THE LUNAR REPORT - "BROTHER AND BUNNY" Memorial Day, 2010
Today is Memorial Day. You know what? I won’t spend a single moment honoring veterans today.
Call me what you will. I don’t care. This is the way it is.
I became draft age just a couple of years before the end of the Viet Nam War. So I missed the heavy-duty worry so many young teens felt back then. My brother did not. Neither did Bunny. They were both in the thick of things.
My brother went to college. Back then, if you went to college and kept your grades up, you weren’t drafted. Still, that was a pretty heavy burden for an 18, 19, 20 year old college student. Miss a couple of classes, go to an exam hung over a couple of times, and before you know it, it’s “next stop Saigon.”
Bunny was the son of my Dad’s best friend. He was an only child. He did not go to college. I assume he was drafted. But I was a bit too young to pay attention to such details back then. Or maybe I just refused to comprehend some things. But Bunny went. He went to war.
My brother and Bunny were roughly the same age. Certainly of the same generation. Certainly with all the same worries and concerns and uncertain future. Well. To some degree anyway.
When my brother finished college, he got a job as a teacher. Back then, if one taught Math or Science, his draft status was deferred. Math and Science teachers could not be drafted. Well, my brother’s first job out of college was teaching Math. At Landon Junior High School in Jacksonville, Florida. He was safe from the blood and gore and danger and horrors of such a screwed up conflict. My brother’s family - his wife, mom, dad, sister and brother - could breath easy. I can only imagine how at ease my brother felt with his career choice.
He taught those seventh graders on the Jacksonville Southside for an entire school year. He has some great stories about that year. At the end of the school term, the spring following his hiring, from out of the blue, my brother quit his job there. We were all concerned about his future armed services status. He told us that he would rather go to Viet Nam than to teach 7th graders Math one more year. What a great line. I have told that story many times. Quoted that line many times. And I’ve gotten some great laughs. My brother is a pretty funny guy.
So he left Landon Junior High. He joined the Army.
Meanwhile, Bunny was fighting and struggling to just survive. The hell that young man must have been going through is unimaginable for me. It was very real for Bunny. It was even more real when the chopper he was in went down under fire. Again. I don’t know the details. I do know my Dad’s best friend had a son missing in action in Viet Nam or Cambodia or Laos or somewhere not home.
Bunny was presumed dead back then. His death has long since been confirmed.
I didn’t know Bunny. I knew his Dad. And naturally he was crushed. I remember my Dad being a really good friend during that time. My Mom also. The horror and sadness of it all never really registered with me. Not back then. “Maybe if I had known him,” I always thought.
Years later, my brother and I were at one of my favorite watering holes in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. We were having a beer with a couple of friends of mine. I used the occasion to once again tell some friends about my brother and how he “would rather go to Viet Nam than to teach seventh graders math one more year.” As usual, that line got a huge laugh. But on this one occasion, my brother got a bit serious. For the first time that I can remember, I could detect moisture in the man’s eyes. When the laughter from my friends and me subsided just a bit, my brother looked at me and in his own words said, “I enlisted because of Bunny.”
He used more words than that. And his explanation was a bit deeper and more thoughtful. But the message was clear.
“I enlisted because of Bunny.”
I love my brother. He’s a veteran. My Dad was a veteran. So were my uncles. I love them all. But I will honor none of them today.
Today is Bunny’s Day. He never had a chance to be a veteran. That young man died while still a soldier. So many others have as well.
And this is Memorial Day.
Call me what you will. I don’t care. This is the way it is.
I became draft age just a couple of years before the end of the Viet Nam War. So I missed the heavy-duty worry so many young teens felt back then. My brother did not. Neither did Bunny. They were both in the thick of things.
My brother went to college. Back then, if you went to college and kept your grades up, you weren’t drafted. Still, that was a pretty heavy burden for an 18, 19, 20 year old college student. Miss a couple of classes, go to an exam hung over a couple of times, and before you know it, it’s “next stop Saigon.”
Bunny was the son of my Dad’s best friend. He was an only child. He did not go to college. I assume he was drafted. But I was a bit too young to pay attention to such details back then. Or maybe I just refused to comprehend some things. But Bunny went. He went to war.
My brother and Bunny were roughly the same age. Certainly of the same generation. Certainly with all the same worries and concerns and uncertain future. Well. To some degree anyway.
When my brother finished college, he got a job as a teacher. Back then, if one taught Math or Science, his draft status was deferred. Math and Science teachers could not be drafted. Well, my brother’s first job out of college was teaching Math. At Landon Junior High School in Jacksonville, Florida. He was safe from the blood and gore and danger and horrors of such a screwed up conflict. My brother’s family - his wife, mom, dad, sister and brother - could breath easy. I can only imagine how at ease my brother felt with his career choice.
He taught those seventh graders on the Jacksonville Southside for an entire school year. He has some great stories about that year. At the end of the school term, the spring following his hiring, from out of the blue, my brother quit his job there. We were all concerned about his future armed services status. He told us that he would rather go to Viet Nam than to teach 7th graders Math one more year. What a great line. I have told that story many times. Quoted that line many times. And I’ve gotten some great laughs. My brother is a pretty funny guy.
So he left Landon Junior High. He joined the Army.
Meanwhile, Bunny was fighting and struggling to just survive. The hell that young man must have been going through is unimaginable for me. It was very real for Bunny. It was even more real when the chopper he was in went down under fire. Again. I don’t know the details. I do know my Dad’s best friend had a son missing in action in Viet Nam or Cambodia or Laos or somewhere not home.
Bunny was presumed dead back then. His death has long since been confirmed.
I didn’t know Bunny. I knew his Dad. And naturally he was crushed. I remember my Dad being a really good friend during that time. My Mom also. The horror and sadness of it all never really registered with me. Not back then. “Maybe if I had known him,” I always thought.
Years later, my brother and I were at one of my favorite watering holes in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. We were having a beer with a couple of friends of mine. I used the occasion to once again tell some friends about my brother and how he “would rather go to Viet Nam than to teach seventh graders math one more year.” As usual, that line got a huge laugh. But on this one occasion, my brother got a bit serious. For the first time that I can remember, I could detect moisture in the man’s eyes. When the laughter from my friends and me subsided just a bit, my brother looked at me and in his own words said, “I enlisted because of Bunny.”
He used more words than that. And his explanation was a bit deeper and more thoughtful. But the message was clear.
“I enlisted because of Bunny.”
I love my brother. He’s a veteran. My Dad was a veteran. So were my uncles. I love them all. But I will honor none of them today.
Today is Bunny’s Day. He never had a chance to be a veteran. That young man died while still a soldier. So many others have as well.
And this is Memorial Day.
Please visit the sites of some of my friends.
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You touch me and I'll kick you in the rear.
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