SelfhelpMagazine

by Tom Shafer

Things had been going well. Katy had the baby, little Bernard Boudreaux. Cute little guy. Happy baby, smiled and laughed a lot.

Rabbi had told them the story of another laughing baby who had an older mom so the little guy's full name was Bernard Isaac Boudreaux. Job ended up calling him, Izzy... When Katy wasn't around that is.

The old restlessness came. Job didn't know why. PTSD, Vietnam veterans have found, can resurface in an instant.

He told Katy he just wanted to do a little fishing but she knew from the look on his face. She let him go but she was frightened this time. It had been nearly a year since the bad times had last come.

Job went to his favorite spot. He made a lot of noise going in to scare the snakes off. He just walked this time and was fishing off the bank, kind of. He forgot to bait his hook.

"Lord, when's this stuff gonna quit?" He said to nobody in particular.

"Yes, Job?" came the answer

"I wasn't talkin' to nobody, this time. Jes' talkin'."

"Wouldn't be using my Name in vain, Job."

"Uh. No, Sir... I mean, Yessir, maybe.... Just one of those bad times. Nuthin don't mean nuthin'."

"Remember the rules, Job? Free will. I won't make you talk. Mind if I just sit here and watch you fish for a minute?"

"Sure. It's your Bayou."

A minute later, Job got a bite. Biggest catfish he'd ever hooked. This one was cagey and a real fighter. It was really too heavy for the line but Job carefully played him and finally netted him. He held up the fish for a second, then let it go."

"Why did you let it go, Job?"

"Respeck, Sir. Jes' respeck. Got to respeck somethin' that big that fights that hard...."

Then Job started laughing. "Hoo wee, that was a good one. Ain't nobody gonna believe ol' Job 'bout the size of that one."

Fishing Stories relate to daily life

"I suspend all rules when it comes to fishing stories, Job. Got one of my own. Caught a real monster fish myself once, called Leviathan. Bigger than half this planet. Boy he was a fighter. Some of the story in that book in the Bible with your name on it."

"Do, tell, Lord. You're a fisherman, too."

"Not lately. It was fun to watch you do it. You're pretty good, you know."

"Thanks for that, Sir... Uh, you ain't here jes' to talk fishin'?"

"Depends on you, Job."

"Well, Sir. It's bein' a daddy. I mean I was daddy to the three other kids but little Izzy is different."

"Better not let Katy hear you call him that, Job.... Just kidding."

"I knew you wuz, Sir."

"Sometimes when he cries I get all mixed up. I get scared and, Lord help me, I even get mad, like. I jest don't understand."

"You would never hurt any of those children, Job. Trust me."

"But those feelin's, Sir. Like I just want to be just like my daddy. He got powerful mean sometimes when he drank. That's why I don't drink none anymore. And why I leaves when the bad times come."

"I know, Job. I respect you for that."

"You do, Sir? You ain't jus' saying that like that shrink at the VA?"

"No, Job. I'm your God, not your shrink. Remember?"

"Uh, yes Sir."

"Job, do you understand that, in a way, you went to war a long time before you ever got to Vietnam."

"You mean daddy in World War Two? He didn't do nuthin' like I did. Nine little missions. Didn't even drop no bombs. He don't know what no war wuz like. Sittin' up 25 thousand feet watchin' out while folks took pictures.... Big deal. What gived him the right to be so mean?

"There was your sister, Job."

"So what? Little Katy had cere-bral palsies. My Katy lost a little girl, too. Bad asthma. Made her sweeter, not mean like him."

"I know, Job."

"Uh.... I din't mean to go on all mad like that. Not nice of me. I told Daddy I forgived him jes' before he died. He finally called old Father Callahan. Did his confession and Las' Rites. Old Father said he'd done baptized daddy into this world and he was gonna see him out."

"Daddy even tol' me he was sorry. Killed hisself with that alcohol, though. Sure as he'd used a gun."

"Yes he did, Job."

"You let a man into heaven he kills hisself?"

"What do you think, Job?"

"Guess that must be a powerful sin.... But dayy weren't in his right mind. Didn't hardly know who he wuz in the end. So I guess you cain't hold a man responsible for what he did outta his right mind. And... He did say he was sorry."

"Yes, Job, he did..."

PTSD: Vietnam Revisited

"Almost kilt myself after 'Nam. Got to thinkin' little Katy was the lucky Boudreaux. Loaded up my .45. Then I threw it in the creek. Chickened out."

"Takes a brave man to just live sometime, Job."

"Why am I tellin' you all dat. You remembers everthing."

"Actually, Job, I'd forgotten that one... You made your confession and asked me to forgive you. Remember."

"Honest."

"Tell me you're sorry and mean it Job and I get real forgetful real fast. That's how it works."

"That's nice of you, Sir. You sure are a good God. Wisht I could forget like that."

"I don't do wishes, Job. Is that a prayer?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You willing to take another little trip or two, Job. Might get a pretty rough."

"You're the Boss, Sir."

Understanding Father's War Wounds

Job found himself sitting in the midsection of a B-29 by the gunner's observation bubble. He looked at his hand and saw a lighter and a Lucky Strike cigarette.

"What's this, God. I din't never smoke no non filters, even when I smoked. An' this is my daddy's lighter. Oh, Lord, I'm my daddy."

"In a way, Job."

"What's these goggles on my head. Like a welder's."

"Better put them on when the Major tells you."

A voice came through the intercom. "Goggles on, crew and roll film. They're going to drop that big bomb. Sound off when you're ready."

Job slipped on the goggles. "Boudreaux ready," he said in his father's voice.

Another voice came on, all excited. "This is gonna be the biggest ever. Bigger than that British blockbuster. I heard it'll take out five or ten city blocks. Gonna scare the shit out of those Japs."

The Major's voice came back. "No chatter." The line went quiet.

The flash came first. Eerie. Job sat in pitch dark with the goggles on, then it was brighter than the Sun.

The major's voice, "Don't look at it, people. Not 'til I give the order."

Job just looked at the inside of the plane. All lit up. Not even a shadow. Bright light almost so bright he could see the bones in his hand. Then the sound. Not sharp like an explosion: a rumble, then a roar. Coming and coming. The whole plane buffeting in the shock wave, even miles away. Then the buffeting stopped."

"Time for photo run", the Major said. "You can look now. Be sharp, gunners. Don't remove goggles until I say. Any Japs in the air, they're probably blinded. Watch for mid airs."

Job looked. Mushroom cloud doesn't describe it. A bright boiling inferno thousands of feet high. Colors even through the dark glasses. Boiling and growing.

"My, God," Job said.

"Yes, Job?"

"Forgot you was here, Sir. Uh, better stop talking in this intercom, They'd done think I, er daddy, be crazy."

"They can't hear us, Job. Just like before. How do you feel?"

"Like my daddy must have felt. Can't put it in words too good. It's just a big boiling ball of hate. Like we just opened the gates of Hell."

"Hell on Earth, Job."

"How many died, Sir?"

"Seventy five thousand three hundred seventeen to your date, Job. Some right away, lots days later from burns. many people years later from cancer. They are still dying and some of their children."

"Like little Katy, Sir?"

"Lets get out of here, Job. Even I can't stand to watch this one. I have somewhere else to go."

"Please, Sir... Anywhere."

Job blinked his eyes. It was almost dark in the living room of his old house. He was hiding, listening to his parents talk."

"Uh, Sir, I'm all little. I'm scared."

"It's the night after little Katy's funeral, Job. You're safe. Your daddy didn't drink that week. Listen."

Job heard the voice of his father, Jean Boudreaux. "It's my fault. Got all that radiation from that bomb. Shouldn't have done it..."

His wife said, "The doctor said it was cerebral palsy, Jean. She was just too weak to fight the pneumonia."

"Doctor don' know nothin'. I wuz there. God's punishin' ole Jean. Shouldn't have shot down that Jap plane on that recon mission. Then they'd never got the target pictures. Maybe they'd never dropped the bomb."

She answered, "Then that Japanese would have killed you, Jean. You did what you had to do. It was war."

"I jes' died today. Last part of me died. Nuthin' don't mean nuthin'. Last part of me died."

"You still got little Job, Jean."

"He deserves better'n he got. Better'n me...."

Job blinked. He was bank on the bank by his fishing pole. He couldn't see too clearly. He realized he was crying.

"Tell me why you're crying, Job."

"My daddy, Sir. He done said what I say when the bad times come, 'Nuthin' don't mean nuthin'.' Jes' like me."

"Yes, Job. You've said that."

"... Uh, Sir... How do I forget like you? Ferget what daddy did to me?"

"You want to forget him completely, Job? Let me show you something."

Fishing with Daddy

Job briefly saw almost transparent figures of a man and a young boy on the bank near him. The boy was fighting the fight of his life with a huge fish and they both were laughing.

Then Job said, " I remember! He took me fishin' few days after little Katy died. Still had quit his drinkin'. He hooked the biggest fish you ever did see and let me fight him in. Daddy didn't say nothin'. Jes' smiled real proud like."

"You feel that feeling again, Job?"

"Sure do Sir.... Say, you hooked me that fish today, didn't you? Just like my Daddy did...."

"Got me again, Job. But you landed him...."

"Now, Job I want you to try something. Try to remember how the pain really felt in that Army hospital after they amputated your fingers."

"I can remember, Sir, Just can't feel the pain."

"That's how it works for people. When you really remember, the pain goes away."

"Uh, Sir.... I said the words but I never really forgived daddy, I think. It's too late, ain't it?"

"He's in my world now. There's no time here at all. It's never too late for Me."

"I 'cept his apology, Sir.... Finally."

Job sat on the bank. A light mist fell. Not exactly a rain but heavier than a dew. Right in the middle of bright Sun like it does in the Deep South sometimes.

"Job, you can look up. I have something for you."

Job looked up and saw a huge double rainbow. The first one he'd ever seen. One below the other. "That's beautiful, G-d.", he said. "Thank you. Kin I tell Katy?"

"Please do, Job. She'd like that. Her grandma used to tell her a story about how a rainbow means I'm smiling."

"Sir, Did I make you smile?"

"You bet, Job... PTSD, Vietnam and all war wounds can be healed."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I dedicate this story to my first two "grown up" friends whom I shall call Major Frank and Mama San. They were both there the day that Bomb fell, he in the air and she on the ground. While they never told me these things directly, little kids have big ears and I know they struggled to live with the horror they saw and to stop blaming themselves for congenital problems their children suffered. Yet, they both found room in their hearts to love a scrawny often ill tempered little Army brat like he was their own son. And as long as people can do that, it's all gotta mean something. TGS

About the author:

Thomas G. Shafer, MD, received his medical degree from the University of Virginia and did three years Post Doctoral work in Psychiatry at Penn State University. His 20 year professional career has been equally divided between Psychiatry and General/Emergency Medicine. He has worked with childhood hyperactivity syndromes as both a professional and parent. Dr. Shafer currently works for the Veteran's Health Administration.

Thanks to the Internet and modern software, Dr. Shafer revived a long dormant writing career several years ago. He has published multiple professional and popular works in such venues as The Journal of the Academy of Regression Therapy, the Jewish Magazine and, of course, SelfhelpMagazine. He is the Fiction Editor of SelfhelpMagazine and Associate Editor of the ART Journal.

His novel about his clinical work with Vietnam veterans is The Double Rainbow, published by Picasso Publications of Ontario. His address is: 213 Creekside Drive, Florence, AL

Revised 1/31/10 by Marlene M. Maheu, Ph.D.