A Marine and a Mom

This is a personal story, but I write it in honor of Mother’s Day, for a very extraordinary Mom (who happens to be my Mom, Margaret Burghardt).

The year was 1963, and the EIGHT of us (yes, six kids, each born in a different state!) lived in Navy housing in Alameda (in a 3 bed, ONE bath house, but I digress).  Our country was midway through the Vietnam “military conflict.”  Our Navy pilot dad, Louis Burghardt, had already served during World War II and the Korean conflict; thankfully he did not go to Vietnam (although my brother, John, served on a Navy aircraft carrier off the coast).

Sometime during that year, a neighbor told my parents  about a young Marine, Gordon Gunter, who had survived a horrific helicopter crash in Vietnam and was being treated for massive burns at Oak Knoll Hospital in Oakland, CA.  (He and his co-pilot had kicked out the windshield and managed to escape the crash site, but not the flames.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gordon was from Texas, and he knew no one in California. Enter my wonderful parents, who took it upon themselves to fill in where his family was unable to.  During his three-month Oak Knoll stay, my mom (and dad, when he could) visited Gordon nearly daily, often taking flowers and treats like cut-up, de-seeded watermelon and ice cream to spoon-feed him while his face was still bandaged.  Ever the elegant woman, Mom always wore a dress, “heels” and pearls.

Considering Gordon’s significant injuries (even requiring grafting of tissue for new eyelids) and the ever-present threat of infection, it was amazing that he survived at all.  I know there were times when he talked of giving up.  But my beautiful mom was always there to let him express himself, to encourage him, or just sit quietly with him.  How do I know this?  Because she was also brave and caring enough to take me or one of my siblings along on some of these visits.

I don’t recall having fear or anxiety during these visits, just the curiosity of a typical 8 year old.  In looking back, the lesson I learned from that experience was how selfless and considerate people can truly be, even toward total strangers in extremely challenging circumstances.

Gordon visited our family a number of times over the years that followed.  So we knew he had returned to Texas, become an attorney, married (twice) and had several children (even giving one the middle name “Burghardt” in honor of my parents).  But then somehow we lost track.  Mom has talked so often about wishing she could find Gordon again to check up on him.

Through the magic of Facebook (and a natural tenacity), my sister Nancy recently found Gordon’s daughter Chanelle and put her in touch with our Mom.  Turns out Gordon is now in a military hospital battling Parkinson’s Disease (and, unfortunately, rapidly losing the battle this time).  But Chanelle put him on the phone.  Mom did the talking, catching him up on family events (including, sadly, the passing of my father nearly four years ago), and Chanelle said she thought her dad understood and actually smiled when he heard her voice.  In spite of the circumstances, Mom was so glad to have found Gordon again, and to know that he had lead a full life and is now being cared for by his loved ones.

As heartrending as some of this story is, I feel it is also a testament to the human spirit and how we touch each other’s lives as we move through our individual journeys.  And it’s a tribute both to Gordon (and all the courageous people like him who risk their lives daily for the well-being of the rest of us) and to my mom, who took time out of her busy life to bring comfort and hope to a lonely, traumatized young man.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  Love you.

Talk about Friends

In one of those interesting, quirky “coincidences,” two days after I wrote my last blog entry about the value of long-term friendships, my son Gabe surprised us with a visit for Easter weekend. Two of his best lifelong friends, twins Shad and Darrell, were in town visiting family as well, and we all met up at Bidwell Perk to sip our java on the patio on a picture-perfect spring day. I’m so impressed with the fine young men these three have become and am thrilled they have maintained their friendship

Friends for life

Where would we be without our friends? Having moved every 2-3 years during my childhood (from Rhode Island to Midway Island and points in between!), I fantasized about having a “home town” and lifelong friends. I was 11 when my dad finally retired from the Navy, and we relocated from North Kingstown, Rhode Island, to Castro Valley, CA. Being the “new kid” is never easy, but I was lucky enough to be befriended by Janet and Karen in 7th grade (great friends to this day). What a treat for me to actually live in ONE place through my junior high and high school years, and even two years of college! Wouldn’t you know, though, the gypsy spirit resurfaced after marrying at the age of 20, and my young family and I moved to Eureka and then San Diego before finally settling in Chico in 1981.

Certainly there are advantages to having lived in a variety of interesting locations, and I admire my parents for sharing such an adventurous spirit–imagine having six children, each born in a different state! (At least I can empathize with my clients as they relocate.) But I also cherished the opportunity to create lifelong friendships during those “more settled” teenage years. AND I’m grateful we ultimately landed in this wonderful little community, the “home town” I always dreamed of.