.... encouragement to vets. I was back to fix our lunch, which we shared again at the patio table. I remember now, that I had fixed some deli sandwiches and had gotten some pickles he seemed to really like, along with some chips. I rarely bought chips. So the meal was tasty, and he thanked me many times. He seemed much more comfortable finally talking to me after his prayer. I was grateful he had something to believe in deeply.
I had projects to work on, clients and customers to keep me busy on the phone with my businesses that day. And, I drew some additional envelopes for him by request. I kept several hundred envelopes already drawn so that he could pick and choose from them on what theme and who might enjoy each picture that I had drawn and painted in watercolors on the outside of each large envelope. These were mailed around the world, and he had become famous with them and his letters. He had a time writing so that someone could read what he wrote, but let him slow up writing, and he got calls from these folks asking where their encouraging letters were, or if they were lost in the mail.
My husband had a hard time writing after his third Purple Heart in ambush in Vietnam. He had loss of use of much of his right arm and hand from ulnar nerve palsy from a gunshot wound, but he tried his best at writing anyway. He was determined to use it. It gave him muscle cramps in his hand and arm to write, but he wrote anyway. He had always been a letter writer, especially in Vietnam. So I encouraged him to write.
I had even searched long and hard to find these particular men he wrote. For that, I was honored by them when they organized a military association for themselves. He was named as the man 'who started it all" in getting that association off the ground when they finally had their first reunion in early August of 1997. I was thrilled for him and them. I still am for this accomplishment. His wish and command, was to find "his boys" over the years. It was work intensive and very expensive, but I am glad for this now.
So he wrote his letters while I took calls and did some paperwork for my shops and other projects. Then I heard him ask me if I had some cottage cheese. With all his injuries, he had tried so hard to live healthy. He wanted some cottage cheese for dinner with peaches. He had been looking at our peach tree long enough that day to get a craving. I made a grocery list. I came outside to ask him one more time if he could think of anything else he might want at the store. He pondered that, but said that cottage cheese would do.
Then he thanked me for such a beautiful and peaceful day we had shared quietly with each other, That is fall here, either blusterly with some winds, or peacefully quiet. Today, it is even quiet now with a single cricket chirping and the wind not blowing. The only difference is that it is overcast and a good day for reflection. That day was absolutely beautiful with sunshine, filled with energy to renew.
My husband wore a t-shirt the color of the sky with a very pale American eagle on the front of it that day. With closets and drawers full of new clothes, he rarely wore something like that. He preferred to dress somewhat ivy league in khakis and taylored casual cotton shirts that he liked to wear to threadbare sometimes. He was doing his best to please me. I realized this and thanked him. I had only bought the shirt on a whim while visiting in Florida, but I knew he did appreciate the American eagle symbol.
He looked so good sitting there with a smile on his face, happy with the letters he was writing on such a beautiful day. These men he wrote meant so much to him. So I headed for the grocery with the day almost over for us and dinner getting close to time to be started. I went out the gate and noticed he had put three barrels there at the front of the shops. We had temporarily closed one shop door because of previous storm and tornado damage.
He had yanked that door and frame off earlier so that he could finally restart working on the building repairs once again. That was in his morning prayer about re-entering life and getting things done again. An artist, I remember too vividly now seeing two barrels ready for him to cut the tops out of for burn barrels, and the third set to the side a bit since the bung had rusted in it. He would need a hammer and stout rod to knock it loose to pour water out of it. All three had a lot or a tiny bit of water in them from rains. The bung had rusted back in one, sealing it.
The heat from the day was much hotter where these barrels sat in the direct sun. All of them normally would have been benign. One of them became lethal under the circumstances. He had trouble getting up and down because of a ruined knee from his wreck, so he had a 4 x 8 sheet of plyboard on the groud in front of the barrels that he could stand or kneel on projects as he worked. I usually worked side by side p