So on several occasions I've written about my father's desire for an Army career and how his dream was destroyed by an ugly disease, schizophrenia. I went searching for one draft on the blog but I can't seem to find it. But I did, however, find a picture of Vanessa at about 3 wearing my father's Army dress hat -- it was a related blog draft I started in 2010.
While serving in Germany as a tank mechanic during the Vietnam War era, my father had a severe psychotic episode which involved seizures. His memory around the events picked up at arriving at Walter Reed Hospital where he spent approximately 6 months undergoing tests and treatments. Tests and experimentation for schizo patients in the 60s were rather scary, and unfortunately, my father endured them without much support from family and friends. That breaks my heart but I can also flash a soft and touched expression since it demonstrates the amount of strength he had.
But even with a less fortunate situation, my father was a honorable veteran. He fell in love with his country. His memories for basic training and service were good and fun -- he was the troop clown, I'm sure. Can you tell by the picture below?! My father strived to do what he must in spite of personal consequences. Many times I saw my father get emotional with patriotism. He believed in the service so much that he persuaded his children to consider the same path in life.
Note: The antique radio my father's hat is resting on today, was a prized possession for him. He acquired it when I was really young. The most impressive thing with it is that it works. Dad was incredibly proud of the fact. When I was a late teen, young adult, he passed the radio on to me. He held onto it through times we lost everything. He told me that it reminded him of times when listening to the radio when he was a young, finding peace and enjoyment during those special times. Every time I look up at it, I think of him and what a special treasure it was to him. Then I think how lucky I am to have it.
