Forty-five years ago today I was in Vietnam going into and
coming out of Khe Sanh in what was then known as I-Corps.
It was a Marine stronghold
not far from the North Vietnamese border and constantly under attack from the
opposing forces. I was not certain at that moment that I would survive the
experience or the C-130 flight because of rocket fire and heavy arms fire from
the enemy.
I was 25-years old. A television journalist. My wife was
home with two young children, pregnant and due with my third child.
Flying out of that Marine hell-hole I had a vision that my
wife had just had my third son. I mentioned it to my cameraman. It was February
1st. 1968.
Nearly four weeks later I received confirmation that in fact
my third son was born on that day.
Like my two other sons he was a good son. Energetic,
independent, confident and focused on what was right for him in his life
choices. I didn’t always agree, but I acknowledged it was his choice.
His name was Lee. He died 31-years later of brain cancer. We
all miss him and today is his birthday.
Happy Birthday Lee.
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