A long time ago, in a jungle far far away, a man perished in the Viet Nam War.
He is a ghost in my life. A man I remember today. I may not have known him but my father did. Love has no boundaries in the theatre of war, and strangers fighting in a common fight, find companionship, security, honor and valor, together.
I carried his name, until the burden of never ever living up to his valor, courage and honor, drove me to wipe him away, the only way I knew how.
I never figured out why a man would name his son after a soldier who died in the heat of war, then tell that child, he was a mistake, and should never have been born.
It is an indictment of my father, and besmirches the name of that man who died.
Honor has its place.
I remember …