FROM WAR ZONES TO HOME FRONTS: A VETERAN’S JOURNEY TO A SIMPLE DREAM

My buddies and I returned from Vietnam with little expectations of becoming rich men. After succumbing to the worst year of our lives, we all wanted to acquire the love of a good woman, becoming a father, a small house with a back lawn holding a swing set, a barbeque, and a few chairs around a table to have picnics. 
 
 There would be a garage for a car, a driveway to hold a pick-up, and a front lawn with a flower bed. It didn’t seem like much to the shakers and movers, but it would forever represent enough. 
 
 Unfortunately, our PTSD made it impossible to work for another, so I started a business. On one deal, the supplier offered the evening of an escort. 
 
 When I refused on the grounds I was married, he laughed. “Come on, man!” he chirped good-naturedly, “She’ll never know.” 
 
 I shook my head and smiled. “But I’ll know! I’m a Vietnam vet and a one-woman kind of guy. I’m not going to F up a dream.” 
 
 He agreed, and we finished dinner, and I returned to the hotel. When I told my wife the story, she snuggled into my caress and kissed me warmly. “I love you very much,” she whispered. “But you do realize you’re a loser.” 
 
 “Yeah, that may be the case,” I answered. “But I got you, the kids, the house, and a business bought and paid for.” And that remained the truth of it. 
 
 Loyalty to my brothers and country meant fidelity to all I cared for and loved. It was one of the few good pieces of Vietnam I carried home. 
 
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