American Dad
After returning from Vietnam, my father went to work for the phone company where he remained – throughout its many reincarnations – until retirement. As a blue-collar, unionized worker, his career was peppered with bouts of unemployment due to strikes.
I'll never forget the day (at the beginning of summer vacation, I think), as my brother and I sat happily munching our morning cereal and planning our long stretch of personal recreation, our parents broke the news that dad was on strike again, and this meant no new toys, clothes, trips, etc. – and certainly no expensive, name-brand goodies – for possibly a very long time.
That was my first experience with the phenomenon of delicious food losing its flavor in mid-chew due to the introduction of crappy news.
We obviously survived, and you could say I came away wiser for it (and perhaps even a little healthier minus the Sugar Crisp): not only was I impacted over and over by the importance of managing your money well, but I learned firsthand about the history and purpose of labor unions.
Many people have a mixed view of the union's current-day purposefulness. As with most things, there are two sides (at least) to every issue. Where there was once a desperate need in the past – there may not be such a need anymore. This is why things are negotiated. Which is a huge benefit of unionization – the forced dialog between the workers and employers to achieve a fair workplace.
And hopefully these strikes will have swift and happy endings.
This Veteran's Day I'm also reminded of my father's service in Vietnam. For many years (and even now) it remained a deep mystery to me. I mean, how do you ask your dad if he ever held a dying friend? Or if he… well… you know. Part of you wants to know – but part of you would rather not.
Years ago I was "cast" in a project by a Vietnam vet who'd served two tours. He wanted to do an epic play with music and poetry about the injustices of the war and the on-going humiliations of the VA hospitals. I was rabid to help this man. Ideas swirled in my brain day and night. I tried talking to him – getting him to realize what needed to be done/changed/added/cut…
But exposure to Agent Orange (and a lot of death and destruction) made him unstable – and he knew it. He'd apologize repeatedly for being crazy…
It tore me up to abandon the project after weeks of futile discussion. I had to come to terms with the fact that he had issues I could not handle. Maybe someday I'll be able to lend my skills to helping vets who deserve better, get better. I just read a statistic released that 1 out of 4 homeless are veterans (including Iraq vets). So maybe there is something I can do to help these men and women by way of donating time or goods to food pantries and shelters. (Other recommendations welcome.)
'Tis the season. (I just heard "Jingle Bells" playing at Sephora, so it must be.)
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