By Lynn Hubbard
Some memories stay with us forever. I used to live in New Jersey. There wasn’t much self-sacrifice at our school. Then one day in junior high we had a guest speaker. The entire school was herded into the auditorium to hear him talk. There was much chatter and mayhem as we fumbled for seats next to our friends. Once more or less settled, the Principal introduced us to a man.
He was different from the typical stiff tied puppet that was
usually announced. This guy was not perfect, he had scars. This fact in itself
caught our attention.
Then he began to speak, and we listened to his story.
He had been injured in Vietnam. He was on a patrol boat on a
river. The air was thick with smog and the river was even filthier. He stood on
deck keeping watch, an enemy boat approached and fighting commenced. A
phosphorus grenade exploded in his hand and ignited him. He was thrown free
from the vessel, and into the oil filled river. The river burned and so did he.
He ducked under the water to escape the flames, but the
water was so polluted they would not extinguish. He started to sink, yet the
fire still burned. He burned all the way down, and all the way back up as he
swam for the surface.
Even then he had a zest for life. It would have been easy to
just give in and be engulfed. But he wasn’t done yet.
Guided by the flames above, he broke through gasping for
air. He was pulled back onto the boat and the flames were beat out.
I can’t imagine the agonizing pain he must have went through
just to live. But live he did. He recuperated, slowly. And fate brought him to
my school.
By now the room was silent. Each lost in their own thoughts.
And then he started to yell. To yell about how we are wasting our lives. Lives
that we have, due to the sacrifices of our soldiers.
It was at this point in time that the staff started to
evacuate us from the room. They escorted us out and I could still hear him
shouting out his message.
For us to Live.
That we have a purpose.
And then we were rushed down the hallways, and back to our
safe little rooms.
Then it happened.
The teacher apologized to us.
FOR HIM.
I was pissed then, and I’m still pissed now.
So this book is being written for him. And for anyone who
needs to be reminded that they have a purpose. That they need to live.
Living is so much more than just surviving. Surviving
is the easy part. Living is hard, but oh so worth the effort.
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