Agent Orange Letter to the Editor
This is a letter to the editor of the Times Herald Tribune in upstate New York that my grandfather wrote. The number of fast moving cancer-related deaths in my dad's West Point class (and other years that also served in Vietnam) from West Point is disproportionately high, yet the Veterans' Affairs Office refuses to admit they are wrong.
Toll of Agent Orange
Vietnam, a war that will not end. A war that continues to stalk and claim its victims decades after the last shots were fired. A war of rainbow herbicides; significantly, Agent Orange.
Millions of gallons of Agent Orange were sprayed over Vietnam's forests. Ground troops lived and slept in the chemical mist. Ate it in their food and water. They breathed it. Chemical companies producing Agent Orange, revealed that Dioxin, a highly toxic impurity in Agent Orange, was responsible for health problems in their plant workers and animals.
Our government has recognized some health issues related to herbicides. Independent studies have proven other forms of cancer are related to Agent Orange. Denial on this issue exists because of the hundreds of millions of dollars that would have to be paid if the truth were exposed. Veterans and their families continue to suffer the effects of Agent Orange. Our daughter's beloved husband, a Vietnam combat infantry veteran with two tours, succumbed this year to a rapidly spreading cancer. Read the obituaries. You will note the prematurely departed. Many served in Vietnam.
Their names could be added to the Vietnam Memorial Wall.
Casualties of the herbicide that followed them home.
Theodore Nielsen
Highland Falls
The White and Black Uniforms
A few nights ago, Berta (Lindsay's mom) was telling us about her and Bill's visit to the Rose Bowl Parade events. Instead of going to the actual parade, they went to see the marching bands perform. She thought the shows were excellent, but the main thing on Berta's mind were the uniforms (see, Berta was our high school marching band's uniform keeper, so of course she had an opinion of the uniforms). She was particularly excited about one band's uniforms that were black on the right half of the person and white on the left half of the person. Now, Berta went on about their upkeep and how striking they were, but that's not really relevant to the story.
I bring up these uniforms because it's the best way to describe how I'm feeling. It feels like one half of me is completely happy and lucky - I've done a good job on Constellation and was recognized for it, and now I get to move onto a flight project; I got to spend time with family over the holidays and get away from work; I'm dating a great guy who makes me smile a lot; I have a place to live and a warm bed; I mean the list could go on, and I probably should continue listing only the positives. Then the other half is sad and is constantly haunted by images of my dad's last days. Whenever there is a lull - like when I am driving, or trying to fall asleep, or sometimes even a quiet moment at work - my mind reminds me with scenes from the hospital or from the funeral that my dad is no longer with us.
I flip back and forth between these two sides (insert some simile about a marching band pivoting back and forth, switching between the two sides of their white and black uniforms) in a heartbeat. It's a very odd feeling to be utterly happy one moment and wanting to cry out (or punch a wall!) the next. These next few weeks will be rough, so bear with me, and I promise some entertaining stories soon!
