Side B...

When I was growing up the question was not whether or not I would be going to college, the question was which college was I going to attend. According to how my mother tells the story, when my father went to ask for her hand in matrimony her dad asked him how was it that he intended to take care of her if he was just a college student. The back pocket reply was that he would be joining the United States Air Force and come back to marry her once he was able to maintain a household. At the time he was enrolled in college to become a Civil Engineer, but he dropped everything and joined the military to make a career out of it and be able to marry his beautiful bride. In my opinion he made the right choice, if he had not done so I would of never been born.

My mother being the oldest of nine brothers and sisters had already taken to work as a teacher in a small public elementary school in the countryside. She says that sometimes when he would come and visit her while at work, some of the kids would jump out of the classroom window because his white guayabera shirt made him look like a doctor and they thought he was there to administer shots. Both of them had a vision, and in their vision the future looked bright and full of hope. The military life meant that they would have to pick up and go in what almost seemed like a moment's notice, to continue their lives wherever he would be sent to do his job. First Florida, then England, then Arkansas, and Arizona. One by one of us sons and daughters was born throughout that continuous in motion life, where the only common place would be when he was sent back to Puerto Rico in between new duty stations. Sometimes she would be alone, as when he was sent to Guam, and later it was all of us that would be left back while he did his tour in Vietnam. Vietnam, what a scary place to be sent to. Just recently I saw the most amazing three hour show on the National Geographic channel, giving a detailed account for political, military, and human aspect of the Vietnam war. I think I learned more in those three hours than I had in all of my years so far with respect to what really happened in Vietnam. So much was lost, so much was taken, and worse of all so much was never gained back. Almost 60 thousand American soldiers died, and several million Vietnamese soldiers and civilians were also lost. I have such a difficult time wrapping my mind around all that death. The conflict lasted close to 16 years. All of the nations that in any way participated in this devastation are still paying a price one way or another due to their involvement.

Prior to leaving to Vietnam my father bought two audio cassette recorders. I can only imagine that it was a significant financial investment of his part because in those days they were probably considered state of the art. The idea was that instead of sending letters to the family he would send audio cassettes with recorded messages. He took one of the recorders with him when he left, and left the other for us to use to listen and reply to his own sent voice messages. On one side of the audio cassette it would be labeled "Para toda la familia", which translates to "For the entire family." On the other side of the cassette the label read "Para ti solita", which translates as "Just for you" and was meant for my mother's ears only. How cool was that? So, when a tape would arrive from overseas we would all sit down together and listen to his joyful voice tell us some kind of story, ask about each and every one of us, and tell us how much he missed and loved us. Afterwards, my mom would retreat and listen to her side of the tape in private. As the curious and nosy child that I was at the age of five, one day I decided to listen into what he might of had to tell my mom that we were not allowed to hear. It has been a very long time now, my memory is not as clear and I do not remember the details, but one thing I do remember...there was a lot of sadness in his voice. In that particular tape he would talk to her about the horror of never knowing if friends would make it back once they left the base he was working at, how bodies were delivered in truck loads, and although they were not in the middle of all the action, you could never be far enough of it either. On one side of the tape his beautiful happy and loving portrayal of positive thoughts to his children, on the other the ugly sad reality of what it was like to be in such a scary place.

We do that all the time. We shield our children from our pain, our fears, and our sadness. I have spent the last seventeen years of my life doing this almost every day one way or another. I try not to let my boys know how much things really hurt, how scared I am of so much that is happening in my life, and mostly I try not to show my sadness in an effort to keep their spirits high. Is it right of me to do this? Today, while I was at a funeral, I was asked about my sons and how they were doing. I sometimes try to not let it show when I am having a hard time with my older son, but lately the situation has been more frequently than not very painful for me to deal with and a bit of my reality wiggles it's way out of me. It must be more obvious than I thought because I was told that lately I seem more preoccupied and mentally absent from the rest around me. My typical answer is that it is not easy raising teenage boys. My Side B must be playing too loud because others can hear it.

I really try not to, but every once in a while I break down and am not able to control one of those emotions that I fight so hard to keep under check and away from my children. Afterwards I feel guilty for mildly having inflicted my own state of mind on them. It is rare that I do this, but unfortunately I am human too and as strong as I try to be, I just can't always win the battle between smiling and not being able to for a little while. However, most of the time I am and try to be the Side A of the audio cassette that shows the bright side of things. I remember all too clearly how scary it was to hear my father share his Side B and what it did to my mother afterwards. I wonder why love is such a powerful yet draining emotion. It is not easy to always be strong enough to protect the ones we love. However, I am their father so I will try to do my best.

Dad