Veterans need a lot of things, and they deserve even more than we can give them.  That sounds so cliché and I have erased it about 16 times.  It doesn’t say enough.   It doesn’t say it right.   I wish I had a phrase that would just knock your socks off when I said it.   I wish I had a phrase that would make people say  “Oh yes.   We need to make life right for everyone who has sacrificed for our freedom.”    I am struggling to find the words to say these things.   I could just cry because of the dysfunction we are experiencing with our VA system right now.    We have to fix the VA; it is so broken.

I spend a good bit of time lately talking with one of this nation’s veterans.   He served 4 years in the Pacific during WWII as an Army Infantryman in Okinawa.  He is 92 years old.   He takes 1 medication for his cholesterol every evening, and he takes something for Vertigo as needed.   He takes Tylenol for back pain.  Other than being 92 and thin, frail and easily tired,  he doesn’t have any significant physical issues.   He suffers from dementia, has lost his short term memory and does not always know where he is or what time it is.   Fortunately for now, he does know who most people in his life are, even if he gets confused about the time frame we are living in.   He remembers almost anything you ask him about the past.   And he can remember EVERYTHING about his time during the war.

We were talking the other night about the very first coat he ever had.  He grew up on a farm in Britton’s Neck, SC,  very rich in family and love but poor by monetary standards.  He said he was six, and his grandfather sold a calf he was raising and considered a pet to use the money to buy a long black overcoat for him.   He smiled while he was recalling the story.   He said, “I lost a friend and got a coat.  I’m not sure I liked the trade.”     He also talked about how it was his job to put sawdust in a big wooden box so he and his father could pack eggs in it.   They could drive 20 miles one way to the town of Marion to sell the eggs, and none would break.   It was a rough, dirt road ride in a wagon.

This veteran left Britton’s Neck before he finished high school to join the army.  He lied about his age to sign up.   He served faithfully for 4 years and came back home and finished school.   He married, had two sons and worked in construction for most of his life.    He attended church where he was a longtime leader, he helped in his community, he raised his family and he finally retired in the early 1990’s as did his wife.   He has never wanted or needed much.  Until reading became too difficult, he read his bible every day.  I used to worry that he can’t read the bible anymore, but I know that he really doesn’t need to see the words.  They are etched in his heart.   He is a simple, gentle, kind and Godly man.

I have heard maybe 5 stories about his time in the Army, and I have known him for 28 years.   He almost never talks about his time in service.   That is a very common characteristic of the Greatest Generation, the ones who served in WWII.    I only know a few stories that he has let slip out.   The only time he has ever intentionally talked to me about the war was many years ago when he came into my kitchen and saw me throwing away some food that was left on the dinner plates.   He told me about a young island boy in Okinawa who would meet him at the edge of the jungle to get the army base scraps to take home to his family.   He told me about how he would have been in huge trouble for feeding the child, but that every night that he could, he would sneak to the edge of the jungle and give the child some food.   He said they never spoke; he just gave him the food.   He told me that now he never saw a scrap of leftover food that didn’t remind him of the jungle and that boy.

This veteran is my father-in-law.   We call him Papa.  He and my mother-in-law live with my family in their own suite of rooms in our home, and they have been with us for 10 years.   They did not need medical care when they came, but they do now.   Time is taking its toll on their bodies.   I know Papa’s time with us is drawing to a close, so I am careful to spend time with him, make sure he is comfortable, listen to him speak.   He is afraid of being alone, and he does not like the quiet. His being in our house has been a blessing for him because he feels connected to the world he is just too tired to venture out into.  He gets his days and nights mixed up because his sleeping patterns are a little out of whack.   Sometimes, mostly at night,  I just plop down in the chair beside him and listen to him.

Last night, Papa said the most powerful thing he has ever said to me about this country, our government and our Veterans Affairs system.   If you know me at all, you know I am an analyzer and a fixer.   I want things to be right.   I go right to the heart of a problem and figure out what we need to do to fix it.  When I don’t have the resources or authority to fix it, it makes me crazy.   That’s where I am today.  A little crazy.

Last night, I plopped down in a chair beside Papa because he told me he was worried.   I asked him what he was worried about.  I was expecting him to say something like “The nights are so long” or “I’m worried I won’t hear Grandmama if she calls for me.”   They sleep in separate rooms because he sleeps in a chair.   But that is not what he said.   He said this: “I’m worried because I feel like the Government is mistreating us.”    So I waited a few seconds and asked to him explain.   He said “When we first got to Okinawa, there was a bunch of us sitting under some trees in the jungle talking about why we were there.  We were young and just knew that we had signed up for something great.  The government had promised us that they would take care of us and we would not have to worry about anything.  We sat under that tree just planning and talking about how much we were going to have.   But that was a promise that they couldn’t keep.   They didn’t keep it.”

He wouldn’t say much more than that, and I was not entirely sure what he meant.  I wanted to ease his mind if I could, so I asked him if there was something he needed that the Army had not given him yet.   He waited a long time to answer.  I thought maybe he had gone to sleep.  His head had dropped.  But he slowly raised his head and said “Angie, a veteran needs friendship.   We just need friendship.   And friends keep promises.   They didn’t keep their promise.   That’s why I feel mistreated.”

Now I know that this can be interpreted a zillion different ways.  It is vague; it doesn’t necessarily go together; its hard to quantify or measure.  I get that.  But I also get this:   this man who saw things he can’t and won’t speak about, things he can’t and won’t ever forget, gave all he could to a country who made a promise to him.   And whatever that promise was, it was not kept.   And he knows it.  He feels it.   And all we have to do is pick up the paper and see hundreds, probably thousands of stories of other veterans who feel the same way.   We have broken many promises.

SHAME ON US.    We have dropped the ball and let government and bureaucracy destroy any plans we had to take care of those who allow us to live in the greatest country on earth with the greatest freedoms.  We need to fix this.

I use the same phrases in my life all the time.  My husband, my kids, my co-workers, my friends all hear me say them.  I imagine lots of eye rolling goes on when I start saying them.  Several apply here:

• We are not crazy, so let’s stop doing the same dumb things over and over again.
• This is not rocket science. How hard can this be?
• Get out of the weeds. Kill the mosquito and then go for the gnats.
• Does what we are doing pass “the pillow test”? Can you sleep at night with what you have done?

I am looking for some powerful, magic words to say to the new Secretary of Veterans Affairs David Shulkin so that we can fix this.   I know they don’t exist, and words won’t fix this, but we have to start somewhere.    Last night, a 92 year old veteran who doesn’t really need a whole lot, who has not asked for anything, who is the epitome of loyalty and patriotism, showed me the shame in not keeping our promises.   He deserves better.   He deserves to know he went to war for a country that is decent enough to keep its promises.

Secretary Shulkin:   Examine the promises.   All of them.   Write them down for everyone to see.   Keep in mind that for a patriot, it is not just a law, or just a regulation.  It is a promise.  Then make each and every one of them happen.   I know it will take time, but we can’t settle for anything less.  Until we teach people the importance of a promise, we will always fall short.   We owe our military everything, literally everything we have, and they are only asking for a portion.    There is no better deal than that.

Thank you, all veterans, for your service.   I truly get your sacrifice.   All.  Day.  Long.