Fame & The Fatman

“And in local news tonight we have a special treat about a local man no one knows who he is but each day he sings for them on their way home from work asking for nothing in return.” 

The story begins at the local VAMC where a man each day rain or shine stands at the entrance/exit singing accapella.  They showed footage of someone’s cellphone recording his deep baritone toothless voice singing “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen.  He attempted to shield his face but there was no mistaking such talent when it showed up on the “web” for all the world to see.

The next day he was still at his post as it were but he had a sign that read, “Please do not video record me, Thank you for your understanding.”  He was a quiet unassuming man who seemed to keep to himself most of the time despite this obvious talent he was sharing and hiding at the same time.  A man had once offered to record him if chose but he politely said, “No thank you.” As he blushed and looked to the ground.

The fat man you see was not very proud of his life and worked hard to hide it from the world because at one point long ago...he gave up on his dreams for all the wrong reasons and now he has too many secrets to hide for a social media driven society.

When the fat man was a young man he graduated from high school and went to work like most men in his area do.  But after the death of a family member he looked up to he joined the military to do more with his life and hopefully one day to pay for college.  During his service he worked at several different jobs but excelling at nothing.  At one point he even turned down a chance to sing in the military despite his talent begging to be shared.

He kept on until his discharge and as he had planned began attending college at a local junior college.  He studied vocal performance and theater his two favorite things going back to the ripe age of 2.  He was studying with younger students who recently graduated from high school and they all treated him like a mentor and confidant.  This really didn’t please him too much because
he always felt an overwhelming sense of burden carrying their pain and troubles inside of him. 

One day he got drunk and woke up in the hospital after what he was told was a failed suicide attempt he didn’t even remember doing.  The doctors put him into the hospital mental ward and attempted to get the Department of Veteran Affairs to help him.  They politely declined stating he didn’t qualify for treatment at their facility, he never forgot that.

He finally graduated from college after several more stays in the hospital but his career was pretty much over, he just gave up trying anymore.  He knew something was wrong with him and spent the next several years trying to figure out what that was all the while not fulfilling his promise to himself, to share his talent with the world.  Instead he crawled inside himself for decades singing only at home alone, in the car but never sharing it with anyone else.

One day he got married to a beautiful woman and they had a daughter they named Shelby.  He would sing her to sleep each night until the marriage fell apart and once again he was on his own.  And the gift went back into the closet to never share it again.  All that changed one day when he heard the military was going back to war and the local VAMC was being stretched thin and the employees were working hard to take care of the returning injured service personnel.

That’s when he knew what he needed to do and he began working on material for him to share with those working tirelessly to care for the injured and sick veterans of war.  One rainy day he just showed up at the entrance to the VAMC got out of his car at the end of their work day and began singing.  He never accepted any gratuities and occasionally would take a bow for those who stopped their vehicles got out and listened to him.

Each holiday he would sing songs from that holiday with his deep baritone voice even when it was snowing and blowing he never missed a day.  He refused to go to the doctors even when he knew he needed to this was a task he would put on the back burner even years after the war had ended for the most part.  If one of the doctors at the VAMC saw he was hurting they would stop and check to see what he might need and give him what many veterans lovingly call “Grunt Candy” for the pain.  But still he kept singing.

When the media got a hold of his story the firestorm of attention was more than his heart and mind could bear.  Five months after the media frenzy began the fatman as he was known took his life.  On a piece of paper he left a sentence, “Fame & the fatman” was a musical I could no longer bear. 

The day of his funeral at the local National Cemetary there was a crowd at the entrance gate they were singing a song to him on his way to his final resting place.  The song they sang was, “Hallelujah” each struggled to sing the words.  In the front was the young woman who’s video was the reason that caused his pain.  She held up a sign that simply read, “I bear the weight of your pain as your musical ends.”

Freedom Hunts

Dave walked into the Old Soldier’s Home on Michigan looking his “Uncle Mike”.  He went straight to his room but he wasn’t there.  He looked in the kitchen and he wasn’t there so he checked with Dana the evening staffer.  She told him, he was in the “lounge” watching some hunting show while the others napped.

Mike had been an active hunter in his youth before entering the service but when he came home, he wasn’t himself anymore.  Something in him just gave up on much of what used to make him happy.  He walked around most of his adult life lost unsure what he wanted or where he wanted to be.  Till eventually he just got too old to do much of anything anymore and had settled into the old troopers home waiting to die.

“Hey Unk, what are you doing in here?” Dave quipped knowing what he thought the answer would be.  But when Mike looked up he had tears in his eyes, he had been watching a public television hunting show.  The show was about soldiers going hunting on a “freedom hunt.”  They both sat quiet after that watching the show till it ended, Mike again wiping tears from his eyes.

“So when are you going to apply?  I can help you fill out the paperwork if you want Uncle Mike.”  Mike didn’t answer just walked back to his room and laid on the bed whimpering till he fell asleep.  Dave sat quietly watching him sleep, looking at the pictures from his “uncle’s” past seeing his Dad in several of them.  His dad had been best friends with Mike since they were very young before going into the Army together in 1986.

After several years they got separated and Mike fell apart on his own eventually getting discharged for what the Army called an overdose attempt.  But Mike always claimed he was drunk and didn’t realize how many pills he had taken.  Nevertheless it stayed on his record and he kept his Honorable Discharge but being a “Peacetime Veteran” there wasn’t much available as far as support when he got home.

When Dave’s dad passed away in Spring of 1991,  Mike was introduced to Dave as “Uncle Mike” and remained that way forever.  But Dave knew something wasn’t right about Mike but never asked not until that day when he woke up Mike.

“Mike, tell me why you won’t apply for that hunt please?”

“Just let it go Dave, it’s not important anymore.”

“You’re almost 60 years of age and I want to see you happy once before you leave me here alone.  Since my Mom passed you are the closest thing I have to family, Mike.”

Mike rolled over and sat up facing Dave, “I can’t apply I’m not a combat veteran, now leave it alone.”

But Dave was as stubborn as Mike was and didn’t let it go instead he filed the paperwork and in the comments section he wrote down the following:

“My “Uncle” thinks he doesn’t deserve this hunting trip because he was not a combat veteran.  Most of his life after his service he hid that he was even a veteran until he lost his house when he got really sick and couldn’t pay for it anymore.  Then they took him into the Old Soldier’s Home so he wouldn’t be homeless.  I know my father, his best friend and military buddy would agree if he was still alive that Mike deserves this no matter what, he served his country doing the best he could until he made a mistake and was discharged.  Please consider him for one of your hunting trips.”

The next fall Mike got a letter in the mail from the Freedom Hunts Organization and immediately thought of Dave before opening the letter.  “That kid never listens to me.”

In the letter he was invited to join a Deer Hunt in November, all expenses paid with a guide at a nearby hunting property that was privately owned.  The owner was a Lt. Colonel (retired) from the Army.  Mike saw that and immediately threw the letter away not responding but Dana removed it from the trash when Mike was napping and passed it on to Dave on his next visit when Mike refused to see him.

On November 14th, a caravan of vehicles showed up at the Old Soldiers Home including the local Rolling Thunder group to pick up Mike.  Dana asked Mike to step outside a moment but he refused to come outside.  The colonel came in to get him, “Specialist Fourth Class Michael T. Hammer report to me immediately soldier!”  No response.

The colonel walked into the room and handed Mike a hat that said, “If you enjoy your freedom thank a Veteran.”  Mike tossed it aside.  “Get out.”

“Mike I know what happened to you and I’m sorry I made that mistake a long time ago.  I was young and listening to my superiors instead of taking care of one of my men.  Let me fix this by taking you hunting, you’ve earned it.”

“Go to hell and get away from me Colonel.  You ruined my world and refused to care if I just made a mistake along the way.  I tried to explain it to you but you didn’t hear a word I was saying.  Now get out.”

Dave walked in,  “Uncle Mike I got this for you please don’t turn it down, my dad wouldn’t want you to do this and you know it.”

“Your dad died alone because I made a stupid mistake after we got transferred to different places.  I let him down when I should have been there for him in the Gulf.  Now both of you get out.”

Just then you could hear an entire group chanting a cadence as they entered the building, it was then entire caravan of men, women and children all there to take Mike hunting.  They filed into his room surrounding him as he sat in his chair tears running down his face.  The leader of the Rolling Thunder walked in...

“I am Master Sgt. Thomas W. Turner, I served in Viet Nam and ended my illustrious career after getting shot in the buttocks in February 1991.  I am a combat veteran yes, but I am just like you.  I made a mistake that got me shot in the butt and my honorable discharge doesn’t reflect that either.  You got honorably discharged along with everyone in this room now get up and get ready to go hunting troop.”

Mike stood up and immediately his knees gave way but two brothers helped him back up.  “We got your back Mike, let’s go have some fun in the woods okay?”  Mike went and spent the entire week hunting, laughing and have a really good time with the other veterans many of whom were combat veterans and not once did he get treated like a lesser individual.  The last picture Dave received before Mike passed away was of  him standing tall with a smile on his face behind his 10 point buck that he never would have gotten without Dave.

Five Favors:Short Story

Jack laid on the bed in his one room apartment the feeling of cold steel in his right hand, he was thinking about things in his life.  How he had failed his parents by being a screw up, by failing his brothers in arms by being mentally unstable when they needed him most and by failing to provide for the children he probably never should have even had with his second ex.

“Dear God it just takes five things to make this right, just five thoughts or five favors or five memories to let go of.”

In his mind, those five things were five favors for others.

1. Make a will and trust for his children
2. Pay for his own funeral costs
3. Pay his respects to his brothers families when possible
4. Donate his valuables to a charity
5. Say good bye to his parents

Most of these were obvious but many wouldn’t think those things would be important to most with this frame of mind.  He wanted desperately to express how clearly he was thinking and not insane at the time of his death by suicide.  He wanted to be remember for something positive not the fact that he chose suicide over living an incomplete life.  Some things in life are harder than others for those of us who don’t understand the choice in the first place.

Jack was about to finish his favors as he picked up his cell when he remembered something, he forgot on of his brothers family members.




He dialed a number in his cell, “Hey don’t hang up its Jack.  Yeah I know I wasn’t supposed to call you anymore but I’m sober and needed to apologize for your brothers death, I should have never talked him into joining with me.  Thanks, and I know you don’t want to hear this but, I love you still Case.  Tell the kids I miss them, bye.”

With that he wiped away a tear and hung up then dialed one more number...

“Hi Dad, yeah I know it’s late I just wanted to say I can’t make it for Thanksgiving this year tell Mom I love her alright.  Hey Dad, I love you too.  No, No I’m fine just tired.  No, I just haven’t been sleeping well, yeah I am taking my meds Dad.  I’m just feeling so wound up and tired at the same time.  You take care of yourself old man, I gotta hang up so you can go back to sleep. Bye.”

Jack laid back staring at the ceiling tiles with the glow in the dark stars on them, drew one more breath and placed the gun to his head, to his chest and with a deep breath there was silence once more.

“Hey Jack you forgot me didn’t you?” A voice in the darkness called out to him.

Screaming out loud, “I gave you five favors now leave me alone to do this.”

“Have you forgotten one thing?  When have you bared the wait of my chains?  When have you prophetized my words?  Have you honored your father, mother and children for me?”

“You will not forsake my soul for this failure, I have given all I have left.  My soul is broken, tired and empty.  If you don’t let me into the heavenly gates, I will lay with my fallen brothers till the end of time.”

The Christmas Soldier

From the Christmas Ledger December 25, 1967:

“Announcing the birth of boy to Jason and Amanda Walker, seven pounds fifteen ounces.  His parents called him their Christmas miracle having lost two babies before they named him John Thomas Walker after the father’s deceased father who was recently killed in Vietnam.  CSM J.T. Walker was serving in the US Army 1^st Signal Brigade having been recently reassigned due to a knee injury while serving with the 173d Airborne Brigade.  His troopers called him “The Christmas Soldier” because he too was born on Christmas Day.”

That was a day Amanda Walker would never forget but not for the reasons one might think rather it was also the day her only son left her on December 25, 1991.  He had served in the US Army like his Grandpa, his Great-Grandpa and his Dad all had before him each making their own sacrifice.  Two paid the ultimate sacrifice and one came home scarred by the things he saw having served as an Army Ranger Sgt. Jason Walker (retired) injured during a black ops mission that remains classified to date.

On December 25, 1991, Specialist J.T Walker made the ultimate sacrifice for his brethren during an ambush.  Having been severely injured he conjured up the strength to pull all four other men to safety and kill all the enemy attackers that were converging on them.  He died of his injuries at approximately 2048 on the aforementioned date surrounded by those men whom he sacrificed so much to save.

December 25, 2011 2^nd Lt. Jamie D. Holmes was hit by an IED while riding in a convoy with her driver Specialist James T. Hunter Jr who was killed instantly was injured.  When she arrived at the medical operations center she asked where the soldier was who pulled her from the burning Humvee.

“I’m sorry Lt. but no one was with you when the medics brought you in.”

“No, he was there he said he wouldn’t let go of me no matter what, he held my wound closed till I hear the medics arrive, didn’t they help him he was bleeding out too!”

They calmed her down and reported to their chain of command what she reported.  Everyone else that was debriefed from that attack all reported the same thing an injured male soldier who held onto them and protected them until help arrived.  Each describing a similar soldier with an injury to his abdomen area. His name tag read, “Walker”.

For generations there have been reports of a soldier named Walker giving aid and protection from harm on Christmas Day.  Amanda Walker still holds the entire collection the Walker family has received since JT’s Great-Grandpa had died on Christmas Day during WWI.

Letters that all said the same thing in so many words, “I owe your family a debt I can never repay for one of your own saved my life…”

What a man looks like

On a hot Indian summer afternoon a short, stocky white man wandered into town wearing his Army Dress Greens his name was Specialist Thomas Benjamin King of Kalamazoo, Michigan.  He headed straight toward the music he heard, he had recognized it as a type of music his buddy PFC Junior Smith played when their brothers were killed in Afghanistan.  When he arrived where the music was playing he was met with a very hostile response.

“You don’t belong here white boy, move on.” The largest black man in a group of five hollered at him as he moved forward toward Thomas.  Who didn’t back down but stood his ground with his eyes looking toward the ground without taking them off of his hostile force approaching.

“I am here to pay my respects to my brother and then I will go.” He replied in a rather tentative tone.  He wasn’t trying to start a fight but he wanted to pay his respects.  The one man noticed his medals and said something to the others Thomas couldn’t hear but they all laughed.

“What they do white boy give you Junior’s medal?  Is that what they did over there?”  He moved toward Thomas and tore the medal off his chest.  “Ain’t nobody want your sorry ass here white boy so why don’t you go back to wherever it was you f*&^ing came from before we take to kicking your ass.”

Thomas’s jaw clenched and his fists followed preparing to defend himself at all costs, he could care less about the medal but he wanted to pay his respects to his fallen brother before he left.  Before he moved three steps around they had knocked him down and were kicking and hitting him screaming at him, “Fight back white boy, fight back!”  Thomas never did anything besides cover up and wait for them to kill him.

“Get off that white boy right now, Clent, you hear me boy.”  An elderly old woman was standing there holding her worn out cane with a medal on her collar Thomas recognized, it was a purple heart.  “Mr. King please accept my dearest apologies for the boys they took their cousin’s death pretty badly and are used to inflicting payback for a death.”  Thomas stood up with the help of two of the younger boys who suddenly looked ashamed by their actions.  The one who ripped the medal off handed it back to him without looking him in the eye.  “No hard feelings it’s not like it’s my first ass whooping.”

“You’re the one aren’t you?”  She asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about Ma’am.” He replied stuffing the medal in his pocket.

“Don’t lie to a nurse young man, I have seen what happens in combat firsthand and I will be treated with respect at my home, do you understand me?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am the one.”

She turned to the boys and began scolding them as Thomas walked to the side of the house where the grave was placed under a weeping willow tree Junior always talked about.  “That boy took a beating for your cousin in Afghanistan when they were captured by the enemy.  Two months before your cousin pushed him out of the line of fire when he spotted a sniper, you will not touch him again, do you hear me boy?”

“That’s the one Junior wrote about?  He’s so short and don’t look like much didn’t even fight back when he struck him.”  The biggest boy asked staring at Thomas.

“Yes he is and your cousin thought of him as a brother before and after that day.  That young man took a daily beating in his place because he didn’t want them to punish Junior for being black and not Muslim.  I heard from a friend at the German Hospital where he was treated before shipping stateside he had whip marks all over his back.  That is what a man looks like and you should remember what it looks like the next time you shoot at someone in your gangland crap, do you hear me?”

Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out a medal box, sat it on top of Junior’s gravestone marker, turned and left.  When she went to the grave marker and opened the box it held a Bronze Star that was awarded to Specialist Thomas Benjamin King for conduct while in captivity as described by PFC Junior Smith.

Anger Management and a Medal

Army Master Sgt. John Benjamin Turner Sr. is sitting in a private court-ordered Anger Management session with Captain Jessica Marie Cortez (Army Retired) who works at the local VAMC.  This is the fifth session and the ordering Judge at Veteran Court has been reviewing the reports and wants more response from Sgt. Turner or he will be facing some serious jail time for holding the judge’s court hostage demanding he immediately be charged with murder after the military investigation into his last deployment gave him a medal for heroism.

“Mr. Turner we have been here four times and you cannot sit in my office and discuss every other thing.  We need to reach the point that drove you to the courthouse that day.  Or you will be put in jail for doing what you did.” 

“Ma’am, I will not talk to you about that last deployment and I know I started this but I would rather spend the rest of my life in jail than be given an award I didn’t earn.  You can keep asking and I will sit here quietly, defiantly until you just call the police and have me removed.”

Ms. Cortez paused for a moment, pulled a file out of her desk slamming it on the top.  “Do you see this?  Do you think I am stupid and do not know what happened?  I am sick and tired of you playing me for a civilian fool, tell me what happened or go to jail, either way I will sleep tonight.”

A tear began to roll down his face, his mouth began to bleed he was grinding his bottom teeth he had left into the upper gums where he forgot to put his teeth in this morning.  “I can’t don’t you understand?  My wife left because of what happened over there.”

“I know but you have to discuss it in order for you to get past it, please tell me so I can help you.”  Now she was starting to cry.

“We were under an ambush our vehicle blew upside down.  My team was under heavy crossfire and most of them were injured.  It was getting dark and the enemy had backed off likely waiting until dark to attack and assassinate us all.  Most of my men were passed out but one right next to me, my driver was moaning.  I needed the enemy to think we were all dead or nearly dead so hopefully they wouldn’t fire into my men anymore.

I covered his mouth but he just moaned harder he clearly had a head injury but I had to get him to stop.  (He weeps a bit, getting choked up on it)  I put my hand over his mouth not realizing I was choking him, he stopped breathing in the midst of it as the enemy looked in and once I knew my guys were all safe or so it seemed as I opened fire on them killing them all.  When I was debriefed I didn’t mention one important thing that came up when they did the autopsy on my son, I choked him to death.  Five days later they gave me a medal for killing my son to save the others”