By Jim Spiri

It’s June now, 2008. I’ve been back stateside for over half a year now. During that time I was able to visit several states, gave a few talks, saw the kids and grandkids, and tried to settle into the day to day routine of what happens next. I’m pondering the situation that all of us are facing these days and I find myself quite startled at what is going on all around me. Let’s take a look at what I mean.

The war in Iraq continues. Each day I watch closely and follow from afar what I can as best I can. It gnaws at me that I am not there at the moment. Lately, I have kept informed on Afghanistan as well. A friend or two whom I was able to patrol with in Iraq have found themselves in Afghanistan doing more of the same with less. Day to day in these two places keep me a little ahead of the curve ball stateside with all the other recent economic realities that tear at each of us like an open wound.

Gasoline prices have most of us on high alert here at home. No longer is it a matter of will prices rise, rather now it is how far will it continue to spiral out of control. I personally drive a little four cylinder Nissan Frontier pick up with a small matching camper shell on it, in the event I find needing to live out of it should the economy really tank. I’m quite thankful it is paid for (it is a 2004 with 30,000 miles on it) but even at 25-30 mpg, it still cost me nearly $60 to fill it up these days. I’m coming to the realization that soon it will cost close to $100 to fill it up, probably by this coming Labor Day in September.

Then there is the grocery store which my wife and I find ourselves going to less and less frequently these days. Seems as though it was a good time for me to lose some of that winter weight now that eating has become a luxury rather than a necessity. I’ve dropped 20-lbs, and walking 20-25 miles per week to adjust to the continual and what seems like daily price hikes at the store. I’m glad I learned the word “adapt”, in the phrase, improvise, adapt and overcome. Now it’s a matter of survival, probably always was.

Then there is the political arena that has taken the country by storm. No doubt the Democratic nomination process has been front and center lately, but during that time I found myself once again speaking with Sen. John McCain as recently as Memorial Day here in Albuquerque. Now, the real race for the White House has truly begun and just as the summer heat bears down on us here in the high desert, the same is true across the country between the two Senators, McCain and Obama. It should be quite a spectacle to say the least in the weeks and months leading up to the general election this fall in November.

Then there is this matter called employment. I have found myself working on an “on call” basis at the flight line at Kirtland AFB here in Albuquerque supporting air tankers during fire season. It pays a whopping $11 an hour, which is a dollar an hour less than I was making at the same job in 2006, prior to my departure for the middle east. It’s a struggle to say the least and I find myself vying for work hours with retired US Forest Service employees who seem to think it is comical that they don’t call me very often. None of the ones I’ve worked with here have ever been on a combat patrol yet and are quick to tell me how stupid I was to not get a real job as opposed to walking the streets of Fallujah or Mosul with America’s finest. There are times I just have to walk away from a conversation and count to one hundred or more.

During my time in Iraq dodging bullets with young warriors from all across this land, never once did anyone call me stupid. On the contrary, they gave me to eat and gave me to drink for I was the least among the brethren. I was always content.

Now with all that out of the way, it brings me to a place I seem to have visited many times since October when my journey took a break and reality seemed to be a bit on the obscure side of the spectrum. Homeward bound is a relative term. An old friend of mine who was a sailor on river boat patrols in Viet Nam back in the late 1960’s told me of a song he heard on his way home from Viet Nam. The lyric went, “ I’m getting closer to my home…” When he told me that back in 1974, I mentioned that it must have been a good feeling. He told me at that time that he would never feel at home again after his experiences in Viet Nam. I did not understand what he meant for I was just 19-years-old at the time and had not been to far away places yet. But 34-years later, I am just now beginning to understand what my friend George meant.

I’ve spent a lot of time working my garden these days. The wind here in the spring in the desert causes much grief for the avid gardener. But I keep pressing on, sowing, replanting, with a view to an eventual harvest. It’s not about saving money on veggies or the thought of growing my own food to beat the system. Rather, it’s simply about starting and finishing a seemingly unimportant task that carries much weight throughout the learning process. Seems these days having a shovel, a rake and a hoe in my hand, digging in the dirt and fighting the elements makes more sense than trying to beat the system that gives me high grocery prices, high gasoline prices or political rhetoric that makes my eardrums burst.

On Memorial Day I was surrounded by more than 2500 veterans from many wars, both from the distant past and the more recent. It is where I was invited to photograph John McCain. He did not speak about anything political so much at that venue on this day. Rather, he spoke a language that all around me, including myself understood clearly. Later that day, I spent some time with him at a different place and it was more private. There he spoke some political words and the audience was about a dozen folks including myself. I took the photos I promised I would and distributed them accordingly, for free as usual.

Earlier that Memorial Day weekend, Candi and I went to Jesse’s gravesite and placed three flags. He lays between veterans on his left and right, above and below. It was peaceful, but sorrowful. In the end, there will come a day when there will be no more tears. That’s the day I’m looking for. In the meantime I struggle with not only where to go from here, but how on earth to pull it off. It’s a simple burden. However, like gardening, there are obstacles. I know where I am, I know where I should be, it’s just all the in-between details that seem to be restricting my goal.

Adapt, improvise and overcome. I am clear it is all part of becoming an overcomer. Looking forward to each and everyone’s reply.

Sincerely,

Jim Spiri
Jimspiri@yahoo.com

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