.. At least I think that’s when I died... At least I thought it was... The dark place kept me until my essence became aware that what was me had beg...n to accelerate into the past... My mind was assaulted with images that had no connection to me, or any of my lives. The images became memories and they centered on a family traveling in a station wagon on their way to a Memorial Day picnic at a small, local park and campground near Winter Haven, Florida for a community day followed by fireworks.. Out in the field, when I was counting down the number of days until my return to “the world,” which was what we called the United States, the bar at Washington National Airport attained mythic proportions. That was because I stopped there before leaving for Vietnam. For me, that bar symbolized surviving the war. I kept trying to remember what it looked like. I imagined myself sitting there, drinking a glass of wine, telling people about my exploits. Now that I was there, everything felt. More

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