I hope my guardian angel has received combat pay for watching over my ass for the past 49 years. Or perhaps my ride on this big blue and green ball spinning around has a purpose. Now I like that idea. (Purpose; a reason for pushing through when what your chasing seems to always be just beyond your reach.) We all have to have a reason to wake up every morning. Curiosity demands it, our nature requires it. How we kick that donkey and start the ride is all up to us. 
As opposed to dropping two tickets on the kiddy ride at the fair and taking the slow easy ride, you decide on the let us see what we had for lunch as we regret wearing boxer shorts on the ride called the gravity destroyer. I have not always chosen the smartest route, but I have never quite once that ride begins. 
It reminds me of that party I went to in Highschool where I was hoping to work up the courage to make a move on a girl I liked. I took it cautiously, perhaps half fear and half anxiety, but in that moment, a fellow classmate swooped in and in a drunken blur, made an ass out of himself. I guess she liked that and I missed my chance. Just another example of why just kicking that bull in the balls and hope for that 8-second ride that will get you a perfect score is the only way to make an impression. However, the impression I want to make is not for fame or fortune. 
The impression I want to carve into the granite of society is "No matter the size of the wall, there is always a ladder that will reach the top. You just cannot be afraid to climb that high".
Ok, now that I have penned that out as an intro to Part II of What the Hell are you Thinking, let's kick this bull in the sack and start this ride. Not just a 5600-mile bicycle ride across this nation, but the ride that is meant to open up the discussion of veteran suicide and for once, solve an issue that has taken more Americans than the wars we fight in. 
A memorial was designed in 2016. A memorial that would be 2000 feet in length and hold over 85000 custom made pavers to honor all soldiers and families. Let me clarify that last sentence. ALL SOLDIERS more specifically is the point. The memorial is designed with two colors of pavers. One Red and one Tan. The red pavers represent veteran suicides and the tan pavers are reserved for all others. The reason for the profound color difference is to show the true impact of what the memorial is being built for. 
No longer will the act dictate who the soldier was. The soldier was a hero. The soldier gave their life to this country. Gave their life not on the battlefield far away, but on what the battlefield left them with. 
So what was I thinking when I put together a 5600-mile bicycle ride from San Diego to St.Augustine Florida then North to Millinocket Maine that will be traversed in winter. My mom asked the same question, except there were a few words like what the @$#% are you thinking. Are you trying to put me in the nuthouse before your dad?
Then I remind her of the Plane crash she was in when she was pregnant with me in her tummy. My ride isn't over. It was not over behind the tree that day on the Appalachian Trail and it wasn't over in a plane crash. I didn't build this wall in my path. Gotta go over it. 
So, what was I thinking? I was thinking I will rely on my military family, all 363 of them that I carried on the first AT hike, and kick this bull in the sack and get this memorial built. Rely on the notion that we are all here for a reason and our ride isn't over. We can Talk or we can Do. What's your pleasure? 
www.unifiedwarrior.org

Woke up Breathing

     I woke up this morning and without actually thinking about it, I walked into the kitchen and started making some coffee. Turned the television on FOX News, then feed my dog. Simple tasks that we are so used to doing, we do not even think about it, as if hard-wired into us. Except for a simple math problem, I would have continued to slide through the days doing what I was hard-wired to do.
     Think about this for a moment. We count everything in our lives. We measure ingredients and we count calories. We count the days till Christmas or the weekend. Heck when a commercial comes on, we are trying to guess how long this intrusion into your personal television bubble will last. Seriously, would you buy insurance from a Bird with glasses? And the bird's partner... well he isn't the smartest kitty in the litter box. But I digress.
     Now I know some of you all are asking, what did a math problem have to do with whatever you're talking about. Well slow your roll, I am getting to it. But I warn you, the rest of your day is going to be shot. So if you need to grab a beverage of the alcohol nature, feel free. I can wait. Ok, here it goes. Now, remember, we tend to stroll through life trying not to bump into too many walls. Hell, we have enough stress in our lives we don't need to add "paint the wall" to it.
     The average life span of a man is 77 years. Single men live longer, don't ask me why. Buckle up because here is where depression will set in. We all know there are 365 days in a year, (Don't bother me with that leap year crap). Settle down and follow this. 77 years is 28,105 days. I know some of you all grabbed your calculator on your phone. Trust me, it is 28,105 days. Now in my case, just turned 50; actually in a few months but if you all get technical I will stop this ride and head back home.
     50 years old means I have burned through 18,250 days. Now, here we go. 28,105 minus 18,250 leaves 9,855. Yup, that is correct. 9,855 days left, on average. I know, I know, some poor fools live much longer. However, standing in front of a mirror and I am ready for that giant rock from space to give us the dinosaur treatment.
     Now I am not all doom and gloom. I can say I have no regrets over the past 48 and a half years. That's right, 48 and a half years. because seriously, I could have done without messing my diaper when I was a tiny little tax deduction for my parents. As for the incident the day after eating some damn good Mexican food and drinking to excess..... well let's just thank the good Lord above for the 24 hour Walmart and eight pack of drawers for 2,96. But moving on to the point I was aiming for, we cannot stop the sun rising or setting, it is going to come and go as it pleases. We cannot press a pause button and get some extra time. So if we are on this ride and trust me, we are on this ride. We didn't ask for it. We sure as hell cannot slow it down. What we can do is, come to the realization that every morning when the sun comes up, we have been essentially given a fresh 24 hours to continue to improve and grow. To smile even when the day is a shit show. Why? Well for me, it is because I only have 9,855 days left. Wake up breathing every morning and those 9,855 days will be better than the past ones.