A Minnesota PBS Initiative
War Surplus
I’m sad. I’ve checked into the Veterans Home. I don't know what is going on. It's to early to make an evaluation. Being here makes me feel strange, tired and scared. What will happen to me? I wonder if I will ever leave this place on my own power and not on the morgue cart. I hope things work out for me.
The Home is going to be a challenge. I will need to find something to do in the off hours besides eat and look out the window. I would very much like to runaway.
I am in a room on the second floor of a building that was constructed at the turn of the last century. The talk is that the building is condemned and will be torn down. The veterans worry about what will happen to them. It seems the people in power always have ways to keep them worrying. The room reminds me of one of those you would see in some old detective movie. A real flop house type of feeling.
Man, I bet there are lots of ghosts in this place. I haven't been to the dining hall yet for a meal. The folks around here are creepy. There are guys of all ages in this place with all kinds of problems. It seems like most of the fellows are missing a few cards from the deck. I have noticed that the WWII veterans really seem to recent the younger veterans. Hell, I wish I wasn't here. Shit, those WWII guys are a pain in the ass. They have been my whole life.
America is a great country, if you have the money... I visit the vocational counselor. He belittles my work history. He tells me to stop dreaming and to go get a nice steady job at minimum wage and try and be happy.
Money is a problem as always. I need to go downtown and apply for welfare assistance. I will get a whole $52 a month because the Home gets any other money for room and board. The Home seems more concerned about squeezing every buck it can get out of a veteran, more than it does in the veteran’s care and treatment.
One of the staff members told me today that I was to young to be an old soldier. I was to young to be a soldier in the first place. Old soldiers don't die, they rot away in the depths of the Veterans Home. I am developing an attitude about this place. I really feel out of place at the Old Soldiers Home. I wonder if I will ever get a job and put this veteran stuff behind me.
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God! This place bores the hell out of me. I need something constructive to do or I will go goofy. I sit in my dark Vets Home room watching the wind whip the snow into drifts and hoping everything will be okay, if I ever get my shit together.
I don't understand how this Home works. The place is dead on weekends. They have all these events during the week and then when the weekend comes around everyone just sits around and bitches. I usually stay in my room and read newspapers and listen to the radio.
I have to see the social worker and get my money problems straightened out. Welfare is going to terminate me if I don't get moving. All the damn paper work and bullshit you have to go through drives a guy silly. The people in those social service offices treat you worse than a dog. I thought they were in those jobs to help people not punish then for bad breaks in life.
America is a great country, if you have the money. I think one of my biggest stressors is lack of money. I think in a survival mode and can't look beyond my immediate needs. I visit the vocational counselor. He belittles my work history. He tells me to stop dreaming and to go get a nice steady job at minimum wage and try and be happy. Maybe, it is time just to walk away from the VA system and resume my living hell. At least I would be living the way I want too and not the way other people want me too.
I feel like crying but I won't. I think one of these days I am just going to cry like hell. I can't face the fact this is happening to me.
I have an appointment to see the shrink at the Vets Home. I don't know why I have to see her. I guess it's part of the game they play at the Home. There are a lot of games played at the Home. It seems more like a prison some days while other days it feels like living at the funny farm.
The dining experience is the one thing everyone looks forward too. It is the highlight of the day. Some guys line up an hour ahead of time just to be the first to eat. The day I start doing that, you know I have crossed over to the other side.
Veterans love to complain about things. It reminds them of their military days. They love to bitch about the food. I have eaten worse. It is a little heavy on the meat, gravy and grease. The taste is bland, but it is so filling. You could have the finest chefs preparing the best meals and these guys would find something wrong. It is not uncommon for someone to toss their plate of food at the wall or floor and mention the word shit over and over again.
One thing to watch out for is where you sit. I made the mistake of sitting in someone's favorite seat or table and got the evil eye from an old veteran.
I want to runaway. But where would I go? I would just keep running into myself and that's getting old. I just want to run but I'm out of shape. There's to much weight on my shoulders. To much pain in my soul.
Biographical Details
Submitted From: Minneapolis, MN
Story Subject: Military Service
Military Branch: U.S. Army
Dates of Service: 1968 - 1972
Specialty: medic
Story Themes: 142nd Medical Detachment, 1968, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972, Army, Coming Home, Medical Personnel, PTSD, Reflection, Richfield, The VA, Tim Connelly, Veterans for Peace, Watch
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