A funny thing happened on the way to my office just before the Spring NOVA event in Fort Worth. A gal named Sandy Heinzele of the Kitsap County branch of the Washington State Quilts of Valor Foundation called me out of the blue and asked me if I’d heard of the QOV Foundation. To be truthful, I hadn’t. She explained in brief detail that a Veteran somewhere, or an organization had nominated me to be a potential recipient of a beautiful quilt hand-crafted by industrious ladies from a large, nationwide group that honors Veterans. They chose me. The fact is, she didn’t specifically say it was gender-exclusive so I reckon there could be men involved in the quilting process. What the hey? Men are being taught how to multitask nowadays. I heard it on the news.

Be that as it may, the only thing I’ve ever won was a fishing derby in Westport, Washington in 1991. A client for whom I was building a home invited me to go fishing on Father’s Day to show his appreciation. Dang if I didn’t hook a 56-pound Halibut and win. The prize was one hundred dollars and my name in the local newspaper. Hoooo, doggies. The halibut was reward enough from my standpoint.

Other than that, I won the lotto to participate in the War in Southeast Asia back in 1969. I was one of the lucky two million,three hundred eighty three thousand that drew a low enough draft number ensuring my participation. Now, I know the most recent 2020 census data shows that there are no less than thirteen million living souls who claim they, too, were there in the flesh but I suspect there’s something amiss in the counting. But that’s another story for another day.

To say I’m honored is a masterpeice of understatement. I have no idea how many lucky souls who are nominated actually end up with a quilt. Mine is absolutely to-die-for gorgeous as you can see. I also wish to thank a fellow Veteran, Jules Fleischner, PA-C for this auspicious honor. Apparently it was he who nominated me. Jules and I met via this website in what seems like aeons ago and have become fast friends over the years.

Our friendship is further cemented by the long-running saga of LZ Cork and one of my clients who sadly passed during the Pandemic- Butch Long. One of his fellow platoon mates, Michael Balzarini was among those killed the night Butch was injured in the attack (1/18/1969). Mike’s nephew, if you can believe it, was a Special Forces trooper who works with Jules. I think they did the 60-klic Grenada Fun Run together back in ’83. He well remembers his uncle’s history and it was an inspiration to him to join.

Sandy Heinzele, the gal who presented me with the quilt, is the mother -in-law of a Veteran in addition to her quilting passion. He was clobbered in the cowardly Khobar Towers attack in 1996 but survived. More recently, her Veteran husband passed away on July 4th. Her losses will always reverberate in my mind when I look at this magnificent piece of artwork.

To be truthful, I’m not much of a parade kind of guy. I, like all in my family, served my country when called and am proud to say I did. I bought a Vietnam Veteran hat years ago after I won my VA claim but I never wear it. I know I was there. I don’t need daily attaboys or that abominable “Welcome Home!” sobriquet from strangers. Boy howdy does that grate on the ears fifty years later. I’m alive and plenty thankful for that alone.

Valor is a strange animal. Most folks don’t know they have it in them until they need it. Unfortunately, when mixed with PTSD, it sometimes demands to be fed like a hungry dog. Eventually, either your valor or your luck run out. Once a hand grenade came whistling in totally unannounced and bounced over next to a jeep near us. Some brave soul jumped on it and began screaming for us to run. It was a dud- like a lot of NVA ordnance was. He got a Silver Star and didn’t even get a scratch. A friend was opening a c ration can of peaches or fruit cocktail one afternoon. We were all lounging around taking a pseudo-siesta and some dink took a pot shot at us with an SKS from 300 yds. He hit the door to the barracks about 10 feet to our right.

The grunt opening his c ration can flinched and sliced the bejesus out of the flesh between his thumb and index finger. He hustled off to find the doc and we went back to work. He even told the pecker checkers the truth that it wasn’t really a SFW or GSW. A week later he gets the Purple Heart and politely declines it. The commander, a Captain, took him aside and explained it thusly. Rule #1 is HHQ never makes mistakes on awards or medals. Rule # 2 is if you suspect an error has occurred, refer back to #1. He shut up and put it in his duffel bag. That’s how screwy the War was. Sometimes you prepared for the ultimate act of valor and didn’t even get a scratch. Other times, you weren’t allowed to even deny your non-valor. Go figure.

Quilts of Valor Letter

I can think of about a hundred Vets I served with who deserve this quilt as much or more so than I do. Unfortunately, some never made it back or have passed due to the nasty effects of Agent Orange. On behalf of all of them, I consider it an immense honor to be the one to accept it and keep it safe.

And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.