Not Knowing...

After my fathers funeral I went over to talk to my oldest brother who was outside of the church where many of us had gathered. He was holding the folded American flag that had draped my father's casket (my father had been a World War II vet). The flag was originally presented to my mother after the ceremony, but later she chose to give it to my brother for reasons only she knows. I said to my brother "Every string in that flag represents each time our dad paced through the living room and screamed at the television during the siege".

I had to explain this to him because apparently no one had ever told him the story. I was very young, about six, and though I remember it quite well, I can't really say I understood what was going on at the time. It was during the Vietnam War when my eldest brother was a Marine stationed at the base in Khe Sahn. The base had been surrounded and for many days the Marines were trapped in this very dangerous place, often fighting hand to hand. During that war, freedom of the press meant that every night during the evening news the terrible pictures of war were flooded straight into the homes of Americans all across the country. Every night my father would come home and pace back and forth through the living room ranting at the television "why can't we get those boys out of there!" The truth... why they couldn't get my brother out of there. A type of insanity had taken over my father, so worried he was for his son. Yes though I was very young I remember the ranting, and raving, and pacing very well, and I remember my father asking me questions, not that he expected any kind of an answer from a six year old, but just because he needed someone to ask, these questions that had no answer, and I just happened to be there.

My brother seemed very happy to hear this story, though I was surprised that no one had ever told him it before. During the siege there were no letters, so, no story was ever relayed, and by the time he came home, most people just wanted to forget about the war. I think it was a good time to tell him the story, certainly better than had we been able to tell him during the siege, because simply put, sometimes you are better off not knowing, no matter how much you desperately want to know.

My father certainly would have been better off not knowing the perils that surrounded his son. It certainly would have saved a lot of wear and tear on my father's nerves not to mention to carpet in the living room. It may have even saved my father's and mother's marriage, though doubtful, that ended shortly after that. This madness surely served no purpose, and benefited no one, and if it in some way made my father feel better, had he not known the particulars of my brothers situation, there would have been nothing for him to have to feel better about.

My brother didn't need to know about the state our father and the family was in at that time. He was busy dealing with the situation that surrounded him and the last thing he needed was to be distracted from the job he was doing by news of his fathers "mental deterioration" (for lack of a better word). I believe he was better off thinking that everything was just fine at home.

Yes, I think that quite often one is better off not knowing, or at least there may come a better time to find out what you really didn't want to know about in the first place...


"Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise."

-Thomas Gray


PS: If you have a poor opinion of the war, the men and women that served in it, or the things they had to do to get through it, by all means, when in my presence, feel free to keep your comments to yourself. Because in that case, I'm much better off not know what you think...