I feel done.

There's a lot happening in my life - and then again there is not. 

I have never felt so alone. My world is work and caring for an anxious dog and a chilled cat. 

There are days... bad days- emotion rolls over me like unexpected giant waves at a beach. 

I know it'll be over soon enough - but I am getting tired of the beat down the world have given. 

Yes there are positives ... there are amazing positives...  But it's hard to see them when you're being rolled over by a wet, deep, suffocating darkness. 

How does one close a chapter that you once thought was the best of your life?  

Just take care right?  Take care of me. 

Self care is not only OK it is tolerated and encouraged.  

But to do it means they'll know I need it. 

Is that pride, or fear? 

Tell me. 

Please.

Archived News Story: Search continues for 2 crew members in Navy plane crash

 

UPI ARCHIVES

AUG. 18, 1985

Search continues for 2 crew members in Navy plane crash

TOKYO -- Rescue crews Sunday searched for two missing crewmen from a U.S. Navy plane that plunged into the northern Arabian Sea while trying to land at night on the aircraft carrier Midway.

Ed Evans, spokesman for the U.S. Forces in Japan, said three crew members of the plane -- an E-2C Hawkeye early-warning aircraft -- were rescued from the water after the plane crashed during the landing attempt Saturday. It was not known whether they were injured.

Evans said search and rescue teams were looking for two missing crewmen, whose identities were not revealed.

The Midway operates out of a base in Yokosuka, about 25 miles southwest of Tokyo. Evans said the plane crashed during a 'routine' night operation.

40th Anniversary of the crash of Liberty 603

 

Liberty 603, and E2C Hawkeye part of the Liberty Bells Squadron VAW-115 crashed at 0200 on 17 August 1985.

Of the seven people aboard, five were rescued.

Haven’t seen you in almost 40 years!

With a whim of an idea to find a digital version of my ships cruise book, I discover a website with cruise books for just about every navy ship that’s sailed in the last 70 years. Suddenly, it’s not the Towers I want to find, but the carrier USS Midway. Maybe - I thought - just maybe the squadrons are included. As clicked through the pages I saw his name, Kuhnigk, and then saw his entire face for the first time. 

The U.S. Naval Aviator in this photo is one of my guys. A Navy Aviator  whose name I never knew until I started this journey not that long ago. 

August 17, 2025 will be the 40th anniversary of the crash of Liberty 603, and the loss of Lt. Kuhnigk, and Ensign Christopher Mims. 

If I’m to believe what I’ve turned up on the internet, Kuhnigk was one of the two in the cockpit, likely the co-pilot. Chris Mims was in the tech area of the aircraft in the rear. So this means it's likely Kevin is one of the men I saw in the plane, unconscious, water at their chests and rising. 

The co-pilot, Kevin Kuhnigk - is still out there. 

Fair winds my brother. Someday I will visit your granite memorial in California and leave a quarter, some tears, and a firm salute. But we will talk first. Not that we haven't done that a lot already, but somehow, standing there, I think it will feel different.

Finding this cruise book page led to a couple other discoveries. Memorial lists of all the Midway sailors lost durring a deployment in those years. My years. The years USS Towers was assigned to the Midway Battle Group.

The memorial pages contain the names of shipmates, pilots, air crewmen, and shipboard sailors, those who were lost to an accident of some kind, and those that either fell, or were so troubled they stepped overboard intentionally under cover of darkness. 

Each name on the list represents 3-days of SAR efforts by escort ships and aircraft.  We never found what we were looking for, but we wouold find their 'things.' 

Step one - to me - they are no longer nameless young men who were lost at sea. They are Steven Seitz, Christopher Hayes, and John Payton. 

 

Now in the next cruise book (below), there are more names. These are the ones I feel closer to - responsible for because in these years I was a surface rescue swimmer and not only searched with my eyes from the deck of USS Towers, but I also swam to anything and everything that could be related to what we were looking for. 

 

On one swim I retrieved a helmet of a sailor who was blown off Midway's flight deck, I also retrieved pieces of F-18's, pieces of gear, but never the person. The ocean it seems, just wants to hold on to them.

Reading the names now makes me wonder why.  Some were clearly aviators and lost in incidents with their aircraft. But not until the last few years could I process what would cause a shipboard sailor to simply "step off" their ship in the night. The circumstance of what sent them into the water isn't important - finding them in time and getting them back was the goal. We tried. I tried. We tried to bring you home. 

And with this new information fresh in my brain there is no sleep, as now there are names and stories for each of them - and their families - that I’ll never know.

And no, I do not believe I’ll try to learn more. It won’t change the fact that they’re all gone. 

 

These men were different. I never saw them alive... and I was always ready to swim to get them and bring them home. 

 

It's when you see them alive - and are not able to go get them - like with Liberty 603 - that haunts your thoughts for the rest of your life. 

 

After the Liberty 603 incident, I requested to be sent to Pilot Rescue Swimmer School.

 

I graduated in the top 3. 

I had many swims from Towers after that, none of them allowed me to use all my training. I never had the chance to deal with a pissed off pilot who just crashed his plane. Never had to cut a parachute loose at sea, just in training. Never had to dunk a combative pilot, or treat w wound before rescue. No faces - but today I have names.

 

Now, as for Liberty 603, Ensign Mims, I will continue trying to find your photo and more of your story as well as Kevin’s. 

 

Of all the men lost and mentioned here - I only saw the two of them - and it’s my mission to learn all I can and share the story so that more people realize the price of freedom often is paid in the mundane readiness of training. 

I will not let you be forgotten or abandoned.

 

Rest easy... I have the watch. 

 

Thank You Anonymous

I learned something new about the fate of the crew of the Liberty 603 aircraft incident today.  I learned it from a reader of this blog. So if you are reading this and you have first hand knowledge, please please share that. Even if you post as this person did, anonymously.  So for nearly 40 years I had thought both the pilot and co-pilot were rescued. You see while I know the names of the two we lost that night, I do not know their roles on that mission.  So when an anonymous commenter shares that one of the men in the cockpit was rescued and the other was not, that changes things. It also means that four of the five in the back got out. 

It probably doesn't seem like much, but it re-shuffles the pieces, the sequence of how it all unfolded. 

My window of seeing this aircraft was not a long one. Long enough and yet not. 

Any and all pieces of the puzzle help. 

Thank you anonymous commenter.  

The Search for More Information

Below is a note from John Clubb, about his friend Ensign Chris Mims an OCS classmate and shipmate. Mims was aboard Liberty 603, an E2C Hawkeye, when it crashed into the sea during night flight ops from the USS Midway in the early morning hours of August 17th 1985.

In 2014 I stumbled on John's writing about his friend from OCS while digging around on the internet to learn anything I could about what happened that night, and more about who these men were. First, it was the USS Midway mention and how he could not look at it - that caught my eye. When I saw the name 'Mims,' I paused, I was about to learn more about at least one of the men we lost that night.

For those who don't know, I was fairly new aboard the USS Towers, and was rousted out of my rack in the middle of the night by someone shouting, "get on deck, aircraft down, rescue stations..." or something like that. I don't think I truly woke up until I stepped through the hatch and saw something that my mind wrested with processing. An E2C aircraft afloat next to the ship, seemingly close enough to touch. What took a moment longer to process was two men still in the plane, water chest deep. They were unconscious.

Fast forward through the drama of the minutes that followed. Five of the seven men aboard that plane were rescued, two were lost, Chris Mims and Kevin Kuhnigk. Both were lost and presumed dead, their bodies never found.

Kevin was a high school football star from Nebraska. A headstone located in Bakersfield CA, marks an empty grave. His mother died a few years later, and is buried near his headstone at a cemetery in Bakersfield CA. His father lived until the early 200's. I have not been able to find more than that.

In 2014, while digging for information on Chris Mims, I found a post from John Clubb, Chris' AOCS classmate. I sent an e-mail, and we connected and later talked on the phone through tears a few times.

Here is what he wrote about his AOCS classmate and friend, Chris Mims:

“It's been thirty years now Chris. Jack, Pat and I still miss you. Jack can't drive by the Midway without turning his head away because to look at her is to be reminded of his lost brother. I've reached out to Pat and he won't return my phone calls. I don't take it personally because I know that to talk to me would bring his own pain crashing back into his life. Heartbreak by association. To look at us you would have never believed Kentucky, Texas and South Carolina boys would adopt an obnoxious Brooklyn boy as their brother. But we did and then we lost one of the best parts of our new family. In the crucible of naval aviation training our bond was formed in sweat and stress and it can't be broken. Pat will come around someday and we will pick up where we left off. Jack is quiet. I forgave you for leaving me. They still struggle. My first real and true brother. We've been mad not because of us but because we wanted you to still be here with us. Older paunchy men talking about the glory days and still busting on each other like we did in Jack's BOQ room every Friday night. We wanted you here to share our lives with you. Good, bad and ugly. We were loyal to each other and we still are."

"With God's weird sense of humor I can only imagine he put you in charge of his docks and his boats. But knowing you, you're wearing a bright yellow life vest just in case you fall into the water. You won't take it off until you with your New York sense of mistrust get it in writing that you won't drown again."

"Thirty years is a long time for the waves of pain to still come crashing into my psyche. I think it's finally done then I walk down to the Midway in San Diego and I think about you in that big ocean at night alone and the tears start again. I won't go onboard the Midway yet. To stand where your airplane left the deck for the very last time would be too much. Maybe someday."

"There is lots to laugh about in my memories of you. The nasally irritating voice, the inability to drive because you grew up on subways and city busses, the insistence on driving while all of us hung on for dear life. The way you and Jack went at it with your baseball and football team loyalty. We would give anything to have that again. We will be together again and we will in unison yell, 'shut up Mims'. Until then watch over us.”

I told John that Chris was not alone that night. Everyone aboard Towers was there, ready to rescue and silently praying they'd find a way out.

I have since learned all of us there that night carry a piece of Liberty 603 within us. Some days it hurts more than others.

Hurt because we were not able to bring them aboard.

Hurt because, despite knowing why we couldn't do more - we will always feel like we should have.

Fair winds and following seas Kevin & Chris.

I write this and created this so that it does live on - somehow to be found my some, or many some day in the future and their names and story will survive.

Not all American military losses happen in combat. Some are lost while standing on the front line of freedom.

The cost of our freedom is extraordinarily high, it always has been and always will be.

Those who have seen that price paid in person will never forget, nor should any American.

Some Days….

 ...are a struggle.

I just want to quit dealing with people and their crap. 

Once you are pinned down in life and death choices,  and have to live with what you did in that moment all this other crap seems so ridiculous. 

All I want to do is run away with my love and live life, be free and experience sights, sounds and feelings of awe and appreciation. Quietly.

The fact that I can't, and need to continue getting up and going to work - and continue to have to be there for others... when all I want is to be there for her and for me - and our family.  

Not punching a clock, or answering to others needs.    

It’s so freaking frustrating to reach a certain age and still be beholden to economic and societal structures just to pay bills for things that I really don’t want anyway. 

And some of these people… I just want to punch them in the throat. 

They're all twisted up for the most ridiculous reasons. 

Relax already.  

Damn I’m tired. 

Riding a Wave

I am not a surfer, but I do kayak and know the feeling of riding a wave well. It’s fun and exhilarating as well as a tad bit dangerous all at the same time. My secret that I share today is that every day I feel this way. 

I’m incredibly lucky, I have an amazing wife and partner, great kids and grandkids, and my dream job all here in my 6th decade of life. I’m grateful for that, I am. But I’m also fully aware that I am riding this wave and thus while joyful about the life I have, I am also awaiting the moment of that inevitable crash where the wave gets the best of me. 

Life frustrates the crap out of me these days. I want to relax and enjoy life - yet I have to keep working just to afford the life we have. It’s probably a good thing. If I stop working then the balance I have on this wave right now would likely be lost and that equals a crash.  Yet trying my hardest to have fun now - the crash thought is always there. 

Starting in childhood I struggled with not being good enough to deserve what I have. Made worse by a military experience that includes the ugly reality of certain situations.I find some ground knowing that everyone struggles to some degree with something. Well, most do.

My fear these days is I’m getting so tired of the juggling and the demands of time. Time, my time. Yet I’ve given away so much of it over those 60 years - and now I am taking control of it.  But will it help? Will it keep me balanced on this wave? Or will it throw me off?   

I’m tired. I’m tired of doctors. I’m tired of paying bills and mostly I’m tired of people outside my small personal circle imposing demands on my time. 

So change is in the air.  I’ll keep a paddle in the water as I try to navigate spending more time alone with me. It’ll be a gradual process - since that’s the only way to not tumble from the crest and get dragged through the sand on the beach. 

Deep breath. 

Lets go. 

I just heard this...

 

It took my grandchildren for me to realize this. 

Loud noises, expected or other, but especially yelling and screaming are a trigger for me. 

I love these kids. They are two boys 6 and 8 years old. Yes it gets loud and yes there is screaming. To them it is fun. I have been incredibly grumpy about it - I know it - and they know it.  

 

My realization started during the super bowl, at their house. The TV was incredibly loud, and the boys were having a great time, mom, dad and grandma were all jumping in to play with them from time to time, the laughter, the shouting, the TV, and me? I was overwhelmed and pretty much unable to engage with anyone. I tried, but I felt like I was on an island. Was I the only one unable to function because of this?  I so wanted to shout - QUIET! But I couldn't. It wasn't my house and everyone else was behaving as if it was all OK.  Mental note made. I have an issue with noise. 

 

Last week, in a meeting at work the team started to discuss and debate a point in a meeting and it was talking, and people talking over other people and to me it seemed like madness,  I jumped in to stop it, to stop the noise, with a voice I thought was required to get their attention. It got their attention but from the looks on their faces - maybe I was too loud? Maybe I was out of line.

 

Days later someone referred to it as when I yelled at them. I certainly didn't think I yelled at them. But hey, OK, whatever, their truth is, I did and I can't and wont argue that.

A few days later we hosted a large educational event for middle school kids at an indoor pool. I found I could barely stand to be in the pool area because of the noise. The echo. Clearly this is me, as there are dozens of other adults here and they are just fine. 

 

I took a break to the meeting room where a team was being judged while they did a presentation. Moments later another group of students burst through the door and started grabbing their things and leaving. I went to the door, asked them to get their things and leave as there was a team in here doing their presentation and they deserved not to be interrupted. Later I was told they reported to a member of my staff that I had "yelled" at them. I asked another staffer that was present it I yelled, and they kind of rolled their eyes. Shit. Seriously, am I having angry outbursts and not realizing it? In my mind it's not angry, and I'm not yelling. But if they see it as that - then my perception is clearly wrong.

Now the grand boys are here for an overnight. I am stand-off-ish, Then the inevitable scream happens and in that millisecond - as I draw breath - I can see scenes from decades of my reactions to my boys (I had two of them 14 years apart).  My go-to reaction has always been to shout back, louder and with anger.  Boys, one reminder isn't going to accomplish much - so there are more - and my anger would often explode. I caught myself, and said, Hey Opa asked for no screaming.

In that moment of last night's scream and ensuing flashbacks of angry outbursts and extreme discomfort in loud environments - the realization is that my reaction is out of line, not the scream. 

Like at the super bowl gathering, I remain quiet. I asked that there be no yelling, and when they did, I reminded them of their saying they would not yell. It made a better evening experience for me - but not for them, and that's when two things hit me. 

 

Why is my reaction what it is, and I had done this to my sons and my partners for decades. I have over reacted in anger to noise. Consistently.  Which has a funny side as my sailor hearing is pretty bad and I often take to leaving my hearing aids out as to keep the noise level lower. I hate wearing them because they amplify everything. So simply wearing them takes me instantly to another level of stress. But hey, there's work and I have to do what I have to do. 

 

So this morning I start reading about noise and PTSD because I question if it could really be the trigger that it seems to be. I find a lot, including;

Heightened Anxiety and Panic Attacks

For someone with PTSD, difficulty tolerating sounds means that loud noises can cause an immediate spike in anxiety levels. The brain perceives the noise as a threat, flooding the body with stress hormones like adrenaline. This response can escalate into a full-blown panic attack, marked by rapid heart rate, shortness of breath, sweating, and a feeling of impending doom.

Sleep Disturbances and Sound Sensitivity

Loud noises can interfere with the sleep of PTSD sufferers, further exacerbating symptoms. Sudden sounds during the night can jolt individuals awake, leading to nightmares or an inability to fall back asleep. Over time, these sleep disturbances worsen mental and physical health, contributing to chronic fatigue, irritability, and heightened stress.

Emotional Dysregulation

Loud noises often provoke an emotional response and emotional dysregulation in individuals with PTSD, meaning they may struggle to control their emotions when triggered. A simple noise that may be insignificant to others can cause an extreme emotional reaction, such as anger, sadness, or overwhelming fear. This emotional imbalance affects relationships, work, and overall quality of life.

Heightened anxiety, and emotional dysregulation with an anger or fearful response. 

Could that be my trigger?  I'm not comfortable in loud environments - not. ever.  Even a concert with music I like makes me incredibly nervous, but I push through. It's not the expected noise, it is the sudden, unexpected, surprise loud noises that don't belong in that environment that trigger me. 

 

If we're in the house and someone suddenly yells or screams - I'm overloaded and just want it to stop.  Knowing it can happen again at any time - with no notice, now I'm ratcheted up nervous just waiting for it. That - NEVER ends well. 

 

So I read more. Now I know. Now I am aware. 

Now I am filled with regrets from a lifetime of subjecting the people closest to me to my angry responses. 

 

To my sons and their moms, I am incredibly sorry. To that one grandson who took a sailor's full on brunt anger response one night - I apologize again.

 

So now I know. Now I have to manage it, work through it.  Learn to live and keep this part of me in check.  The good news is over the last 24 hours with the grand boys - I did manage it. But I was too disconnected from them. I want to be closer and do more with them like I once did. 

 

I will get there just like with the rest of this journey, one step at a time.   

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = 

 

Associations matter: Your brain can form strong connections between seemingly unrelated stimuli and the emotions of a traumatic event, meaning even a sound not directly present during the trauma can trigger a reaction if it reminds you of the experience in some way. 

 

Hypervigilance: People with PTSD often have heightened sensitivity to their surroundings, which can make them more susceptible to being triggered by loud noises, even if those noises wouldn't bother someone without PTSD. 

 

Individual triggers vary:

What triggers one person with PTSD may not trigger another, and triggers can even change over time.

 

Listen... Know that help is out there. You need to show that strength you had in uniform and reach for it. You owe it to yourself and those who care about you. You deserve to live. You deserve happiness.

===================

My event. Yes there was yelling. I didn't really realize how intense that yelling was. I was standing alongside the swimmer who was ready to go.  My chief was next to him and behind Chief O'Connor was the sound powered phone talker. The Chief had requested to put the swimmer in the water via the phone talker... and was denied. Twice. Chief O'Connor lost it, and got angry, yelling at the phone-talker with a request to put the swimmer in the water.The phone-talker passed it all along. The answer was again, "Negative."

O'Connor grabbed the microphone off the chest of the phone-talker and yelled the request himself into the mic. As he let go, the Captain stepped out on the bridge wing and looked down at us, Chief looked up, and shouted - "God Damn it captain, request to put the swimmer in the water!"  The response from the captain includes a line that is in the movie Top Gun2 and was a surprise trigger for me . . . "NEGATIVE CHIEF, WE WILL NOT PUT A SWIMMER IN THE WATER UNLESS THEY MOVE - WE WILL NOT LOSE ANOTHER MAN HERE TONIGHT!" 

In case you're wondering, it's the "We will not lose another man" line that's in the movie. The moment I heard it, my stomach turned into knots, and I felt my body tense up and that dark cloud of sadness swept in.

It happened in seconds, maybe hald a minute.. and I always thought I never had a PTSD "trigger" - but clearly that line from the movie was one - and unexpected yelling seems to be another. 

 

I see a great therapist the VetsCenter in Green Bay.  If you think you have PTSD - ask for help, get help. 

It's the only way to learn how to push the darkness away when it comes. I am just now starting to see what can bring it. so If I am out in front of it - perhaps - perhaps - I can do better at staying away from it - or managing it when it's upon me.  You can do that too.

Numb Sometimes

I’m told it’s a lot to take in. That cancer diagnosis. Especially when you hear a lifetime of how cancer needs to be aggressively attacked. Now to know it’s there, inside me - but we’re going to watch and see what it does. 

I get that this is a good thing. Or at least my mind does. But my emotional state has been scrambled ever since. 

I have new meds - both to address the PTSD and to address the prostrate issues. I went from 2-pills a day to seven. My prescription bottles line up like the ones my dad had on his dresser when we cleaned his room after he died. 

I’m 28 years younger than he was, and I’ve caught up to him on med bottles. Damn. 

The new cocktail of pills has side effects - trying to understand them… which ones are normal, and are any of them not. Holy hell, is this a side effect or a symptom? Oh, you know what? Take another anxiety med because it’s all stressing me out. 

My focus is limited at best. 

Why do I have to wait and see if this stuff comes after me?  I do because if we go after it with radiation or surgery - my life permanently changes. Although, it already has. Even if it sits and doesn’t attack me, I’ll have tests the rest of my life to be sure that’s the case. I’m not complaining. I know there are people who have far bigger challenges than the one I face. Just damn it - I didn’t want, or need this at this point in my life. Trying to do the last stage planning for retirement … and now there’s a medical wrench in the mix. 

Yes, today I’m down. Seeing all the cancer stuff durring NFL games today pushed my buttons to tell my friends what’s happening. I appreciate what the NFL is doing - but this reminder wasn’t on my schedule… but I’ll roll with it. 

I told them I don’t want their prayers and I don’t want their sympathies. What I want is for the guys over 55 in my circle to make sure they’re getting a PSA test. It’s a blood draw. Knowledge is power and if you sit back and don’t seek to know - it can spread and make your life miserable, or worse. 

So there. That’s why I posted on my social media about it. Take control and monitor your PSA levels. 

I’m a little angry. A little sad and not really looking forward to a prolonged fight of any kind.  This waiting, watching and testing works for now. I hope that’s all it ever is. 

I’m a bit self centered right now, but I’m told I’m allowed to be and while that may be true - it doesn’t feel right. 

I am kind of scrambled at the moment. 

Looking forward to my group this week. 

I need it. 

and the answer is….

Just to add a pinch of drama to this whole thing an hour before my doctor’s appointment to hear what the pathology report is from the biopsy, the office calls and says, “we don’t have the report back from the lab yet, so we need to move your appointment out three days.”  But what if the results come in later today or tomorrow? “We will try to work you in before hand if the results come in early.” 

The waiting anxiety is now granted a three day extension. 

And half an hour later the results are posted to the patient portal, meaning I can see them if I want. Well, how can I not look? I have to look. I texted my wife and opened the portal and there they are - all I have to do is click on the green button to see if I have cancer or not. 

My mouse arrow lingered for a moment, I was going to remember the next 15-seconds for a very long time and I wanted to get steady while I told myself it will be negative. 

Click. 

I have cancer. 

Now, the beauty of it all is I - I should say - we, have a couple days to doc google everything and build a list of questions. 

Also good that it appears to have been caught very early and low grade, with no indication of spread. So this is doable. We do recognize however, that it will impact the rest of our lives in some way.  

The good news is we can live with that. 

Note:

Where my head is… it’s an ok place…  strength comes from being neck deep in this life with the most amazing partner, lover and friend, a person could wish for. (And a great circle of friends). 

Waiting game

 

It’s a fact of life right? The older you get the more health issues pop up. Like an old ship, there are creeks and groans that years of west and tear cause. The older you are the more the symphony of these sounds echos through your day-to-day. Check-ups a year ago included blood work. Bloodwork that showed a rise in a certain number. So doc says we will revisit in six months with more lab work. Well, we did and the number was higher.  So now let’s get an MRI. Well, that’s not showing us much, we let it ride six more months and get more lab work. The number is even higher.

We meet, talk options. We can give it six more months and see where we are or we can do a biopsy and find out if there are cancer cells in there. 

Biopsy. Please. 

Unpleasant as it was, the bigger gut check is now the wait. Five days until we meet in person to go over the results. 

Hey, if it’s cancer it’s one that can be easily beaten. But the idea that I’m waiting to find out if I have cancer… well, Thais sucks!  I know there are tens of thousands (likely more) who are also waiting for similar results.  Damn.  There is a great deal of pain out there. Even if this is “C” I’m in better shape than most and it’s treatable so… fingers crossed. 

Managed it well

 The anniversary certainly had its moments, but overall lighter than years past for certain. Of course one reason likely was I happen to have an appointment with my Vets Center therapist on the day of the anniversary. Which gave it an outlet for conversation with immediate feedback with my being challenged to speak how this year was better. 

First, allow myself time to be sad. It’s a sad day. 

Second, say to myself what they would say to me. You remembered, thank you. Now breathe in, breathe out and move ahead.

Lastly, do something productive, fun or relaxing today. Something that honors them and myself.  

A rather simple playbook to a complex day of emotions, but it worked. 

The journey continues. 

Here it comes. They are close & there is more

 

The amazing place I work has one huge drawback. Each year, around the first full week of August we have a week long festival of sorts and usually work 13 or so days in a row. In addition it is “sea service” related, so there is a lot of interaction with active duty local Coast Guard personnel. So that feeling of “shipmates” is rekindled and it’s impossible to ignore, especially when you’re exhausted. 

 

Yesterday was my first day “off” in two weeks and I slept late, played with the dogs, napped, mowed the lawn, stayed up late watching a movie and slept late again. 

It’s “that week.”

39 years later. 

Yes, I’ve made progress. Solid progress. I am not so deep in darkness that giving up my life would resolve anything. But damn it hurts. They are faceless and yet not. Arround this time each year they feel damn close. So close. Just like they were 39 years ago. I assume they now know all of us who played a part in their fate that night. I know they hold no grudge about it. I also know I’m not alone.  Captain Fairchild certainly took this memory with him. I’m sure he met both aviators and embraced them on behalf of all Towers crew there that night. 

I’ve started to wonder why the two people I knew well, who stood alongside me on deck that night, can’t seem to be located. The swimmer who was ready to go in, and our Chief, who demanded permission to put the swimmer in the water. The three of us were alone in that space, at that moment at 2AM in the middle of the Indian Ocean looking at a plane sinking. Where are they?  

Who was OOD and CON that night? I have no doubt all of us are somehow different because of that night. We all handle things differently. 

I have talked with a shipmate who was there that night working below deck in main engine control. He remembers clearly the drama he heard on coms, and is grateful he was below deck. Even still, that night is clear in his memory. 

I pray I’m not the only one who sought help in dealing with this experience. I know it impacted everyone there. My fear is  those closest may have been overcome by the darkness of it. I truly hope they’re ok. That they have taken full advantage of life instead of giving in to the darkness. 

In working through this I can see how taking full advantage of life is paying tribute to the ones we lost that night. They’d want us to take that trip we’ve been putting off. They want us to have adventures and new experiences. 

Which is why when the hard first week of August rolls into my life, I want to flee. I question how long I will continue to work full-time and deny myself - and my wife - the adventure and experience is breathing in and making the most of our lives. 

Breathe. Long slow breaths. Allow yourself to grieve a little for their lost, and be sure to do what they’d want you to do. Breathe in - and take those first few steps toward adventure while you still can.  It’s the only way to truly find freedom from the weight and continue forward; which is what our departed shipmates want us to do. Keep moving forward. 

Starting to “feel” different (with an UPDATE)

When things are good, they’re great! Things have not ever been quite like this. For more than two years I’ve had the incredible support of an amazing human being. Their confidence in me has given me strength I didn’t know I had. This person is my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, my soulmate, my girlfriend, and my wife. Her strength is removing barriers, giving me permission to lower mine, and be vulnerable. She builds me up, and encourages me to - above all else - to feel.  To allow myself the experience of truly feeling the emotions buried deep inside my soul. 

So I did. With great therapy and a safe, caring place to heal - I am starting to feel like there is room for so much more than I have allowed.  There is room for trust. There is room for me, and there is room to share it all with her, and actually feel. To feel worthy of appreciation. Worthy of having pain. Worthy of being loved, and above all, worthy of living. 

When someone says their wife has shown them the door, it usually means something far different than it means to me. My bride, my best friend, has shown me the door, and encouraged me to finally walk through it and face the demons waiting there. 

Thank you my love. 

-----------------------------UPDATE MARCH 6, 2026----------------------------

My love showed herself the door and left. 

She encouraged me to take journey, but the encouragement alone wasn't enough. 

I believe each of our own complex traumatic childhoods are the roots of how we each deal with stressors and anxiety in our lives. Over the last eight to nine months I was needing to vent, and get things out - and all she could do was shut down. She could encourage, but she could not engage for the long haul - or maybe she could have - if I had just given her the chance. If I had felt secure enough to say out loud what I was thinking - and what I was needing. Maybe.. But we will never know. 

I need connection when I am anxious. If the person closest to me is shut down, I grow even more anxious. 

I have felt horrible and one night, after another evening meal of no meaningful conversation I was literally sick, dizzy and feeling odd.  I took my blood pressure and it was 210/118.  I was in the midst of a full blown panic attack - and began to hyper ventilate. 

I remembered how to calm myself down, and got it under control. I also took a blood pressure pill that I realized I had forgotten to take earlier.  I googled that BP and it said, "go to the emergency room." 

She walked through the bedroom and asked what my BP was. I told her, and told her the google suggestion. She never stopped walking and as she passed me to leave the room she said, "then you should go." 

I never felt so alone or abandoned. Where was my partner in this life?  

Weeks later I came home and she was packed, sitting by the door with the remnants of a drink in her hand. She said she was leaving, we'd be getting a divorce. 

If you are reading this saying - there's got to be more to this than what's here - you are correct. But it's not your business. So it stays with us. 

Bottom line is she is gone. Both our hopes and dreams shattered because we didn't know how to get by the walls we built as kids. Neither of us made it easier on the other - not by intention - but in how we handled it. 

How despite talking the talk about honesty, we could not find our way there. The moment things got hard we retreated to places of safety or comfort. 

Now the divorce is nearly final and the couple that thought for sure they finally had it right - are now alone and trying to heal. 

This one hurts.  

There have been moments - where - you know what, I don't want to go on. 

But I don't do it - not for me, but for my kids, and to not lay that on her. 

I have wrestled that demon for decades. I should care about me, and I struggle to do that consistently. 

If you feel that way too - then it's just part of the process. 

Part of healing. 

Part of moving on. 

Part of being alive. 

and part of falling in love. 

Lost Bracelet

 My Amazing wife gave me a “hold fast” bracelet last year.  I didn’t wear it often, as the reminder on my wrist was just too much to take all day, every day. But as my experience at the VetCenter continued, and my healing took root, I recently found myself wearing it every day. I plan to get it engraved with a reference to the incident. 

Suddenly, like someone far older than I am, I’ve lost it. I can’t find the bracelet. 

It’s now the 4th of July and the fireworks are booming outside. Yet another celebration unseen by Liberty 603. 

Or is it?

They see it. They see it from another perspective, one we - or shall I say, “I” - don’t yet understand. 

Kevin and Chris, we should know each other better for having a connection lasting this long!  

I salute you both, and look forward to hearing your side of the story of that night. 

Someday. On your side of things. 

I know you’re good with that taking longer … 

Thank you. 

Happy 4th of July. 

UPDATE: About a week later I found the bracelet. 

Another Memorial Day

It’s a little different this year. I’m trying hard to not let all the darkness rush in. It’s a little easier because we took our two young grandson’s camping!  The constant needs of a 5 and 7 year old fill the space, the air and the brain.  They’re really great boys.  Funny and smart. Their dad spent time in the Army.  He, like every solid veteran, downplays his service. He’s done that in front of me and today when Oma (I’m Opa) asked the boys if they knew what Memorial Day was? They did not.  She explained that some people who are in the military die while doing their jobs, and this is the weekend (and day) that we honor them.  

She said, your Opa was in the Navy, he was lucky and got to come home.  I said, and your dad was in the Army and he got to come home too.  So we remember those who didn’t. 

They said, ya, but dad wasn’t in a war.  He wasn’t in a fight.  No, but he was in a uniform and he did lots of training and he went to other countries to keep them safe and free. 

Oh. I didn’t know that.  I’m glad he was lucky to. 

Me too boys. Me too. 

Why so little…

 

Time. 

It’s real

And it’s constantly ticking away.  In the last few months I’ve completed two months of group therapy at the Vets Center. It was based on creative writing and it was incredibly insightful for me, and gave me some credibility in my own mind. 

After all, in the back of my

Head for 30+ years has been a feeling of not being worthy of feeling traumatized and heavily impacted by my Navy experience. A previous girlfriend who I opened up to once about PTSD responded; “how can you have that? You were never in a war.” 

It was then I realized #1, she did not understand me, and never would. But it also reinforced that fear, that I had no business seeking help. I wasn’t ever in combat, I never faced kill or be killed. I was in fear for my life more than a few times, as well as in the middle of unfortunate events where people died, but in none of those was anyone shorting at me. 

In group we had veterans of Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and me. 

In one writing assignment we wrote about how we wish our thematic experiences had turned out.  

I wrote about being deployed as a rescue swimmer to a pilot who had crashed and how I used my training to calm the pilot down, get him to allow me to pull him to safety.  My last line was something along the lines of, I never had the chance to use that training.  Of all the times I was deployed in the water, not once was I able to engage a survivor. 

I never got to use that part of my training on how to deal with an upset, injured, angry pilot. Never. 

The Vietnam veteran, a Marine who had described seeing some of his friends vaporized by mines and artillery, looked dead at me, and said, “wow, that sucks, and that’s gotta be hard.”  When he said that I got emotional, it was, for me, kind of an acceptance into the brotherhood of military PTSD. 

To feel accepted and be validated by these guys, was truly overwhelming.  I could finally accept for myself  that what I was experiencing was valid. 

Why do we do that to ourselves?  Why do we question our right to feel a certain way? 

I don’t know why I did. 

But I know now, I don’t have to question it - I am allowed to feel however I feel.  Whether validated by brothers or not. 

It was yet another step in this journey. 

Every day is, but with this knowledge each step can be a little more productive than the last. 

 

Alone Time Raises the Volume on Negativty

This is the longest I have been away from my wife since we've been together. 

It's nearly a week into it and I have done literally nothing.  I put clothes in the dryer and did a fast run through a grocery store so I'd have something to make bachelor food from.  So, I guess that's something. 

Tomorrow is Easter and kids and grandkids are coming to the house to see me. The place is a mess, and I am sitting here not liking living with this me. 

I know it's not good to not like yourself, so I don't want to not like myself, but I'm a mess. 

A few minutes ago I broke down. I miss my dog that I lost a year ago more than I miss my dad. What a statement that is huh? 

We bought a camping trailer in hopes that we make time to get away together - just the two of us... and I'm scared we won't do it enough to make it worthwhile. 

There is so much to do around here and the job takes SO MUCH time away from home life. Uhg. 

But we will attack this one piece at a time. 

It's Saturday and I have to go to work and take care of a project.  Once that it done I can focus on cleaning up this mess in the house and getting some shopping done so that we can have an Easter tomorrow. 

I deeply miss the company of my best friend, my confidant, my biggest supporter.  She constantly reminds me of the good in me.  This week has shown me that I do not do a good job of that.  I let the negative rule and then have this desire to act out in a way to punish myself, or put myself at risk.  

I chose not to do that today. 

I'm going to work. Step one. 

When that's complete - I'll tackle this house and celebrate that success. 

We'll see how this goes. 

2024 Kicks off with lots of mixed emotions

 

What a start.  I have been neglecting this blog, somewhat intentionally, maybe. 

In February I lost my father.  he was 89 years old and a career firefighter.  I spent a decade of my life, from age 11 until my 20's without him in my life.  Some of it was out of my hands, and some was in my control - but I didn't know it.  I did what others wanted to keep the peace and as a result lost time with my dad.  Time I will never get back. 

February also was the one year anniversary with my bride, the one.  The one who I have been getting ready for my entire life.  She brings both peace and passion to my life. She's been an incredible breath of fresh air.  I mean that literally.  I was pretty much suffocating myself - until she came along and showed compassion for the me I had been hiding. 

Then my sons lost their maternal grandmother in a house fire.  She was a fantastic woman who at 92 still has at least a decade ahead of her. Such a surreal and sad moment. But within it I saw both my boys strength. They are really good young men and I love them beyond my ability to describe here. 

I started group therapy at the Vets Center and it's been an eye-opener in so many ways - somewhat outwardly, but mostly it's inward facing. 

On a recent therapy visit I was kind of shocked at how well all this was being handled... shocked by my own healthy responses to it all.  I worried that perhaps I was burring a lot. 

I press on. 

Now I don't feel so bad.  I managed to capture the roller coaster month of February in a few paragraphs. 

Insights on myself - there are many. Mostly good.  But there's worry about things I've packed away so well that they'll surprise me. 

Worry may be the wrong word. It implies I am actively waiting for the other show to drop - and I am not.  But I feel it's out there.  

Waiting.

New Year. New Opportunities.

 

Perspective. 

If we can keep it, then it can change our lives. 

Staying positive. 

Tapping into the “get it done” mentality.  Suck it up and start that long pushed off project. You’ll feel much better when it’s done. 

That’s my one and only goal for the new year.  Keep perspective and get up and do it.  

Looking back, 2023 was a year I did get off my backside and address things in my life.  Not home improvement projects but it’s amazing how home has improved because of them. 

Perspective.  

Heads up. Eyes open. 

Let’s go. 

End of the Year Us

A lot has happened in the last 12 months. If you’ve read along here, you’re aware of the bigger things.  What’s been a challenge here at the end is seeing through the cloud of emotions and acknowledging a lot of good things, and positive steps happened in 2024.  Sure, we’re getting down to brass tacks on some. Bigger items, but the great things of 2023 far outweigh the negative, or the challenging.

 First, I got serious about me. Acknowledging the damaged parts of me and the help I need to get that damage under control.  Given how long the darkness had its way with me in this life - it is truly stunning that I am still here. Still pushing forward, still working to make life better for me and those closest to me.  Speaking of those closest to me, I am often stunned at the love that comes my way.  I’ve always felt alone in the world, that people just count on me to provide and I had to endure and make sure we had what we needed. 

Now I see what empathetic love is and how warm it feels.  To be loved - all of me - the light and the darkness… to be fully accepted - and have someone who’s your champion in winning not only the big battles - but sometimes simply winning the hour - or the day. 

Progress no matter how small is still progress, and we celebrate together… and it’s beautiful. 

I worry I can never ensure she knows just how much she’s loved, appreciated and respected. 

A year ago tonight I proposed to her and she said yes.  We were married 55 days later, and the journey has been the best ever. 

Thank you my love, for accepting all of me.  For your patience with me, and for your huge heart that gives me more warmth than I knew was possible. 

2023 had the worst.  The loss of my soul-dog, and the thoughts of joining the 22 a day, and here we are.  Your love. Your embrace of (again) all of me - humbles me. 

I so love you and I so look forward to the great things that are ahead for us! 

I seem to be falling apart. Good sleep hasn't existed in months.  The occasional good six hours keeps me going - but this whole experience is exhausting. 

So this week there are two new health concerns, one - and the one that bothers me the most - involves scarring on my lungs and a fear that it is asbestos related. The process of determining if it's related to asbestos is going to take a while... in the meantime we wait, continue to cough, continue to take steroids, and deal with the stomach shit from that - and wait some more. 

I was looking forward to a VetsCenter counseling appointment this week, but it got pushed to January.  

Why is it that when these appointments get canceled or pushed I fall apart?  

It's exhausting. 

I'm tired. 

I really need to get away, go camping, sit at a fire and just veg until I smell like a half burned log. 

Will I sleep better?  I don't know.  But I'd like to find out. 

Evaluation Reflection

While it took a few days and the bustle of the holidays to get past that evaluation session, I can see that some things happened within it that I hadn’t given mi h thought to. 

When he asked, what did I do with these feelings in the hours and days after the incident?  I paused, and expressed to him that life aboard ship is very busy and there’s not any time to stop and cry, or talk to someone. There’s simply too much happening on a deployed warship and no room for that. 

I did recall talking about what happened with the ship’s swimmer and he told my Chief or my DIV O because within a week of the incident I was given the opportunity to apply to surface rescue swimmer school, and I did. 

I was accepted. 

Well… he asked how’s that go? 

It went exceptionally well.  I outswam pretty much every other candidate in the class.  Was part of the top three of the class and quickly found myself back aboard my ship. 

I had many more opportunities to swim for potential rescues. He asked how many people did I pull out? 

None. 

I explained the ocean is unforgiving and we were never again literally on the spot of an incident, we were always after the fact.  All my swims were recovery of either people of their stuff. 

While that’s not exactly the best news - the fact that my actionable moment - the only thing I could control was to get myself sent to that school so that I would never again be placed in the situation of watching shipmates die… from that point on I had the training and the skills to make sure they came home.

That realization was both refreshing and then dark again - as I wasn’t able to save anyone. Just their things.  

But I did something about it - I became a swimmer. 

Now where and what is my actionable steps to keep the darkness away?  They’re literally everywhere.  From more than 500 hours a year volunteering with the Coast Guard (Auxiliary) for boating safety. To Navy League and veterans efforts around NE Wisconsin. 

It feels good to know back then when it was so fresh - I found an exceptional path forward.  

I continue to do that as best I can. 

It’s all any of us can do. 

Gotta fight through those bad days.  They are unforgiving - but we have to remember we pushed through the hardest time already and we can’t let the darkness take us now. 

We’ve come to far. 

I am (ok, was) as U.S. Navy Surface Rescue Swimmer. It was the hardest thing I ever accomplished - so if I can do that….. 

Evaluation fun

 So the VA pays outside mental health professionals to conduct evaluations to see if what we’re asking for in a PTSD claim is, in fact worthy.

I’m OK with that and was ready and on time, even a bit early for our online discussion. 

While I was prepared - I quickly realized I wasn’t ready for what happened when it ended. 

The 46 minute Q&A session was, well thorough. We talked about every piece of negativity I’ve dealt with for my entire life. Including the times of darkness when I considered suicide.

Needless to say, when the session ended my head was not in the best of places. 

It took me 15 minutes to settle and center myself to open my office door and invite the rest of my work day in. 

I got a few important things done- but wow. 

It’s now 11 hours after and it’s still bothering me. 

So be prepared. 

Recounting your past pain can easily stir things up. 

Good luck. I hope my sharing some insight is helping. 

Unpack this!

 I’m an extraordinarily lucky man to have the best friend I have in my wife. Thoughtful and caring are two of her biggest traits. Honesty is another, and this evening as I talked about some self discoveries made at my VetsCenter appointment, she got quiet. 

She cautiously approached a subject, a thought that occurred to her, and she asked me a simple question. “Do you think it’s possible you are putting many of your negative experiences from childhood and whatever else into this more easily acceptable method to cope?”  

You often say you feel less than worthy to share this horrible event you were a part of. That it somehow was not as big of a deal. Well, if that’s not a big deal then what about the childhood abduction? The name change, and all the drama for decades surrounding one parents extreme dislike of the other.  

Simply put, “are you putting all your pain into this box?” 

((Very long pause))

I don’t think so, but I’ve never thought about it. 

Am I putting all this pain here with Liberty 603? 

After a minute or more I said “I don’t think I am, I mean the leaving of these two aviators to die is a lot bigger and heavier than my life experiences as a child.  So, no. I don’t think that’s the case.”

I have to admit though, it’s an intriguing question. I’ve packed up a lot of negative emotions and experiences over my sixty years, but Liberty 603, Chris and Kevin, are the biggest piece of luggage I carry. 

Still mulling it over… But more and more believe each experience is packed away in its own case.  

It’s the only way to deal with the stuff.  And the idea that I can off-load some of this heaviness from smaller things sooner - helps me focus more on the big heavy one I’m still hauling around. 

So, no. It’s not all packed together to help me process it all.  In fact, it’s best packed away separately to make addressing it simpler. 

What therapy brings isn’t a bellman to carry my bags. But I get coaching on how to carry them all together and deal with the overlapping issues. By doing that I can decrease the number of crates I’m lugging around - eventually - hopefully - especially if we all keep talking, and dealing with it. 

Thank you baby.  Thanks for helping me take a good close look at how I’ve been doing this.  

Why feel less than?

 I arrived a little early for my appointment at the VetCenter. My usual appointment time is late in the afternoon because I have nearly an hours drive from work. But today the appointment was at 10AM.  

I was surprised when I arrived to find the parking and the waiting room nearly full.  I sat in one of two open chairs in the midst of a group of Vietnam Era vets chatting and talking about life.  The guy next to me introduces himself. He was in the army. He asks what branch I served in, I say Navy.  He then asks how long was I in? My mouth let the words “six years” fly out.  

Six? Where did that come from? I guess technically it was six with the inactive reserve time, but we all know I’m a four year sailor.  I know, but in that room, with those guys I felt like I didn’t deserve to even be there.  That’s when it happened. 

Mr. Army guy explains that this is a group, and they meet as a group every Wednesday at 10AM.

“Hey Fuzzy!” Shouts one of the veterans.  My new Army friend shakes Fuzzy’s hand and asks how he’s doing, how his wife is doing.  Fuzzy says, sorry to hear about your wife to the Army guy next to me and he says thanks. 

Army guy turns to me and says, “I recently lost my wife. We were married 52 years.” I’m so sorry to hear that, I say.  

He says, “well, think about joining us on Wednesdays, we have a good time.”  

At that moment my therapist comes up and it’s time for me to go.  “Good to meet you.”  “Sorry to hear about your wife.” He says, “thank you go talk.” 

These guys were all Vietnam guys. 

I share that with my therapist and he asks if I want to join them.  “No.”  I say quickly. 

“Why?” He asks? 

Their experiences and mine are so different. They have so many and more disruptive experiences. Me? I have this one or two things that I had to face. Easy shit compared to what they did. 

He gives me “the look.”  

Then asking why I keep belittling my experience or myself.

Deep breath. 

Value self.  That was one of the very first things we talked about and here I was failing to do that right in front of him. 

I have much to do.  

I can’t imagine trying to do this without his guidance. 

The only thing I know for sure - is without these talks, I may not be here.  There have been some really dark moments and I’ve climbed out of those with the help of two people…

My VA therapist and my wife.  

So now the whole group talk is on the table and perhaps in the new year, I’ll jump into one and see where it goes. Or more correctly see where I go with it. 

It’s a plan.