Welcome Home.

In the small town of Ashland Oregon, Bill McMillan and Kim Shelton are holding a celebration.  On this Memorial Day, Bill and Kim have organized a Welcome Home party unlike any other.  Tonight, at the Ashland Shakespeare Festival, a ceremony, open to the public, caps a 5 day long retreat, focused on the creation of a strong community of veterans and family members and encouraging expression and healing through story-telling, art, writing, meditation and movement.  I am in awe of them.

We take the time to remember those who have served.  Those who have given their lives in service to this country.   Some are gone.  Many, are still with us.

Kenny served in Vietnam.  Served on the front lines.  Saw the worst of it.  Kenny got injured over there and came home.  And that’s where the real story starts.

You see, serving in the war, in that war, changed Kenny’s life.  After returning home, he spent some time in the hospital allowing the physical scars to heal.  The physical scars.

It was the emotional ones that were tougher.  When Kenny came home, he just never felt right.  To the outside, things looked fine.  At least to others.  His wife and kids welcomed him back with open arms.  His neighbors threw a party.  His friends were glad to see him too, wanting to hear the stories of his time away.  But Kenny didn’t want to talk.  He didn’t want to tell them what had happened over there.  It was too awful.

And soon, as might be expected, things began to fall apart.  Kenny’s life came unglued, like many of the other veterans he knew.  He couldn’t sleep.  He couldn’t focus.  His mind was full of images, images no one should have to have, set in motion during the time that he was “serving his country”.  He started drinking and using drugs, anything to quell the pain, to stop the scenes from playing in his head.

And, in short time, he was all alone; without a job, without his family, without his friends, without his home.

Today Kenny lives in a halfway house for homeless people.  He’s trying to get his life back together.  He has 5 years of sobriety although he told me that every day he wants to drink.  Still.  Even after 5 years.  But he doesn’t because he knows what will happen.  He has a job now, working for a guy who understands what he’s been through because, as luck would have it, his boss is a veteran too.  He puts his money away and saves for the day when he can find a place of his own and start again.  “I am a king without a kingdom,” he writes in our weekly writing group. He’s starting to tell his stories now through writing.   His words, while eloquent, are filled with the struggle that “serving our country” set into motion. 

There are many other Kennys.  They are everywhere.  In communities like ours, all over this country.   They don’t come out for the parades.  They hide in the shadows.  On Memorial Day, let’s remember those men and women too. 

Image from here.