A somber anniversary

By Jeff Orvis

It was a typically gray late fall day. For the only year of my first seven years in school, I was in a different building. But the novelty of climbing on a bus and traveling three or four miles to the top of the hill to the newer Pleasant View School had begun to wear off by that late November day and I suppose I had the same view as my classmates that a day off from classes for parent-teacher conferences, even if it was only a week until Thanksgiving, was a welcome change.

Dad was at work. Mom had a scheduled conference with my third grade teacher just after noon. Since we were too young to stay home alone and since the school allowed kids to hang out in the gym while their parents were in conference, my sister and I went along. It was a rare opportunity to have the gym virtually to ourselves – basketballs and indoor hoops! I vaguely remember that a radio was playing in the background and suddenly the music stopped and a newsman began talking.

It's been five decades since that day and memories sometimes are a big cloudy. But I remember that even then I felt it was my responsibility to tell Mom that the president had been shot in Dallas when she was finished with her conference. She may have already been told and I remember it was a quiet ride back to the house.

In those days, both Mom and Dad were big Kennedy supporters. Looking back and considering my mom's political leanings later in life, I don't know if she was a real fan or if she was simply attempting to keep harmony in the house as she was married to a lifelong Democrat. What I do remember is the rest of that day and for most of the next three days, she shed a lot of tears.

My folks were not politically active. They didn't volunteer at candidate headquarters or make phone calls on behalf of candidates. But they made sure we were exposed to the political process at an early age. My earliest memory was when we were living in Rock Island, IL early in 1960. We walked down to the corner along a busy street and watched as a motorcade carrying the future president passed by. I still think he smiled and waved at us. Later that summer, we drove from our house in the Quad-Cities to Monticello, IA, to hear a campaign speech by the future vice president (and later president) Lyndon Johnson. He was truly in his element, speaking in front of a grandstand on the grounds of a county fair.

So much has been written about the Kennedy years, especially in the days leading up to this fateful anniversary. President Kennedy still maintains an approval rating over 90 percent. We have heard that he may not have always been faithful in his marriage. We learned that he served in office despite a debilitating back ailment. But he overcame so much to lead this nation for such a short time. He came from a family of great wealth, but also one of great service. Despite that wealth, his parents never let him nor his brothers or sisters forget the responsibilities they had to help mankind. He was a war hero, scholar, member of Congress and author.

He broke the mold of what our parents and grandparents expected in their president. Most of those who came before him were old enough to be grandfathers. John Kennedy had two young children under the age of six. He was also a practicing Catholic, another fact that some tried to use against him.

As we remember the Kennedy legacy, it's often tough for me to remember that many of those who I may want to discuss this with weren't even born when he was president. But even if you were only six or seven years old at that time, the few seconds of terror branded our memory with something that stays with us today and will last forever.

Thanks and an apology to our military

By Jeff Orvis

Yesterday, many of us took at least a couple of minutes out of our day to thank and remember veterans and current members of our armed forces. Veterans Day has been around for many years. A lot of the time in the past, many of us probably simply viewed it as a day when the banks were closed and there was no mail delivery.

Most of us either served in the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines or Coast Guard or had friends or relatives that had. But with only a few notable exceptions, the era since the end of the Vietnam War has been a time of peace and it became easier to forget that a very important function of our government has been to protect us and ensure that continued peace.

I came of age when we were eligible for the draft during the Vietnam War. It's been a long time ago and I won't go into my views of our participation in that conflict. All I knew is I had no desire to join the armed forces. I'd heard horror stories of what was happening on the other side of the world and I knew I wanted no part of it. Besides, due to at least a couple of glaring health conditions, I was deemed not fit to duty.

This country was sharply divided on the issue of whether we should be fighting in Southeast Asia. Unfortunately, a lot of the negative feelings at that time was misdirected toward the returning soldiers. Many of them faced what we have now come to know as post traumatic stress syndrome, as well as exposure to poison that our military spread on the foliage over there. But that didn't seem to matter to the idiot fringe of the protest movement, who turned their venom toward the common foot soldier instead of toward our government.

Fast forward thirty or forty years and the attitude of the majority of us is gratitude toward the veterans of the conflicts in the Middle East, as well as those still on active duty. We may not all agree that our participation in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan is the right thing, but we recognize that because we now have an all-volunteer military, they are serving in our stead.

So I can see why we should thank our military members. But I also think we owe them an apology as a nation. As I have commented in the past, the treatment that many of our military members receive from their government when they return is terrible. We may treat them as heroes when they step off the plane at the airport, then quickly forget where they've been and go about our lives. Meanwhile, many of them are struggling with wounds, visible and not-visible or simply struggling to return to a normal  life in a tough economy.

Even if you disagree with our government, most of us view members of our military as heroes. But they are often treated like second class citizens by a government that prides itself in enough red tape to decorate every Christmas tree in this country. By the time these men and women step into the combat zone or into their duties in a support role, they have received superior training. They are professionals. We should remember that. To put it in a sports term, we expect our military to perform like Jay Cutler and Brandon Marshall, yet at times our government treats the returning troops like a bunch of sandlot players.

An NFL team owner would never dream of sending his players out on the field without the best pads and uniforms and without a team of trainers and doctors on the sidelines. In fact, the courts are finally starting to force the owners to also give retired players the care they deserve. If you don't intend to play the game with the best resources, whether it is football or the deadly game of war, then you shouldn't play.

You had to know that I couldn't write a piece like this without at least one political comment. But this might surprise you. Maybe it's time we not only make age and citizenship a requirement for the presidency, but also a condition that the candidate must be a military veteran. I realize we have had some former members of the military who have sat in the Oval Office that have disappointed us and some that have not served that have made some wise decisions. But maybe if the next president is a military veteran and the members of Congress who sit on the armed services and appropriations committees also must have served in the military, then our men and women who have served and will serve in the future will have a better chance at a quality life when they return.

So, thank you past and current members of the military. We promise to do a better job of holding our leaders accountable for the medical and financial recognition you so richly deserve.

Moving back home from home

By Jeff Orvis

In the days leading up to the big day, I kept telling friends and family that a week after the move, I would have the chance to sit back and sigh with relief. Well, here it is, almost two weeks later and I missed that target by almost a week.

Long story short, I have moved from Davenport back to Belle Plaine and so far, it has been a very wise decision.

About three years ago, I made the tough decision to leave here and move back to the Quad-Cities, where Mom generously agreed to clean out the spare bedroom for me. I did my best to clean out a two-story, three bedroom house, moving some belongings to a storage unit and loading up the van for the trip to Davenport. It was my intention to look for work there and eventually move into an apartment. After a couple of frustrating years of searching, I began to come to grips with advancing age and I scaled back my search.

Then August, 2012 came along and my focus shifted to being chief decision maker for Mom. I don't want to repeat that month ever again from the standpoint of watching as she suffered through three major surgeries and we ultimately made the agonizing decision to give her back to God. But even as I reflect on that tough month, I realize that He has had a hand in my life all along, especially since I left here in 2010. I had the chance to to reconnect with Mom for nearly two years. We didn't always agree - especially on politics and religion. But on the whole, I will cherish those times and some great memories.

Since her passing in September, 2012, I have been devoted to settling her estate. When I agreed to be the executor, I really had no inkling of what was involved. But thanks to family, good friends and a patient attorney, the estate is almost settled. We sold her condo and I knew I had to find a new place to live.

I have to admit that there were many hours of doubt that all this would fall into place. But I truly believe that if you "let go and let God," good things can happen. My sister was one of the true champions in my corner when I finally decided to set my goal to return to a small town in east central Iowa, where many of my friends still lived. Although she has spent the majority of her adult life living in places where a reliable automobile becomes your best friend, she listened when I talked about some of the amazing relationships I had established in this great small town.

So many things had to fall into place in just the right order to make this move happen. I made one trip back here to look at the apartment I eventually rented. Although I hadn't met my eventual landlords before, having spent more than 10 years here helped. I know several of their sons and despite the fact that my reputation preceded me, they agreed to make me their tenant.

Then came the move arrangements. I have a couple of good friends in Davenport, Eric and Lynn, who looked after Mom before I moved back to Davenport like she was their mom. They transferred that care to me after Mom was gone, so I guess I was lucky to inherit an unofficial brother and sister. They helped me pack up stuff and Eric and their son, Aaron, sacrificed a Saturday to drive the truck and unload.

It's difficult to explain to some folks who have not experienced life in a small town. But the first day I began running errands here, people called out to me on the street, in the stores and the bank. They remembered me, even though I had only visited once in three years. You don't get that kind of attention in a larger city.

I left a neighborhood where you could get a sub sandwich at five different shops, groceries at one of at least four places or a hamburger at nearly a dozen restaurants within a two-mile radius of the condo. But not once did anyone at any of those places know my name. I have told my sister that if she needs to contact me and I don't answer the phone, she can call any one of a half-dozen folks here in Belle Plaine and they will find me. Try that in Davenport, or any other large city, where it's way too easy to disappear.

People I meet ask what my future plans are. I am not really sure. For now, I plan on taking time for rest and reflection and more frequent blog entries. I want to stay involved in this community, through church, occasional visits to City Hall and downtown businesses and maybe an occasional visit to a city council or school board meeting. I have not severed ties with my old hometown. I still subscribe to the electronic edition of the Davenport newspaper and check in several times a week with Eric and Lynn. And in this era of social networking, friends and family are only a couple of keystrokes away.