My Little Friend

   I (dad) am writing these few words while flying to a weekend appointment. There is a passenger on board that did not pay for his fare. I offered to pay it for him, but they refused. He is sitting in the seat next to me. He reclines in somewhat of a mystical “praying hands” position. He is so small he sits unnoticed. His mother is not here. He has never spoken a word. He does not cry. His father is alive today, somewhere on earth. A friend gave him to me to care for. Lunch will be served in a few moments, yet he will not eat. He once had a very strong appetite – but no more. He didn’t lose it, it was taken from him!

   He will never again swim with abandoned pleasure in the fluids of his mother’s womb. She did not love him. He is in limbo. His cry was never heard.

   His “personal choice” to live was cast aside. He was not made a “ward of the court” but to the contrary, all protections, by the courts, were removed from him. He was one of five million who have been wasted by a culture that places a “low self-image on life”.
   The doctors who took the vow to preserve life, deliberately destroyed his. He was not sucked out of the womb in small bits and pieces much like a garbage disposal discharges waste. He was one of the elite who was poisoned with a saline (salt) solution. He did not drink it willingly. It was injected into his little world.
   Now he sits – quiet and still. He is preserved in chemicals, and kept inside a special container – hidden from the eyes of the living. Atrocities of any given generation happen – yet none seems to be aware of them while they are going on.
   We’re now making our decent into New York City. This could have been his hometown, for more of his relatives were aborted here last year than were born alive. I dare not remove him from his hiding place. He would strike fear in the hearts of all the passengers.
   His conception was a personal choice, and so was his death. He is a legal “homicide” yet never threatened anyone with harm. He may have been another Einstein or Edison.
   He is silent yet so eloquent.
   He is naked and defenseless, yet he attacks us – reminds us – shames us!
   We fear him for we have failed to love him.
   We hide from him, yet there is no place.
   Now everyone is departing. Look at them – hugging loved ones – sweethearts embracing. It’s great to be alive.
   My little friend? His life stopped at 20 weeks yet he is perfectly formed. Weight – about half pound – size – a handful.
   On his tomb is placed the saying, “Cold is my grave, but O I love it. For colder were my friends above it.”
   “Personal choice?” We’ve heard from the living, perhaps now we should listen to the dead

     People have many “personal choices”. What to eat, wear, and where to work, who to marry, which church to attend, and on and on. We have “personal choices”. Maybe we need to re-think the “personal choice” of Abortion. What happened to dad’s friend’? Dad had him ‘laid to rest’ in a beautiful place, with a quiet ceremony.

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Abortion – A Personal Choice?

     As I look at this ‘tract’, I notice that it is a bit old, say probably 15 to 20 years old. Written originally while dad was at his old address here in Lake City, Florida. During this time he handed out hundreds maybe thousands of this little thing. His purpose? It was simply to stop teenagers mainly from making a decision they would most likely regret. Yes, it is a tract for any and all to read, for the same purpose.
   As I write this, I remember when dad showed to me a wooden box with a matching hinged top. It was lined carefully on the inside with soft, red cloth, and it had a brass latch on it which kept the precious contents safe during travel. You may have seen it in one of his meetings with a congregation or group of teenagers. The box was small, it looked like an ordinary box, and created curiosity in the airports he traveled through. What was so important, so precious that it was cared for this way? It was a small six weeks old aborted baby.
   Before you get all excited, understand this little boy was given to dad for a purpose by a friend. The purpose was so people could see that at just 20 weeks, what everyone calls a “fetus” or “a mass” is in fact, a child. I have no picture of this little boy, but memory serves well enough, besides I would should no disrespect to him.
   Now I present to you dad’s tract… word for word…
  
   “Abortion is just another word for death. Whether deliberate or not the results are the same. Two positions have emerged – “Abortion On Demand” and “The Right To Life”.

   According to the supreme court, abortion is just a matter of personal choice. Life for the unborn no longer holds the position of honor and protection, but now is in the broad area of human choice or judgment. The changing attitude toward crime in general continues on the downward slide. The victim is often ignored while the criminal clamors for his/her rights.

                                   SUICIDE IS A PERSONAL CHOICE

   Few people elect this form of demise when someone still loves them. Yet even this last fatal judgement of the mind is not just a “personal choice” when it directly involves others. To “pull one’s own plug” in the twilight of life is hardly compared to a plane hijacker who threatens himself and many others on board.

   Abortion is a personal choice that involves more than the one making it. In America alone, 17 million (unborn) babies were “aborted” in the last 10 years. What kind of “personal choice” is it when I decide to end the life of another person? Such decision was not based on  a threat to the mother’s life or was the pregnancy the result of rape or abuse. Deformity or disease are not involved in the vast majority of “wasting these lives”. A personal choice was!

                                            
                                      MURDER IS A PERSONAL CHOICE

   Abortion is death and the choosing of death is made by one person for another. This law in principle reads, “It is my personal choice (judgment) to choose death for you.” When murder is committed, one (the murderer) chooses death for another (victim). They bury the victim and the murderer is punished.
 
   Aborting a “life” is not the same kind of murder. Yet in principle, they are identical. “I choose death for you!!” Is abortion really just a matter of “personal choice”?

                                              MY LITTLE FRIEND

   I am writing these few words while flying to a weekend appointment. There is a passenger on board that did not pay for his fare. I offered to pay it for him, but they refused. He is sitting in the seat next to me. He reclines in somewhat of a mystical “praying hands” position. He is so small he sits unnoticed. His mother is not here. He has never spoken a word. He does not cry. His father is alive today, somewhere on earth. A friend gave him to me to care for. Lunch will be served in a few moments, yet he will not eat. He once had a very strong appetite – but no more. He didn’t lose it, it was taken from him!

   He will never again swim with abandoned pleasure in the fluids of his mother’s womb. She did not love him. He is in limbo. His cry was never heard.

   His “personal choice” to live was cast aside. He was not made a “ward of the court” but to the contrary, all protections, by the courts, were removed from him. He was one of five million who have been wasted by a culture that places a “low self-image on life”.
   The doctors who took the vow to preserve life, deliberately destroyed his. He was not sucked out of the womb in small bits and pieces much like a garbage disposal discharges waste. He was one of the elite who was poisoned with a saline (salt) solution. He did not drink it willingly. It was injected into his little world.
   Now he sits – quiet and still. He is preserved in chemicals, and kept inside a special container – hidden from the eyes of the living. Atrocities of any given generation happen – yet none seems to be aware of them while they are going on.
   We’re now making our decent into New York City. This could have been his hometown, for more of his relatives were aborted here last year than were born alive. I dare not remove him from his hiding place. He would strike fear in the hearts of all the passengers.
   His conception was a personal choice, and so was his death. He is a legal “homicide” yet never threatened anyone with harm. He may have been another Einstein or Edison.
   He is silent yet so eloquent.
   He is naked and defenseless, yet he attacks us – reminds us – shames us!
   We fear him for we have failed to love him.
   We hide from him, yet there is no place.
   Now everyone is departing. Look at them – hugging loved ones – sweethearts embracing. It’s great to be alive.
   My little friend? His life stopped at 20 weeks yet he is perfectly formed. Weight – about half pound – size – a handful.
   On his tomb is placed the saying, “Cold is my grave, but O I love it. For colder were my friends above it.”
   “Personal choice?” We’ve heard from the living, perhaps now we should listen to the dead.

   Free copies of this tract are available while they last. Just write and let me know.

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Growing Up

   Being a teenager was tough. Sometimes I thought mom and dad were just not ‘with it’, or didn’t care. (I under estimated them). It’s just that when you are getting made-fun-of because your teeth stick out, and your hair is ‘red’ and your face is covered in freckles, and your chest is not muscular, and you’re just skinny, shy… you just don’t feel right! At least I didn’t. Believe me it was tough. However, even with that, we didn’t struggle with the things you struggle with today. I mean the worst thing kids got in trouble for was smoking behind the gym, or kissing a girl behind the gym, or maybe an occasional fight. When we got in trouble at school, we got in trouble at home. That was ‘capital punishment’ time. Today’s teens stuggle with gangs, and drugs, sex, guns, killings in schools, huge peer pressure, metal detectors, and on and on! I just have a hard time with that. Things have really changed and I will be the first to admit it.
   How to cope and what to do? Well, at least, in spite of the fact that I AM NOT A PROFESSONAL COUNSELOR and am not claiming to be such… I CARE. I hope that our time together will be helpful at least to the extent that you don’t feel alone. You MAY NOT AGREE with some things I say. THAT IS FINE you don’t have to, but it is still a place to come and talk and share. So we begin this adventure together….
   My prayer for you is that God will open up his store-house of blessings and wisdom for you, and that the tough times will be learning and growing times. Which serve to make you better and stronger.
   You can make it through these years, trust me. There is no need to quit, give up, or run.
You are loved beyond belief, by the god of the Universe, and I pray, by your parents. There is where you find you structure, your protection…. If not… there is help. Don’t look to another teenager for it, most times, they are in the same boat, or B.T.D.T (been there done that). 
   More later……. hang in there.

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No Substitute For Victory

Never Forget

Never Forget

It was a clear day back in September, and I was in the shed just cleaning up a bit. I had the radio on for ‘company’ I guess. Usually listening to talk shows, and usually Glenn Beck, or Hannity or Rush, and then I heard  about a tower in New York City being hit by an airplane. I went into the house and turned on the television, and the tragedy wasn’t over yet. I could not believe what I was watching. I sat on the couch, I couldn’t look away, another plane, another tower was hit. People were looking, pointing at the fatally wounded towers. I was just one of millions, stunned, and shocked by the actions of a few ‘religious’ fanatics. I was angry, very angry, that people would do this to us. Who were they? Why did they do this? What do they want? We (Americans) have helped so many people around the world… now this?!!!  People were jumping from the towers, they didn’t want to die in the flames, so they just jumped. Hearts were breaking, mine was breaking. Tears were flowing, time passed, not much time, but just as I thought things were bad, they got worse, as one tower crumbled and fell, and then the second came down. There were people screaming, crying, running, falling. There were people covered in dust, there were people trying to save people. New York was hit, America was hurt. Where once two tall towers proudly stood and marked the skyline, now an empty space, and smoke. Then President Bush stood, representing a determined America, and promised, “Soon those who did this will be brought to justice.”
   Here it is 2012, we have been at war with Islamic Terrorists for 11 long years. The battles have been and are still being fought. We have not yet won the victory, not yet. We are still being attacked. 911 is still being marked by death of Americans. This is not the time to pretend the victory is won, for it is not. This is not the time to get tired… it is time to remember what the war is all about, and renew our determination to WIN. THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR VICTORY.
   Christians are at war with Satan and all he stands for. Jesus came and beat him when he died on the cross, (Hebrews2:14). Yet we still have to fight. The Christian must be prepared, and wear the ‘armor’ necessary to do battle, (Ephesians 6:10-18). The devil may hit us and knock us down, and even cause us to panic, and think we are defeated, but through Jesus we are not defeated. One person said, “I HAVE READ THE END OF THE BOOK, AND GUESS WHAT… WE WIN!” Until then we must not forget, THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR VICTORY! We cannot make peace with Satan, nor can we make a treaty or have a truce. He doesn’t want that. Satan wants our total defeat. Just like those represented by the ones who knocked down the towers. There can be no truce, nor peace, for that is not what they want. They want us to give in and give up. This, we will never do. Not America! Not Christians! We will fight on, and through our Savior, we will WIN!
   If you are one who is discouraged, or just tired of ‘the fight’… trust me, enduring and persevering will be worth it. Renew your heart in prayer, and study of scriptures, and get with a good brother or sister, and let them encourage you as well. Attend the assembly of the saints, and ‘drink in’ the love and fellowship that God has added us all to.
   Winston Churchill was invited to speak one time at a University. He approached the podium slowly, but resolutely. He was silent for a minute or so, the students waiting for words from the War worn Prime Minister. He cleared his throat, and looked out at the student body and said, “NEVER….. NEVER…… NEVER….. GIVE UP!” Then he returned to his seat.
   That’s all they and we need to hear… and do.

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Let’s Pray For Balance

   ‘Grace’, ‘unmerited favor’, ‘give that boy some elbow room’, however you express it, we need it, and we need to understand it. The subject brings so many things to mind for those in the body of Christ. From feelings of joy, excitement and gratefulness, to nervousness, fear of abuse, and fear of one being a ‘change agent’ or ‘liberal’.
   The problem has been and is, and will be, one of ‘balance’. The lack of which often results in church arguments, ‘splits’, ‘splintering’ and division, but not peace and unity. We sing about grace, and mention it in sermons and at times we verbalize it in prayer. We just don’t know much about it. We are so “subnormal, when we see someone normal, we think they are abnormal!” Our emphasis teeters towards performance/ success syndrome. We are better on specifics than generics, better on commands than the underlying, under-girding principles that support them. We are strict on “authority”, but weak on mercy. We amplify words like “commitment”, “performance”, and “obedience”!!!
   It is rather hard to deny the “out of balance” charges when, as a brotherhood we have only produced a handful of books on the subject in the last 50 years. This is an indictment and a rather shameful revelation of a people who speak of restoring New Testament Christianity. Surely GRACE is the keystone of such a noble project as restoring New Testament Christianity.
   For too long, this subject has been one viewed with caution instead of being embraced with joy. The fear of the ‘abuse’ of God’s grace has resulted in a loss of BALANCE on the subject.  Uncertainty has ‘kicked’ the joy of our salvation to the side in the lives of many Christians. “Are you saved?” Someone asks… A sheepish reply comes back, “I hope so.” or “I just don’t know”. Clouds of discouragement come, as we try to ‘walk the line’, only too often to find ourselves unable to ‘do it as well as expected’.
  We need… (No, we MUST) understand God’s wonderful grace. Without it, I hate to think of, where I would be, and where any of us would be. Yes, there are plenty of scriptures that speak of God’s saving grace. There are plenty that speak of faith, obedience, as well as commandment keeping. To bring it all into BALANCE so that one scripture neither contradicts, out-weighs nor ignores the other scriptures requires an honest search for truth and desire to “rightly divide the word of truth”.
   This is similar to ones search for truth on “What must I do to be saved?” There are scriptures that say, “believe on the Lord” and you’ll be saved (Acts 16:31), “repent and be baptized…. in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins…” (Acts 2:38), “confess with your mouth, Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved (Romans 10:9). Obviously, we cannot ‘pit one verse against the other’, nor can we ignore important verses on a subject and pick the ones we want to support a position or belief… IF we are truly searching for truth. BALANCE will bring you the correct understanding, that all of these play a part in one’s coming to Jesus and finding salvation. They are all part of God’s plan of salvation. All are included in “For it is by grace you have been saved through faith— and it is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8). 
   Pray for BALANCE, we all need it.
   (For those who wish to study the ‘ABC’s of Grace’ by Jack Exum, it is provided free of charge under “Books by Jack Exum” in this site. Thank you for visiting this site.

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Preaching And Communicating

   Is there a difference in preaching and communicating? Not supposed to be… I mean, when someone gets up to speak to the people of God a message from God, it should be communicated well. (Communication involves not only speaking words but how well these words are received.) However, we have all sat and listened to well meaning preachers who have presented a message but it went ‘right over your heads’. We have all heard lessons where we have thought it would have been better to have stayed home. In other words… boring. No change, no challenge. I am guilty of all of this for sure. Over the years of preaching, there have been quite a few occasions where dad was in the audience, and he offered a lot of good advice. However I also learned from simply watching and listening to  others who were more experienced. What appealed to me was when a preacher really communicated to the people.  There is something that happens when God works in His man.

   There is something that happens to the audience as well. It shows in their faces, people lean forward, they laugh, they cry, they smile, nod. It’s hard to put in words as you have noticed, but when you are communicating and reaching the audience, you ‘feel’ something happening. Someone wisely said that “no one has the right to make the Bible boring”. Unfortunately, too many times, I made it boring. Didn’t mean to, but here are some things that I have learned… ie mistakes.

 1. Poor preparation results in shallow lessons. I look back over my first few year’s lessons and just wonder how they put up with my lessons in Fitzgerald. They were kind and patient. But poor study habits result in poor lessons. People need and want to go deeper into the scriptures. They should go home saying, “What a wonderful Lord” not “What a great speaker.” “How great is His grace” not “How great an orator this man is”. They want to see Jesus.

 2. No contact with people (staying in the office too much), hearing theirs stories, their laughter, their tears. Without this contact with people in your town (soul winning), and congregation (visiting their homes), the lessons are more a shot gun approach, hoping you may spark an interest. If you know people’s hurts, and needs it’s easier to reach them in the lessons, and illustrations without being direct.

 3. Too nervous about how you will be received (Dad called it “too much Exum, not enough Lord”). Preachers should not get in the pulpit because they have to say something… but because they have something to  say, ie a message from God. that is what people need. Actually the preacher is standing in God’s stead speaking to the greatest people on earth.  Love the people, relax, hide behind the cross, forget yourself, and speak a word from God.

 4.  Poor illustrations. and jokes. Don’t get me wrong. Jokes and illustrations really help. Without them a lesson CAN BE dry. Many times a good illustration at the right time, done well, really nails down when you are saying. A “thus saith the Lord” is good, but Jesus didn’t just quote scriptures… he used simple illustrations and stories. They were done well, and ‘hit home’. These things have to come across naturally, even if you have to reherse them over and over. “Make it your own”, dad said. Make sure the illustrations, and jokes, are appropriate for the occasion.

 5. Poor conclusions are like a “burp in a presidential speech”. You can have a great lesson, and then ruin it with a poor conclusion. Plan it all to the end. Make your endings vary. Don’t think you have to mention the 5 steps every time, and call people to be baptized. The invitation did not begin at Pentecost, it began in the 1800’s with the Mourner’s bench, and the “Altar call”. Sometimes it is good to end with a prayer. Be sure and convey your thoughts to the elders, but the idea is to reach people, not follow tradition for tradition sake.

Preaching is a privilege that carries with it huge responsibilities, so be sure you are right in yourself with the Lord. A preacher who is not right with the Lord cannot be right in the pulpit. The power needed will not be there. Be lost in the Lord and in his power. The Lord will use you if you let Him. In the end you will be humbled at what God does through the selfless attitude. Dad said, I’m the kind of guy that believes the act of communicating always supersedes any teaching or praying. Many preachers preach, but how many really communicate? You first have to get permission from your students that they want to learn. I always believed in hands-on teaching. Most preachers put themselves away  from the audience as they stand behind the pulpit. When I teach I use all kinds of visual aids. I use their eyes, and their ears, and that’s two different modes of communication working in concert. I always wanted the congregation to move up so I could touch them in many ways. I remember a child coming down front, and sitting next to me. I said, “You like being close don’t you?” She said, “Yes”. That’s the key to communication… to be down on their level. I believe the idea of a hierarchy is a no-no. It is said in the Bible, “Holy and reverend is THY name”, not my name….
 He always loved the people he spoke to and for the time he was there… he was theirs and they were his. There was a relationship with the audience, a bond, and they knew he cared. This was dad. Hard to emulate, but easy to love. Again, he would be the last one to say, “Copy me”. He would also be the first to say, LEARN FROM ME, copy what will help, and avoid that which will not help. He would encourage any and all who wanted to be a communicator, to be yourself, and let God use you in His service.

 People that dad loved in the pulpit… Charles Hodge Jr., Earl Williams., C.E. McGauphy., Fred Walker, are the ones I remember him speaking about.

“Preach the word” brother…

NOTE: WHILE SUPPLIES LAST, I WILL BE GLAD TO SEND YOU DAD’S BOOK ON “THE ART OF ILLUSTRATING” FOR THE COST OF MAILING THE BOOK. IF YOU WANT MORE THAN ONE, THE SAME APPLIES. Contact me at 496 SW Jafus Ave., Lake City, Fla., 32024

 

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Dad’s Preacher Bloopers

    There were times when dad was preaching or teaching a class, that things just didn’t go according to plan. Obviously preaching is an exciting way of serving the Lord, and well worth the struggles involved. It takes a special person, or maybe I should say, a special Lord working through a very usable “vessel”. Even then, sometimes things just don’t go ‘as planned’. You just have to laugh, and we all did.

 1. One time dad was preaching, he had a dark brown blazer on over his white shirt and tie. His pants were light brown. Well, he needed to use the bathroom, so before he got up to speak he went to the bathroom. Problem,  it went down his slacks. He had one side light brown, and the other ‘dark’. Thinking fast, he ‘innovated’, took off his  pants, soaked them in water so they looked dark  brown (along with his dark blazer). Then he returned to the auditorium to speak. He started a with dark brown blazer and dark pants, and when he finished, his pants had dried out and were light brown.

 2. One time, dad had to speak and he had a terrible cold. His throat was sore, and he had to clear his throat. Well if you were around dad a lot, you would know how that sounds. This time, he had started speaking but could not keep going… He excused himself to the bathroom and cleared his throat. “Hoooiiiiccckkk”. It was terrible of course. He came back to the class and heard everyone laughing. He discovered he had left his microphone on and every gross sound he made, was broadcast over the speakers.

 3. While in Calgary, Alberta, Canada – He got up to speak and made a special announcement about Sister Brown. “Good to have Sister Brown back with us this morning. She was being checked for cancer, and the AUTOPSY reported the cysts were benign.”

 4. Another time he was speaking and had a great lesson going about the second coming of Jesus. He was quoting from Revelation 22:7, 12 where Jesus says, “I am coming quickly” (KJV). He made that statement (I come quickly!), rushing toward the pulpit, and pointing his finger toward the audience. Then it happened, he forgot what he was going to say next. So he decided to try it again. He back up and went at the pulpit, pointed his finger at the audience, and said, “Behold I come quickly!!!” Again he could not remember what came next. One last time he backed up and determined to put everything in it. He rushed at the pulpit, just about to say those famous words, and tripped over the carpet, knocked over the pulpit, stumbled, and landed in an old lady’s lap who was sitting on the front row. His face was red, the lesson was destroyed, everyone was shocked and quiet, the pulpit was knocked over, and there he sat, red faced, apologizing in this lady’s lap.  “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened” he said. She looked at him and said, “It’s OK sonny, you done warned me three times.”

 5. Speaking on the subject of “How to raise your kids right”, making the point that if parents are not consistent, and allow their children to disrespect their authority, and the authority of teachers, that they won’t respect the law later in life. Then he raised a blank pistol, and said, “You may as well just give them a gun.”  Well, he made the mistake of going a bit far with his illustration… and pointed it at his head and pulled the trigger… To te shock of everyone… most of all, dad… there was a blank in the pistol, and it went off. What a noise. It’s hard to imagine what went through dad’s mind then. Probably thought, “I’m glad it was a blank!” Anyway, after the lesson, a young  boy came up to him as he was getting all his stuff together, and said, “I know you didn’t mean for that to happen. You’re too smart to do that twice.”

 6. While speaking one time, Dad was really hungry. He had preached over-time (I know your minister never does that), as he was preaching, he was thinking about eating fried chicken with potatoes and gravy. He ended his lesson by reading a song. “Rescue the perishing care for the dying, snatch the poor sinner from sin and the gravy!” (instead of grave).

   We remember dad would be relaxing in his big blue recliner as he told us about these times, and others, and we all just laughed till we cried. People who take themselves too seriously and cannot laugh at themselves, are people who are touchy, sensitive and hard to be around. Learn the lesson… you’re not perfect…


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Haze, My Friend

   I was 7 years old, and we lived in Alexandria, Virginia. Dad moved around so often, it was difficult to develop close, lasting friends. One friend I have remembered through the years is Haze. Memories are a bit blurry now, sad I cannot even remember his last name. We lived right next door to each other, and shared happy times together.  We went to Maury Elementary School, played in the snow during the winter. We dug in our sand pile in my back yard making tunnels and hills in the sand. We enjoyed playing with plastic army men and having make believe wars in the sand pile. This was during days when kids didn’t have to be entertained, and didn’t need expensive toys and electronic games. These were good days, we just didn’t know how good they were. Time passed dad got another preaching job in Beaumont, Texas, and I lost touch with Haze. Of course I thought of him, but new places, new people, new friends happened.
   Years passed, we grew up, I wondered whatever happened to my friend Haze. One day, I took a vacation and decided to go back to Alexandria. I drove by the old Elementary school, and Radio Tower Hill, where we as kids had gone down on sleds, nearly killing some by-standers. I went to our old home where my brother Ed had lost seven teeth thanks to riding on my back part way down the stairs. (He fell the other half way down.)
   Next door was my friend Haze’s house. I went and knocked on the door. His mother came to the door and at first did not recognize me. I said. “It’s me, Jack” (she called me Jackie then) of course she was happy to see me. I walked in and we sat together in a living room where Haze and I once had spent time together playing when it was rainy outside. “Where is Haze?” I asked. His mother’s face changed, it seemed that the joy just left her face. Haze was an only son, and was her pride and joy. He had grown up, was drafted to go to Vietnam. “Did he make it back?” I asked. She said that he did.
 She told me that Haze had come home from the war, and received the “welcome” that so many others received. “For months, he was terribly depressed” she said. Then the terrible news, “Soon after that he committed suicide.” My friend was dead, and I never knew. Sometimes I wonder what he thought, and why life had been so dark for him. Where was the justice in all this? Fighting a war that few supported. Seeing friends die beside him. Perhaps he wondered why he was spared.
   The emptiness in my heart is hard to explain when I think of Haze. He deserved better, they all did, and do. The pain of Vietnam, I never knew because I was passed over, but it still hurts. That is why when I meet Vets, I say, “Thank you, thank you for what you did”.
 I never got to say good bye to Haze, but August 28, 2010 my wife (Wiwik) and I along with some dear friends, went to the “Restoring Honor” rally in Washington, DC, I walked up to “The Wall” and laid my hands on the hallowed stone, and said “Thank you”, and “good-bye Haze”, my friend.
   “Honor to whom honor is due.”

 

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