Anniversery….40 years

me wanting to be a sailor-with my brother Frank

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

 

 

As a boy-the boy in the photograph,many of my days were spent playing Captain of my ship.

Our father had built this unusual set of bunk beds in my bedroom-they weren’t typical of what you would think bunk beds look like. They were kind of an offset situation,one bed going in one direction,the other in the opposite at a right angle. That one combined a window-that window looked out on our West Virginia yard that was an incline that would scare any trucker to death. It was perfect for a boy who wanted to play ’ship’, I could sit up in the top bunk and open that window and lean out as if I was piloting a huge destroyer out the channel.

My older brother had joined the Navy. He had come home from boot camp-he gave me the sailors hat. Our father had been a petty officer in the Navy and our mother sewed the patches on my jersey. I was so proud of my new gear.

You can see the age difference between my brother and I. After his leave from boots was over he headed off for his duty station. I returned to Captain my ship-most likely with more vigor than ever with my sailors cap and stripes.

High school wasn’t so good for me. We had come from West Virginia via a short life in Tuckahoe Virginia to live in the suburbs of Washington DC. My clothing remain the same as in West Virginia-converted from hand me downs from my cousin who had to be six foot tall. I was the only kid in the world that had pockets that dropped to my knees-my lunch money change was an arms length to reach. This stood out in the crowd of country club suburbanites who came from families that color coded these kids cars to match the new clothes they wore to school.

I hated that time. I had a part time job after school and saved enough to buy a shirt like the ones they wore-one kid smeared a blueberry pie on it the first day I wore it-another pulled the hanger loop on the back of the shirt. It ripped. In boot camp there was no color coded cars to come with the clothes-everything was uniform.

I went into boot camp 40 years ago this past Friday. We arrived in Camp Moffitt at 0200 in the morning. At 0400 I woke to some man screaming and yelling that my mother did not live here and this was not her house-and he damned sure wasn’t going to let us sleep in. At this point I determined that what ever this guy said to do-I was going to do it. He had my attention the first minute we met. And he kept our attention for the following nine weeks-he was our drill instructor, known as the DI.

That Saturday morning we ‘marched’ around the camp to be given haircuts and get uniforms. It was official.

The following day at 0410 as we headed towards the mess hall for breakfast-newspaper boys stood outside hawking papers. For the next nine weeks we would only be allowed a Sunday paper. That mornings paper had the headline above Jimi Hendrix photo-WOODSTOCK. I remember thinking-why was I here this week….I idolized Jimi Hendrix.

They didn’t give you much of a chance to mull over current events in boot camp. You owned the paper for about an hour until they passed the trash drum and of to marching somewhere we’d go. It was beautiful to see the company’s of men marching. We wore white leggings that covered our boots-they made it look like birds in flight.

I was asked during the fifth week if I had any relatives that I’d like to be stationed with. My brother had been long  in his Navy life by then and thinking it would be great to reunite,I asked for being stationed with him.

It is really funny how parts of us never grow up. I still reach back at those days in the bunk bed-my big ship heading out the channel,me hanging out the window watching to be sure the coast is clear. My mobile home is long enough to make it a challenge to steer clear-I sometimes feel like making the chugging noises of the engines,but usually don’t.

I wonder what it might have been. Once I boarded the USS Vulcan AR-5 my eighteen your old soul felt like it was already in heaven-I could not believe I was going to be living on this ship.

It was all so perfect-except my brother.

I was given some exams the first few days aboard. It was a process they had to determine what were capable of doing. One of the tests showed an aptitudefor something in the Navy’s interest and I was offered a chance to advance quicker than usual-I was offered some college time in exchange for my time,which would have been 10 years (if I remember well enough) and I would be made an Ensign-or what ever the bottom of the officer chain was.

I was thrilled-but my brother saw to it quickly that I was destroyed. He mocked the offer saying it was bull shit-and made every effort to keep me thinking that.

I know,looking back at it now,my brother was jealous-him having 8 or 9 years in and all he did was run the ships laundry and I show up and fresh from boots they offer me this program.

40 years is a long time ago. I met somebody once that said they went to Woodstock and the only thing they remember was Jimi Hendrix played early in the morning on the last day and he didn’t care because it was miserable from the earlier rain-and mud and being hungry.

I remember more. I remember how cool every inch of it was….back in Camp Moffitt there was a tunnel we frequently marched through and there was full time order to sing ‘Anchors Away’-the echos of our voices and the tromping of our feet measuring cadence sent chills up my spine. Everywhere we went we went as equal and uniform as the other man. There were no high school cliques-there were no social class divisions,we all were the same. I remember the walk from our barracks to the mess hall-we were allowed to do it every morning as long as we walked in pairs,just about the only time we did not march. It was always 0410 and the lights would burn through the fog and it was such an interesting feeling knowing that in each barracks we passed the same thing was going on as in the barracks we just left.

40 years! It always seem like just yesterday!

things that happen-and you wonder why

shands hospital

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

Somewhere in life there began a phrase that said something like…”things that make you go hmmm”!

I don’t know where that came from-I don’t even know how I am going to write tonight. I am tired-I am stressed-and I usually do not write at night,mornings are when my thoughts are fresh. But-for a while,my mornings are taking a different direction.

In the photograph I had no idea back in the 1980’s that when I drove the tractor trailer that delivered the steel beams that actually shown in this would mean much to me. Many years later-while visiting the VA Hospital across the highway,I took this photograph. I had no idea that I’d be using it like I am tonight.

I never realized-or more less thought about it,that these beams form an atrium at the children’s section of Shands Hospital,the teaching hospital at the University of Florida. I never even knew these beams and glass connect the floors in a rather unique way-and never knew that you could see the atrium from up on the third floor. I never knew any of this would mean anything much to me-other than I will probably die with out too many of my family knowing I helped build this section of the hospital. I never knew that one day I be spending many-many days looking out these windows.

My children,my son and his wife,delivered a four pound little boy this week. He was almost six weeks before his time. He looks like a small roast with bread-sticks for arms and legs. His feet are about the size of my thumb. His hands a bit smaller than the diameter of a quarter. He was born with complications-and not even one day on the earth,he is needing surgery-and once that was completed,he was moved to Shands-being born in a second hospital. He is in this Plexiglas box-two tubes coming from his face,one from his mouth and another from his nose. Tiny little EKG patches with tiny wires come off of his body. He is as hooked up as many old veteran at the VA across the highway.

My son brought his wife home-she too is recuperating from her surgery,and the baby boy is alone but surrounded by ten or maybe more other little boys and girls like him and a truly sweet nursing staff. I can’t stand it that he is alone-so I have taken the days to sit with him.

My first day they brought in a little one-even smaller than him. I wear sunglasses all the time-night or day…so they might of thought I was napping,or just didn’t know I could hear them saying…”the mother is in detox”. The baby was gone this morning-and I know he was not moved on to the advanced level of ICU for the stronger babies.

Last night I received a call from my sons wife. Our little boy is not only entering this world with internal complications,he also has Down Syndrome.

This morning I spent my third day sitting with this little guy. The only way to touch him is to put your hands through these two port-holes. I figure that he needs touch. His little fingers close on my index finger-I am hopeful he can feel the love.

It is interesting to me. I am a 58 year old depressed human male. I suffer anxiety-and am tormented when ever I am in a large building. I recently my own self went through a detox…mine from a prescribed medicine,but the thought runs through my mind as my eyes take in the surroundings. These teeny tiny babies-fresh from the womb,yet too early and too fragile and so small-and pure. And then there is this world-and the way life is,and how it goes…how a mother of one of these could abuse drugs while trying to grow a newborn baby inside of her? How could I have done the same-or just about the same? I was once a baby-and that keeps tracking in my mind as why? Why does this happen? Why can God not change it around-take the ones of us who did so wrong to our bodies…and let these little things have a chance,a better chance!

And dang if it didn’t take just our little one to bring me into this place. The nursing staff are genuine and welcoming…they gave me a chair,and I have sat there for eight hours each day looking and praying and meditating on this scene around me. Oh woe is me that I woe is me!

Maybe this little guy and I are going to heal together. He damned sure got me started in something-I am not sure yet where it is going to go. It’s funny how God uses things…it’s funny,yet so sad-but yes,God is using this little creature in my heart.

Peace

depression and XANAX and depression and XANAX and depression and…

right turn

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

 

Last week I wrote about the problem I have been having with cleaning my system of the anti-anxiety medicine known as ‘alprazolam’-which is a swift name for XANAX.

I had requested the medicine to help me fly across country and the Pacific Ocean to visit my son in Hawaii.

I needed something to help settle my nerves and ease the anxiety-I am phobic in public places and needed something to keep me calm during the 14 hours across-and what turned out to be 40 hours on my return trip.

I got hooked. I did not realize it at first-but truth is,I got hooked.

I managed to turn a 30 day supply into 60,this by splitting the pills in two.

I returned to Florida and eventually ran out of the first supply. I went a while with out them-and got severely sick,not knowing it was withdrawal’s.

Over the weeks I got to thinking about the pills-they did have a calming effect. To be honest-after drinking a couple of beers they even made me feel euphoric. Iasked for another prescription of them. This time I recieved two 30 day supplies-divided in two-that made 120 days.

I did not know I had swiftly become attached to the little oval pills. Okay-attached is a polite way to say addicted-the feeling they gave me was the deception!

I began doing things that were harmful to my body-and would eventually turn harmful to my family. I was sure to turn up dead somewhere…and I doubt if the position my death would be in would be one I’d want anybody to remember me by. This medicine was making me more ill than I am-it provoked a part of me that I have wrestled with to kill from my life instead.

I know what addiction is. I lived through it in a number of ways-I still have a mindset to do a strong drug. Sometimes heroin crosses my mind. Gladly I can say-I have no idea where to get any…and gladly,while sober,I can catch those whims and put them to rest. I know what addiction is.

The last few weeks have been miserable. I said in my last writing that cocaine was not even slightly as hard to kick as this prescription drug has been. My body has reeled from the first weeks pain-the following weeks pain and nausea and the following weeks pain of not being calm and instead being on edge all the time. It seems like a black cloud has grown over my head-destined to follow me from now on. I cannot stay upright-and want to hide in the safety of my bed and covers. I am having a hard time keeping my breath-the stress has caused me to breath heavy as if I have just climbed a mountain trail.

I guess clinically-anxiety and depression are two sorts of illness. I know the difference between the two-as far as how they make me feel. The anxiety is combined with the voices of Zim that constantly nag at me-”you don’t want to go in there” or “I would’nt do that if I were you”! There is a tension that follows-my body is a jumble of nerves when ever I enter a crowded building.

Depression is physically painful. My shoulders and arms feel it first-the stiffness and aches and a headache. I feel that this morning…along with anxiety. Double jeoperdy! The pain can also drag you to bed-the fear from it pulls the blankets up further.

I want to get out of here and walk. My mind feels more at ease whenever I do something physical-it seems the excersize does something to push the blood around to places it normally misses. My mind says that is healthier than taking a drug….my body seems to be the anchor. I cannot get up to take the first step.

I wish things could just go away! The peace of thinking about a time or place where there is nothing but laying back and looking at the sky and the quiet of silence to get in your way. That peace is on my mind all the time.

But-it is not there….it is always something in this life that continues to cause urgent fears and constant trauma’s. They just seem to linger,don’t they?

As the time goes longer away from the morning I dumped the XANAX I am feeling more and more normal-unusual to think of an over anxious depression prone individual as feeling normal. But,there is a normal. I have been waking again before dawn. I have been enjoying the clearness of the early morning,feeling the chill of  dawn-the quiet of the darkness and the eventual sound of the mornings first bird sounds,all a part of my favorite time of day. I started loosing this pleasure by sleeping to all parts of the morning-soundly,and all because of the medicine. That was a small part of why I dumped it. The large part is what it was making me do! It deadened my motivation-and seemed to erase my spirit,although I tried to fake it around those who know me,and even perhaps to myself. That is what drugs do to you-they make you feel dead.

I feel like an old wound up watch-too wound up and the gears and springs  are locked! I am hopeful this is a short term sensation that will eventually go away. I doubt it will be completely gone-but at least as less than it is this morning,and has been the last few days. I think this is more of the drug leaving my system.

It amazes me-it has always amazed me…we who self medicate-those of us who have trusted people with names like ‘Spook’ or ‘Stank’ to provide us with a 90 dollar bag with unknown compounds called something exotic! We have never hesitated to put the contents on a mirror or in a glass tube or in a dirty needle and in our systems….and the ‘normal’ world of people trust the pharmacy! And those drugs are just as bad!!

Which is better?

Alprazolam aka XANAX

reflections in window at Waikiki

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

 

 

 

 

I was introduced to Alprazolam aka XANAX at my own request. My trip to Hawaii earlier in the Spring was going to be wonderful-but with my anxieties about crowded places and public restrooms….I needed something to help on the trip!

I was NOT told much about the drug-only real thing was “before you get on the flight-take one,and you will sleep the entire way”! I was not told the drug is addictive…and should not be used to treat folks who have had previous drug addictions or signs of alcohol abuse. I am guilty of both-a cocaine habit in the 1980’s and a methadrine (crystal-meth) in the early 1990’s qualifies me for one. Alcohol has seemed to be a long going battle…so,still guilty!

I also was not told it is only meant for short term use-suggested treatment is limited to TWO WEEKS!!! My first supply was meant to be a 30 day supply-I cut them in two,so it was 60 days for me! I had become addicted with out realizing.

The med’s lasted me through my trip and through the art exhibit I became involved in-many people,and the need to enter many buildings,it all became easy. It was even remarked by one of the art committee members….”you seem so different this year” ! I liked the way they made me feel and requested more-this time around I received a double 30 day supply (a prescription for 30 plus a refill)…that equates into 120 days! That by splitting them.

What I was NOT told….the drug has a residual effect! In other words-it is in your system as a time release type drug-so each day little specks of it work to keep you lethargic….LONG AFTER YOU QUIT TAKING IT!

I was NOT told the drug has a hypnotic effect. I was NOT told that if I quit I would experience withdrawls!

I did quit! I felt the need about two weeks ago. I dumped the entire bottle-and sent message to the doctor at the VA….do NOT refill this medicine.

The WITHDRAWLS??

The pills got dumped on a Thursday-the following Saturday I woke from such a nightmare …as a matter of fact-the nightmare was horrible!

I tried to ‘produce’ that morning-but my body got sicker as minutes went by. I found myself laid out on the floor for  most of the day,only getting up to go to the toilet-it effected my gut too.

That has been nearly two weeks ago! I am STILL suffering! Part of what made me quit the drug was sleep! That was the answer it gave me…sleep,sleep more-sleep a lot! I would rather be dead than useless,and useless I became.

Another thing the drug did to me-and the major reason I decided enough was enough…the euphoric feeling of-well,it enhanced my drinking! I wanted to drink everyday-because the drinking brought on thoughts of DAMAGE CONTROL…and DAMAGE CONTROL is seriously dangerous in my life-because I use it to put myself in harms way. To be hurt! To be beat up! To be DEAD!

Hmmm,funny thing-they DID NOT tell me the ‘medicine’ urges desire to kill ones self! Medicine? A help-a health treatment? Suicide? Yes…it was making me feel like doing things I did back some years ago-it made me want to get hurt!

I’m still trying to see through the muck of it! I dumped them two weeks ago and still cannot get it out of my system.

I finally decided to read up on this stuff! First-I only knew it as Alprazolam-I did not know it was XANAX!

I was stunned by what I read-and wondered why these effects were not explained to me more clearly. Why was I not asked if I had prior drug use? Or…did I ever want to kill myself? Or-do I drink? I actually remember being told-a quick beer would hasten the sleepy feeling-try one before I get on the plane! And…there was never a mention that this drug remains-and continues to work in your system long after you quit it.

 By the way-if you are curious,there is also information that states the medicine is only intended for short term use! I am not sure what length short term use is…but total my prescriptions and take the fact I split the pills….that would give me 240 days of use,that could give me 120 days to make up for,one-third of one year!

I am ashamed I did this to myself! Indeed-the intent was reasonable…I am afraid of public places,I have phobic reactions in restrooms-and I did not relish the thought of being on an airplane for nearly six hours! Yes…I asked for it. But never again.

My shame is that I wanted to use a drug to mask my fears. It is contrary to what I stood for several years ago….the answer of drugging ones self to hide the past. I thought that because it was a medicine it would be different. I had a one year long affair with COCAINE….and it was EASIER to kick!

And one last note-try the following link to discover how-and that,this drug is used in veterinarian use as well…seems we are treated like dogs after all !!

http://www.veterinarypartner.com/Content.plx?P=A&A=2581&S=1&SourceID=52

how big can a lie be-how long will a lie live?

me at schaaf studio

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

In 1969 someone decided to tell a lie. I will never know the full context of the lie-even though the lie was about me.

The lie was meant to serve a purpose-I suppose,but it was not to advance me, nor was it ever over.

My entire life since that lie was spoken has been effected.

I suppose the way the lie was meant to be rid of me. My brother was the one who used the lie to do that-I will never know how it all came to be. I have paid for the length of the lie to this day.

I had once promised that I would quit writing this journal of my life. I keep thinking I’ve told as much as I can-there is no more. I keep finding out that I am wrong.

My mother telephoned me the other day. Her life too has been effected by the lie-and who knows what part of the story she has right? I don’t think any of it…I know for certain-she knows none of the truth.

She was crying when she phoned. That broke me,hearing an 85 year old woman cry like that-begging me for forgiveness….but for all the wrong things. The part where the lie came from was not mentioned. I was to forgive nothings…nothings being things I had no knowledge of-nor made a difference because they had nothing to do with what happened in the Navy and what it was my brother did to make that happen. The lie.

I’ve tried to explain as much as I could-writing this! I was a kid 17 years old growing up in the 50’s and 60’s-the Ozzie and Harriet years of gentle and comfortable homes. 

The Viet Nam war was going on-I chose to enlist in the Navy. They placed me in a reserve program because of my age, but after my 18th birthday I took off for boot camp.

All life was not like the one Ozzie and Harriet played on television. Theirs was perfection made by telling story’s-on the screen that was pretend. Over the years I’ve learned to hate pretend…let us pretend this never happened.

I listened to my mother cry-she kept going on and on about a photo album-photo’s of the brother who made up the lie that changed the course of my life. I don’t even know anything about the album-it was the first I knew I was believed to have taken from our family home. No mention of what had happened to me?

To anybody else I suppose all of this sounds trivial-and what does this have to do with anything about a lie? It just adds to part of the hurt.

The other day I wrote and told about a ‘dung beetle’ and how it makes its whole life about grabbing feces and rolling a huge ball of it to a burrow it eventually makes. We watched one while at the beach a few weeks ago-as it rolled its prize the piece kept collecting grains of sand and got larger and larger. That is what the lie has done in my life-it has grown larger and larger.

It was just a photo album-and I never knew it was another of the items I have been suspect of removing from the home. I’ve never taken anything-but somehow it turns to me when something is missing. Hearing about it being found and then learning I was guilty again.

Anyone is free to make a judgement on me. They can call me a looser. Consider me shit. It does not matter. The lie in 1969 has grown so much around me that I do not care anymore. It is like a callous.

I know none of this makes sense to anyone else but me! I woke up this morning after a typical violent dream. I have always had frequent dreams-nightmares about being incarcerated. As usual-as always my waking up took me back to that night in barracks D. Step by step in my memory I can go through the entire day. Inch by inch-and every mile since then. The morning dawn the day of the rapes the officer that saw me told me to “get used to it”! And this morning when I woke from being harassed in my sleep by the memory-I woke to it anyway.

I have never gotten used to it.

I wish I could explain what this has done to alter my mental health over the years. This New Years Eve at 0200 it will be 40 years…22 hours before the partys all scream “happy new year”-I will have already begun the long process of living the silent way the damage had taken over.

I hate it that our lives are coming to an end this way. My father died a few years ago-he died never knowing the truth,he never knew what really happened and who I really was. My mother will never know the truth.

I saw a bumper sticker once when I was a trucker-the only bumper sticker I ever took time to memorize. It read:  ”When I die I want to go peacefully in my sleep like Grandpa did…not kicking and screaming like the passengers in his car”.

I wish when we die it would be that easy-to be able to take those who we love with us so God can show them what really was…and what was not!

Oh well…it was just a bumper sticker!

Military Sexual Trauma-Veterans Administration in-patient treatment facilities

MILITARY SEXUAL TRAUMA / SEXUAL TRAUMA RESIDENTIAL TREATMENT RESOURCES   INFO UPDATED MAY 2009

This list consists of programs identifying themselves as providing MST or sexual trauma-specific treatment in a residential or inpatient setting. Only programs open and actively accepting referrals are included, such that programs under development are not listed. Programs range from those solely dedicated to the treatment of sexual trauma; to those with a special track emphasizing the treatment of sexual trauma; to those with two or more staff members with expertise in sexual trauma who, in the context of a larger program not focused on sexual trauma, provide treatment targeting this issue. More detailed information about each program is provided on the pages following this summary list.

VISN 1 VA Boston HCS/Jamaica Plain Campus, Boston, MA: Women Veterans’ Therapeutic Transitional Residence Program VA Boston HCS/Brockton Campus, Brockton, MA: Women’s Integrated Treatment & Recovery Program

VISN 2 VA Western New York HCS/Batavia Campus, Batavia, NY: Women Veterans’ Residential Program

VISN 3 VA New Jersey HCS, Lyons, NY: Women’s Military Sexual Trauma Residential Program

VISN 5 VA Maryland HCS/Baltimore Division, Baltimore, MD: Dual Diagnosis PTSD/Substance Abuse PRRTP

VISN 7 Augusta VAMC, Augusta, GA: MST Clinic & Domiciliary Residential Rehabilitation and Treatment Program

VISN 8 Bay Pines VAHCS, Bay Pines, FL: Center for Sexual Trauma Services

VISN 10 Cincinnati VAMC, Cincinnati, OH: Residential PTSD Program VISN 12 Clement J. Zablocki VAMC, Milwaukee, WI: Rehabilitation and Transition Unit – Trauma Track North Chicago VAMC, North Chicago, IL: Stress Disorder Treatment Unit

VISN 15 VA Eastern Kansas HCS/Topeka Division, Topeka, KS: Stress Disorder Treatment Program

VISN 17 Central Texas Veterans HCS, Temple, TX: Women’s Trauma Recovery Center

VISN 21 VA Palo Alto HCS/Menlo Park Division, Menlo Park, CA: Women’s Trauma Recovery Program

VISN 22 VA Long Beach Healthcare System, Long Beach, CA: “Renew” & “Bridges”

 Please see the pages that follow for more detailed information about each program.

 VISN 1 Facility: VA Boston HCS/Jamaica Plain Campus (Boston, MA) Type of program: PTSD Transitional Residence Program name: Women Veterans’ Therapeutic Transitional Residence Program (TRUST House) Phase of treatment targeted: Flexible, ranges from stabilization and skill-development to trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Veterans receive therapy through the Boston Women’s Stress Disorder Treatment Team, a clinic with an explicit emphasis on treating sexual trauma. TR staff also have expertise in this area. Notable admission criteria: Prefer 90 days sobriety; able to function independently; ability to work 20 hours/week; prefer 60 days without suicidal behavior. Some criteria are flexible depending on the individual case. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Ask for commitment of at least 3 months though prefer veterans to stay for a year; maximum stay is 18 months. Contact information: Erica Sharkansky, PhD – (857) 364 – 4925; erica.sharkansky@va.gov Facility: VA Boston Healthcare System, Brockton Campus (Brockton, MA) Type of program: Women’s Residential Program Program name: Women’s Integrated Treatment & Recovery Program Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on integrated treatment of substance abuse and trauma; group therapy focuses on skills building for maintaining abstinence and managing PTSD symptoms. MST-specific treatment available: Individual therapy focused on processing sexually traumatic experiences using a CPT model with and without exposure. Staff members have expertise in the area of sexual trauma. Notable admission criteria: Commitment to abstinence; medically stable; linked to outpatient care and have a discharge plan; no acute psychotic symptoms, suicidal or homicidal ideation. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions with 8-week length of stay which may be extended to 90 days under certain circumstances, if for example, a veteran awaiting admission to a subsequent program needs to meet criteria for a length of sobriety greater than 56 days or is awaiting housing. Contact information: Sharon L. Baker, Ph.D. – (774) 826-1312; sharon.baker3@va.gov

VISN 2: Facility: VA Western New York HCS/Batavia Campus (Batavia, NY) Type of program: Women’s Residential Program Program name: Women Veterans’ Residential Program Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on trauma processing as well as intensive self-regulatory and interpersonal skill development. MST-specific treatment available: Individual and group therapy focused on processing sexually traumatic experiences. Staff members have expertise in the area of sexual trauma. Currently have mixed-trauma cohorts, though at times cohorts end up being entirely composed of veterans with sexual trauma histories. Notable admission criteria: 30 days sobriety; medically stable; linked to outpatient care and have a discharge plan; no acute suicidal or homicidal ideation. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Utilize a cohort system with a 10 week length of stay. If the cohort has openings, short-term stays of one to two weeks are possible for veterans wishing to focus on skill-building and supportive therapy. Contact information: Terri Julian, Ph.D. – (585) 297-1205; terri.julian@va.gov VISN 3: Facility: VA New Jersey HCS, Lyons, NJ Type of program: MST Residential Treatment Program Program name: Women’s Treatment Unit Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on skill building and trauma processing. Group treatment is central with individual psychotherapy for processing of traumatic material. PE and CPT available. MST-specific treatment available: Program as a whole is devoted to MST treatment. Childhood trauma, combat-related PTSD, and SUD also addressed as needed. Admission criteria: No psychotic symptoms; Not in need of detox from drugs or alcohol; ability to work intensively in group format; no recent violent behavior; cannot present as danger to self or others; must be able to manage own medications; must be medically stable. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Average length of stay 6-8 weeks Contact information: Suzanne Loftus, Psy.D. – (908) 647-0180 ext 5896

VISN 5 Facility: VA Maryland HCS/Baltimore Division (Baltimore, MD) Type of program: Psychosocial Residential Rehabilitation Treatment Program with Focus on Comorbid PTSD & Substance Use Disorders Program name: Dual Diagnosis PTSD/Substance Abuse PRRTP Phase of treatment targeted: Flexible, ranges from psychoeducation and skill-development to trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Multiple staff members with expertise in treating sexual trauma using empirically supported treatments. Individual and group therapy. Notable admission criteria: PTSD and substance abuse/dependence; prefer 30 days sobriety and that have had at least one significant period of sobriety within the past year; ability to function independently in daily life; psychiatrically and medically stable. Treat both men and women? Yes. Have both mixed and single-sex groups. Women stay in individual rooms with private, non-attached bathrooms. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. 45 – 56 day stay. Contact information: Lorie Morris, Psy.D. — (410) 605-7418; lorie.morris@va.gov

VISN 7 Facility: Augusta VAMC (Augusta, GA) Type of program: MST Clinic in conjunction with Domiciliary Residential Rehabilitation and Treatment Program Program name: MST Clinic & Domiciliary Residential Rehabilitation and Treatment Program Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Veterans receive therapy through the outpatient MST clinic where staff have expertise in the treatment of sexual trauma. Notable admission criteria: No pending legal issues; no physical assaults in past six months; current sobriety; not taking any controlled medications more than two times/day. Treat both men and women? Yes. Women stay in lockable two- to four-person rooms. Some women-only groups, but others are mixed-sex. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Length of stay for up to 120 days. Contact information: Lorraine Braswell, Ph.D. — (706) 733-0188 x7735; lorraine.braswell@va.gov

VISN 8 Facility: Bay Pines VAHCS (Bay Pines, FL) Type of program: MST Residential Program Program name: Center for Sexual Trauma Services, Residential Program Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on trauma work. MST-specific treatment available: Program as a whole is devoted to MST treatment. Patients are assigned a primary therapist who works with them to plan treatment based on individual needs and strengths. Treatment interventions may include Prolonged Exposure, Cognitive Processing Therapy, Skills Training, CBT Group, Therapeutic Recreation, Patient Education and other interventions. Notable admission criteria: History of MST (though can focus on any sexual trauma while in the program); cannot present a danger to self or others and must be able to manage the residential environment. Treat both men and women? Yes. Roommates are same-sex, but men and women are housed in the same area of the Dom and share the common living areas. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions; variable length of stay based on the individual’s treatment plan. Contact information: Judith Connelly, PsyD. (727) 398-6661, x 7297; Judith.Connelly2@va.gov or Carol O’Brien, Ph.D. – (727) 398-6661 x7381; carol.obrien1@va.gov

 VISN 10 Facility: Cincinnati VAMC (Cincinnati, OH) Type of program: PTSD Day Hospital with lodging Program name: Residential PTSD Program Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Most staff have expertise in sexual trauma. Individual and group treatment; veterans working on sexual trauma get one extra individual therapy session a week as needed. Notable admission criteria: PTSD; 30 days sobriety (will, however, take veterans on benzodiazepines and/or methadone); no active mania or psychosis; no medical or legal issues; no registered sex offenders; able to tolerate group treatment and share trauma accounts in individual therapy. Treat both men and women? Yes. Men and women with separate living areas but eat in the cafeteria together. No mixed-sex therapy groups. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Cohort admissions. Length of stay of 7 weeks. Contact information: For referrals, Jennifer Lewis – (513) 861-3100 x3310; jennifer.lewis2@va.gov

VISN 12 Facility: Clement J. Zablocki VAMC (Milwaukee, WI) Type of program: PTSD DOM Program name: Rehabilitation and Transition Unit – Trauma Track Phase of treatment targeted: Flexible, depends upon veterans’ previous trauma work. MST-specific treatment available: Staff with expertise in sexual trauma by virtue of the high prevalence of it in the program. Veterans attend general programming but individual and group treatment would be focused on the sexual trauma. Notable admission criteria: 30 days sobriety; need to be capable of independent living and able to manage living with others. Treat both men and women? Yes. Mixed-sex groups and living arrangements. One all-female support group where all participants have a history of sexual trauma. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Length of stay of 6-9 months. Contact information: For referrals, Katie DeYoung at the Central Intake Unit – (414) 384-2000 x 41986. For more information, Vickie Wiese, Ph.D. — x 42367; vickie.wiese@va.gov Facility: North Chicago VAMC (North Chicago, IL) Type of program: PTSD Residential Rehabilitation Program Program name: Stress Disorder Treatment Unit Phase of treatment targeted: Flexible, from skills building to trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Individual therapy; clinicians have developed expertise in working with MST, given the number of sexual trauma cases they tend to see. Notable admission criteria: Combat-related PTSD (combat broadly defined); SC for PTSD; minimum 30 days sobriety; medically stable; no active suicidal ideation in the past 60 days; admission can’t be court-related; must be in outpatient treatment; prefer no benzodiazepines or anti-psychotic medications. Current PTSD symptoms must be too severe to be treated on an outpatient basis. Treat both men and women? Yes. Women with private room, but men and women participate in groups together. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Length of stay varies but average is around 35 days. Contact information: Karen Paddock – (847) 688-1900 x 83312; karen.paddock@va.gov

 VISN 15 Facility: VA Eastern Kansas HCS/Topeka Division (Topeka, KS) Type of program: Specialized Inpatient PTSD Unit Program name: Stress Disorder Treatment Program Phase of treatment targeted: Ranges from skill building to trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Though have ongoing admissions, try to cluster individuals with sexual trauma-related issues into “mini-cohorts.” Staff with training in treatment of sexual trauma. Notable admission criteria: 30 days sobriety; military trauma of some type; treatment can’t be court-ordered; no acute suicidal or homicidal ideation; no acute psychosis. Treat both men and women? Yes, but see relatively few women. Women and men are potentially, but not necessarily, in the same cohort. They participate in psychoeducational groups together but decisions about participation in trauma processing groups together are made on a case by case basis, depending on the size of the female mini-cohort. Women room together as appropriate but typically have private rooms with their own bathroom. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. Length of stay of 7 weeks. Contact information: For referrals, Terry Falck, M.A. – (785) 350-3111 x 52139; for more information, Jonathan Farrell-Higgins, Ph.D. – x 52118; jonathan.farrell-higgins@va.gov

VISN 17 Facility: Central Texas Veterans HCS (Temple, TX) Type of program: MST Residential Treatment Program Program name: Women’s Trauma Recovery Center Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Program as a whole is devoted to MST treatment. Notable admission criteria: History of sexual assault or attempted sexual assault while in military (for recently deployed women, sexual harassment only with a history of other military trauma is acceptable); no substance abuse for past 30 days; no suicidal or para-suicidal behavior for past 30 days; no acute inpatient psychiatric admission for past 30 days; no uncontrolled mania or psychosis; not significant organic impairment; no ongoing criminal or violent behavior. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Cohort admissions. Length of stay of 7 weeks. Contact information: Delicia Mclean, Ph.D. – (254) 743-1720; delicia.mclean@va.gov

VISN 21 Facility: VA Palo Alto HCS/Menlo Park Division (Menlo Park, CA) Type of program: PTSD Residential Program Program name: Women’s Trauma Recovery Program (WTRP) Phase of treatment targeted: Two tracks: 1) trauma processing; and 2) intensive skills building. MST-specific treatment available: Staff with expertise in the treatment of sexual trauma, particularly given the high prevalence of sexual trauma among veterans in the program. Notable admission criteria: Alcohol and illegal substance free for 5 days and off of benzodiazepines; problems are primarily due to PTSD; no active psychosis; no unresolved legal issues; no major medical problems that will interfere with participation in program. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Rolling admissions. 60 day to 90 day length of stay. Contact information: Kristen Marchak, LSW, Admissions Coordinator – (650) 493-5000 x 24692, kristen.marchak2@va.gov , Tasha Souter, MD – (650) 493-5000 x23158; tasha.souter@va.gov; Dorene Loew, PhD – (650) 493-5000 x23237; dorene.loew@va.gov

VISN 22 Facility: VA Long Beach Healthcare System (Long Beach, CA) Type of program: Sexual Trauma Residential Program Program name: “Renew”; (for information on “Bridges”, see box on ‘rolling vs cohort admissions’) Phase of treatment targeted: Emphasis on skill development and trauma processing. MST-specific treatment available: Program as a whole is devoted to treatment of sexual trauma. Individual and group treatment. Holistic focus. Notable admission criteria: 6 months sobriety; 6 months without psychiatric hospitalization; 6 months without suicide attempt or self-injury; ability to remain for the duration of the program. Treat both men and women? Women only. Rolling vs cohort admissions & length of program: Cohort admissions. Length of stay of 12 weeks. Also, potential for participation in “Bridges”: 12 week, rolling admissions residential and/or outpatient aftercare program consisting of 12 hours/week of community activity and support groups. Contact information: Lori Katz, PhD (program director) — (562) 826-8000 x4380; lori.katz@va.gov; or Sandy Dee Hoague (program coordinator) — x4820.

the dung beetle…

the dung beetle-hiding its doo

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

 

 

I am not a specialist in entomology so I do not know the proper scientific name for this beetle-but,it is easy to just call them dung beetles!

To give you the best layman’s education about this creature is that they locate a mound of poop somewhere and take on the job to dice it up into smaller pieces-although at times three times larger than the beetle itself. They roll this chunk of poop-sometimes several yards away from the original pile and they ’sink’ it into a burrow they build on site.

I don’t know what regions these beetles thrive in-I know here in Florida they do offer a short term moment of entertainment-the whole idea of hoarding  chunks of poop is comical-just as watching these determined little bugs work the things along.

Let me tell you how I came across this guy.

This past weekend I was invited to guest at a beach house-a very high class celebrity class home. The home was built right on the Atlantic shore near St.Augustine Florida. This type of real estate is not cheap-the entire street my hosts had built on was wall to wall million dollar homes. Right across the street were individual beach access boardwalks. Looking down north or south at the horizon one can see hundreds of these boardwalks to protect the sea oats-all individually costing the homeowners thousands of dollars to construct.

The dung beetle was found at the entrance of one of these boardwalks…an interest note is of all the people that bring their dogs to the beach,and sure enough-the dog poop is obvious…all the while beach goers run and play bare footed risking a plop into a poodle bomb. The dog poop is why the dung beetle is there.

My friend and I stood in awe watching this little guy rolling his take along. Miniature sand dunes prevented him a speedy job of ease-he worked his little legs off shoving this lump up and over the challenging ramp-and as he neared the top the lump would be out of its control and would roll in no direct way to the bottom-just inches away,but mountains to this bug,and sometimes in the direction he just worked so hard to keep behind him.

Just to give you a sense of what I am talking about-the dung beetles footprints begin at the lower left corner of the photograph and and you can see the beetle in the center of the photo-the dark dot,and laying barely visible next to him is the lump of poop-slightly hidden and rather sandy- he worked so hard to move there.

A couple walked up…”what are you looking at”?  was the question. “A poop beetle rolling a turd” was our response. They began to watch too-laughing as the beetle the lump at the top of its dune and the lump rolled away from its owner….ooohs and ahhhs and giggles were made. Another couple walks up-understand,we are standing at the entrance of the boardwalk that leads to the beach,so traffic was picking up!

“What is it…what are you looking at”? the new couple asked.  ” A beetle rolling along a big piece of poop” was our groups reply. There we were-six grown adult people-standing there watching the feats of this determined bug.

I started to take in the surroundings-I’ve seen hundreds of these guys in action. That’s why there’s no worry about stepping in dog poop in at my place-nature takes care of everything in simple ways. Here we were-my pal and I guests in our beach front home,but these couples had spent quite a sum to rent one of these homes for the week-one couple said they were from Maryland and never saw such a beetle.

I couldn’t help pointing out the folly in the whole scene. I said something about how funny it was that folks desire to come to the ocean because it is a beautiful place and unique to many who have no access to the shore…and I said it is so funny that here we were surrounded by millions of dollars in homes-pointing out the expense it is to come to the beach-and here we were,standing just yards away from the ocean watching a beetle roll this piece of poop.

Well…the folks didn’t wish to be a part of the humor-so they hurried along up the ramp along the boardwalk to the beach. If only their neighbors back home were to hear of the beetle.

My pal and I stood watching for a while longer-laughing about the truth of what I just said. Interesting-we as humans desire the luxury of wealth and to be able to have a house with porches facing the ocean view…and here is this beetle just as close to the shore as we were. All it cared about was getting that lump of poop to a safe spot-I suppose for a source of food,what else could a dung beetle want? It did not give one blink of an eyes concern for the wealth that surrounded it. It was not even concerned with us watching it.

That thing stuck in my head for most of the day. It reminded me of the monk I once met back in the 70’s at a rock festival of sorts. We were all around a camp fire drinking and talking and I mentioned I owned five acres just walking distance from where we were sitting. The monk said I owned nothing-I argued that I did,but he insisted that I owned nothing. Later that night I stepped off into the woods to pee-and I was standing there looking up at the stars and out of the darkness came this voice…he said that I owned all of those stars. It was the monk I argued with before-he told me there was no way to physically own anything. He said everything was spiritually mine-no matter where I was or what I was seeing…all of that belonged to me. He assured me I did not own five acres-I only owned what I see.

There is a proverb in the bible (Proverbs 30:24-28) that says there are four things which are little upon the earth,but the are exceeding wise-they  are the ant,the locust and a spider,along with a small critter like a badger.

Thinking about that beetle and all those riches that surrounded us consumed me. I remember those beaches from back in the 1970’s when we could drive along the coastal highway and just choose a spot to go through the sea oaks (another part of foilage-no longer there) and have a great private spot to enjoy the surf. You could drive all the distance from St.Augustine down to Daytona Beach-and barely miss seeing the ocean from your car. Not any more.

Who is the richest? Who can build the biggest and better-and forget the sea oaks?

The dung beetle! His life is the richest!

Fathers Day 1970

IMG_0685

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

This is an old story to some, but an always story to me.

Today is Fathers Day. It was 39 years ago today that I came to live in Florida. There was no plan to it-the night before I had no idea I would be standing hundreds of miles from where I was at the moment.

I always maintain that it was angels that took over the operation of my life that night-39 years ago. The day before I had been interrogated by detectives-I fear I was going to jail. I was guilty of being strong-armed into stealing for another employee at a department store we worked at.

It was easy for someone to strong-arm me. I had been taught the lessons of how to avoid pain while in barracks D-there I was strong-armed into doing myriad sickening things.

I know the detectives promised I was going to jail. The only comfort they gave me was to turn in the other man and things would go easier for me.

All I could see was barracks D. Jail would have sealed my fate-I would have been broken more there.

The detectives gave me the weekend to think about it.

I don’t even know how I ended up at the going away party. I did not even know the fellow the party was for-his purpose for being in my life  lasted less than 24 hours. His part was facilitated by the angels.

It was the days of blue highways. Interstate 95 was hardly existent between Richmond and South Carolina so he drove us through what are now called the back roads-once upon a time the real highway.

I can’t even really explain how I got the ride-that is why my only explaination is because of the angels. We reached Jacksonville right after daylight. By this point it had already been explained to me that my driver was picking up some cousins and they were going to a beach camp their family owned-I was not invited,but the offer of a ride further south was offered.

They took me from Jacksonville to Gainesville-from there they cut east towards the beach. They dropped me off at the intersection-the only harbor was a cemetery tucked in behind a tall white wall hidden with ivy and shrubs.

I spent my first day in Florida in a Jewish cemetery-Fathers Day 1970.

I want to explain-I gained nothing by what was stolen back home. Another person recognized that I could be controlled-and that person used me to steal for him. Stealing is not something I wanted to do-I was forced with my arm twisted behind my back to swipe money from cash boxes. I had only three months before been released from duty in the Navy-my last two months were spent in a detention barracks-and there I became a victim and spent nearly all of that time with my arm twisted behind my back and forced to do things I never wanted to do.

The cemetery was a place of peace!

My instinct had me call a man I knew from home-he had been kind to me in the past and some how I knew I could trust him. The phone call was the grace shown by angels-my friend had a brother that lived in a small town near where I was…I had a place to go.

The evening of Fathers Day I saw the sunset standing in that graveyard. Later that night my friends brother came and rescued me. He took me to the town of Micanopy. In the dark it was not easy to see how small the place really was-but coming from Washington DC the day before this town was asleep at 9 PM.

I woke the following day to the sounds of the street in front of the building where I had slept. The peacefulness of the sounds and the smells-and the view of a small quaint town was there waiting.

I met people there that influenced me the rest of my life. Peaceful good people. I know it was angels that led me here.

Today is my day to visit the cemetery. I’ve gone there almost every year-last year I could not gain entry,this year I have the combination for the lock…39 years ago it was open to all-but time has changed everything.

I never want to loose grasp of what happened-and why everything is the way it is. To spend my first day of the beginning of my new life in the graveyard was majestic in its doing-the way the angels arranged that lesson. To awake the following day in the surroundings that greeted me-all of that finely orchestrated in a heavenly way to save me from what could have been if I returned to talk to the detectives.

catching up…

IMG_0679

Originally uploaded by jayfherron

The past two months have been blank…then I return home to what should have been a time of relaxation did not work out as such-I became fatigued on my return flight from Hawaii. That wore me down where I got sick-and stayed sick and tired for a number of weeks.
Then the computer died-or,perhaps,caught that I was tired and it bogged up. That meant a call to the Dell Indian who vacuumed the thing bone dry removing with it my photographs and certain bookmarks and my will to want to!

I have not lost the motivation to write. I have come to a point where writing my story has got to come to an end somewhere-I said this before…this is not really meant to be about me-although what happened to me is important for others to understand. In basics-the reader just needs to read back and the whole story is there. Also ,what I am saying here seems to have had influence on others-so I don’t want to end it-writing! I would like to transform into hopefully helping other veterans-survivors of MST to approach the long battle to get what is rightfully belongs to them…admission-acknowledgment from the military that you were indeed victimized on their watch.

It would be better to see the attackers convicted. I know that is asking for a little much-but I do feel emotions from having papers saying that MST did occur and that I had no blame in what took place. No blame being because I was in a detention barracks and that I had done nothing to warrant being there.

I’m not an educated person so I don’t have all these powers of a degree and fellowships to give me a boost in becoming an advocate for others. Actually-I’m thankful in some ways that I’m not a degree scholar. I happen to see a hole in the way certain classes of veterans are treated-and perhaps a gap in how a survivor sees themselves as a veteran. I see this from the perspective of a survivor-being a male survivor myself.

What I do see are men in position as advocates-sanctioned by the individual states Veterans Affairs department…uneducated men particularly where the crime of rape and sexual assault is considered.

What I will continue to advocate for is a change in how MST survivors appeal for medical and financial benefits. I will keep shouting the best way I can to hopefully be heard on behalf of change…military sexual trauma -MST (any sexual trauma) is horrific to live with. Sexual attacks change the victim so deeply-fear consumes the survivor.

To send an MST survivor through a process of appealing for compensation where they are required to seek the confidence of a veterans advocate who may not ever understand the details of a rape-is wrong.

The way the system is set up every veteran who has been injured in military service must file the beginning papers for a benefit claim with a Veterans Affairs (BVA) officer in the home county of the veteran. Every veteran! This includes a claim for MST.

For those that do come forward-the veteran who responds to the question of unwanted sexual contact,they most likely would be doing so at a veterans hospital. They rountinely ask the question during a scheduled physical-yet the veteran might find other channels to find a confidential ear.

When the question is answered ‘yes’ there should be an automatic open avenue for the MST survivor to go through. A medical professional should be in place instead of a BVA representative-the MST survivor should be treated with sensitive attention to his or her injury and case.

I was sent to my local BVA representative and he was challenged to confusion as why homosexuals would need to rape each other-he was certain my attackers were blacks…he was nearly dumbfounded when I told him they were not. There were later comments that sounded more like jokes about me. I am angry that someone who suffers from the shame of sexual trauma is subjected to that kind of rudeness and ignorance-and bigotry.

I want to see it different for others. I hope some way comes to lighten up the path to show what trauma this is-and to inspire a change in how MST survivors find healing and hope through a gentler system.

Peace

Memorial Day

This is the view at sunset looking across Pearl Harbor at Ford Island. I am standing at Hickam Air Force Base when the witness of this sky came to be.

I’m battered by a million emotions. I toured the USS Missouri twice-once alone,and then later with my son. Across the bow of this great ship you could see the USS Arizona Memorial. In the Missouri in one of the galleys was a collection of ships-cast out of pot metal,miniatures of the real thing. A young sailor collected them during the war-among them was the USS Vulcan AR-5. Out in the harbor lay the USS Vestal AR-4.

The morning I toured the USS Arizona Memorial,the ride across Pearl Harbor to where she lay-I met a man and his wife,he knew of the USS Vulcan and commented on my shirt and cap that I had worn for the occasion. A photo is in the previous post.

Because I with with my son most of the time I never exactly found the space to be alone with it all. The moment came on the airplane home crossing the Pacific Ocean. Thinking of everything I had seen-and being around so much Navy and military…each morning they blew reveille!

I started crying on the plane. Thankfully it was dark. My headphones and sunglasses hid much of the rest.

I wanted to end this thing-the journal you are reading here…and thinking in many ways the trip to see so much history would bring closure to my own past. Yes,in many private ways-I found peace. I got to be a boy again and explore the ships-even the submarine USS Bowfin,and pretend in my mind that I was back looking at a better time. How crazy is that-so many lost their lives here where I stood? But yet-the polish of the green tiled decks were of the many things that brought back the better times of 1969 and living on the USS Vulcan.

I would have written sooner. The truth is-the flight home lasted nearly 40 hours. Late connections and waiting for different flights. My resistence wore down and by the time I got home I became ill. A shrink at the VA gave me a 30 day supply of Xanax-at my request…this to numb the fear of others and of  large public places. I found a beer here and there made the effect more perfect in that it knocked me out enough I had no care. My need for self hypnosis was covered by the effects of the drug and being somewhat drunk.

I wanted to write today because tomorrow is Memorial Day.

There is a National Cemetery about 60 miles south of here. I know several people there-among them my sons grandfather,a Major of the US Air Force-a former POW kept in a Nazi Stalag until the end of World War Two.

I think looking across Pearl Harbor at Ford Island spoke a lot to me. The impact of what happened in 1941 is disguised by modern bridges and high rise apartments in the distance. But the vision of it is still there in the old buildings that are protected as part of our history. The sky remains the same as does the view across the harbor. It is easy to imagine what that day must have been like.

I need to look at the graves of thousands now and pay my respects.