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which were written decades ago, remain true today—“a war passing
over”–this time in Afghanistan.
What are we teaching our children? As the old sayings go, what goes
around comes around, you reap what you sow, and the chickens come
home to roost. The wars that we have trained people for may be coming
home to the United States in more deadly ways.
I was also a young officer in the U.S. Army during the same years as
my vet buddy Parmeley. However, fortunately, I never made it to Vietnam.
But I was raised in the military family that gave its name to Ft. Bliss,
Texas, and lived in Chile during “the other 9/11”–Sept. 11, l973. I have
been diagnosed with PTSD. I have been treated by psychiatrists,
counselors, and at vets centers.
But what has helped me most has been the support by vets and our
allies to push through silence, shame, guilt, and feelings of worthlessness
and hopelessness to speak and write about my condition.
“Sound Shy” entitles my essay in our book “Veterans of War,
Veterans of Peace.” I suffer from sound trauma, after being raised on loud
Air Force bases around the world where my family was stationed. Even
today, decades later, certain sounds, such as weapon-like leaf blowers, can
trigger my sound trauma and bring back the kinds of nightmarish
“memories” about which Parmeley writes.
Much of my behavior is “sound-avoidant,” seeking quietness. So I
live and work on an organic farm, away from the concentration of people,
closer to plants, animals, and the elements. I engage in what I have written
about as agro-therapy—farms as healing places.
After leaving the military, I moved to Chile, where thousands of
young people from around the world gathered to participate in the
“democratic revolution” of Pres. Salvador Allende. Then Gen. Augusto
Pinochet, supported by the U.S. government, toppled Dr. Allende. Among
those tortured and executed was my good friend Frank Teruggi.
I survived, and still live, nearly forty years later. But I bear what is
described as “survivor’s guilt” from that experience. Rationally, I know
that it was not my fault that Frank was tortured and executed. But why
him and not me? I still hear Frank crying out, inside.