As you Regular Readers know, I am an old English teacher, which means I am a devotee of literature (and the lost arts of grammar and spelling!).  So whenever a particularly poignant piece of the language imposes itself on my faltering brain, I take notice.

Such an event arrived in the mail last week.  In the pursuit of recognition for my Dear Departed by the intractable Veterans’ Administration, I belong to several national organizations also so dedicated to finding and proving the truth of the service of our military, including the demise of truly dedicated and patriotic volunteers.

A Vietnam veteran named Art Cornelius penned a blank verse lamenting the death in combat of his close friend Sam Deichelmann, a Forward Air Controller who was killed in action in Vietnam Sept. 6, 1968.  On that date, my Dear Departed was safely home in the USA after his tour.  I doubt that he ever knew either of those airmen or, for that matter, even knew about the tribute, which has apparently been buried in the fog of time.  Neither did I until last week.

Forgive me for telling you how to build a clock when all you really wanted was to know the time...but I believe these words are worth repeating:

“In my memory, I carry
The twinkle of your eye, the delight of your laugh,
And the courage that was life, as we expected every day to die.
The red muck stuck
To our boots and tires, the dust to our bodies,
And silver wraiths of mist swirled over and around Green mountains.
Smaller men stood taller and larger than our size,
But you towered over us all, your grin, your tears.
Every orphan was your child; every life a part of yours.
When Chou held on to the thread of life,
You’d have bled for him, breathed for him;
You’d have given your life for him if you could.
We lived each day in fire and air,
And every dawn, life’s croupier spun the wheel again.
And I’d have been a better friend, but I trusted time.
There never was a man more strong, more peaceful,
More fierce, more fair,
And we were proud to love you.
Perhaps one day when the fire is out,
Green mountains will show a flash of gold.
I’ll see the twinkle of your eye
And smile again.

So much of that is descriptive of the state of mind of our warriors in the mess that was Vietnam, and it surely is indicative of our current state of war on foreign shores.  But the operative sentence is: I’d have been a better friend, but I trusted time.

Think about it.  It might not fit exactly with your weekend morning routine.  After all, as we sit around in the kitchen, brew and sip coffee, wrangle breakfast and cope with family, this heavy sentiment might be unwelcomingly invasive.  But isn’t it so true?  How many times have we just gone about our business with nary a significant thought about those others who have made such an important impact on our lives? And how time might cut that opportunity short?

Guilty.  Mea culpa.  This past week, I lost a dear friend from Virginia.  A lovely, caring woman barely into her 50’s.  I, like Cornelius, am wishing I had been a better friend...but I, too, trusted time.

Let’s become more like Art Cornelius.  And let’s take a lesson from his grief.  Hug those close to you.  Value the time (however fleeting it might be) we have with them.  I’m altered by these words.  Please join me.

Cheramy Rusbuldt is a free-lance journalist and regular contributor to the McKinney Courier-Gazette who lives in McKinney’s Historic District.