Paxton Schmidt

…… AND THE ROCKETS RED GLARE

Crowd sees the outside wall and window of a house stage right toward the back of the stage. The small set will be on a rolling platform that will turn until the window faces stage right. As it turns it will reveal a man sitting in a chair staring out the window. After a few moments the stage lights go off. When the lights come back on the man is walking across the stage in full army gear. He looks at the audience and begins to speak.

The man: Look at him. Do you see him? (He pauses as if waiting for an answer) I guess not. And I suppose that’s why I’m here. You see, he and I are the same in a way. He’s been sitting there staring out that window for three years because he kept me inside for twenty three.

You wouldn’t know it by looking at him but he did, at one time have a normal life. A pretty good one I might add. It’s kind of sad you know. Not that he had a good life but that he HAD a good life.

That something like this has to happen to someone who had so much going for him. A nice family, a good job, everything seemed fine. Then one day, despite how hard he fought to hold me inside, I came back. I’ve always been here for the last twenty three years and every once in a while I’d get out, but never all of me. He’d get and real quick when the kids made too much noise or something like that. He’d yell like someone had set off a bomb in the house. But then he would always push me back down deep inside his heart. Those were the only times I ever came close to getting out. Now as you can see, I’m back and he’s hidden deep inside my heart.

It’s not that I’m some evil spirit that is trying to destroy his life, although that’s probably what it seems like. You see, I have nothing to do with it. I belong to him. I live inside him, and there’s nowhere else I could ever go. All I am is feelings: Feelings that have had twenty three years to grow and multiply but no way to get out. Now I guess I’ve grown so much that there is no room for any other feelings. It’s not my fault.

Maybe some of you think that it’s his fault for keeping me inside all these years. I guess it’s something that a lot of people will never understand because they choose not to pay attention. You think it’s easy to get help and have all these feeling taken care of like magic? Don’t you think he tried to get help? He did. When he felt like things were getting to be too much he started seeing a counselor, but it’s not that easy. When feelings this strong have so much time to grow you need a lot more than someone telling you that everything is going to be fine.

And after so many years of holding everything inside and hiding these feelings they don’t just flow freely like you’re telling someone about a movie. Besides you have no idea what he went through in Nam.

He went to his counseling session every week for more than a year, and every time it was the same thing. For the first few sessions they would just talk casually about the war and he thought that they were making progress. As the therapy continued it came time for him to discuss the things that caused all the bad feelings.

That’s where most of the progress stopped. No matter how much he wanted to talk about them, they wouldn’t come out and he ended up lying to his counselor to keep his feelings hidden. Finally he told his counselor that he and discontinued the therapy. After that his life went straight down hill.

It’s not that he gave up after that, it’s just that everything became too difficult. Now every part of his being goes into keeping me from tearing him apart completely. If you’re thinking that he should let his feelings out you’re right, but, like I said, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. You see, I did things in Vietnam, really bad things.

I mean, my job was to kill people and I was really good at it. Think about that. It isn’t the kind of job you can forget when you’re done. And probably the most important thing is that it’s not the kind of job you can ever be proud of no matter what anyone ever tells you. To tell you the truth it’s the kind of job that makes you feel guilty and ashamed. Haven’t you ever done anything that made you feel guilty and ashamed? How many people did you want to tell? You see, he feels like a monster because of the things he’s done and he’s very afraid that everyone he tell will think the same.

He never even told his family about any of it, especially his son. His son is one of the things that make him feel guilty because of something that happened in Vietnam. As long as you don’t repeat it, I’ll tell you what happened.

It was a normal mission: my platoon was just checking out a few positions along a tree line when the VC starting firing shots out of nowhere. Everyone took cover and started firing blindly into the trees. Before and certainty about the situation was gained the VC began charging at us with what id called a human wave assault. They just kept coming until they got to close to shoot at them. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the first one coming at me so I spun around a stabbed him with my bayonet. As he fell to the ground his helmet fell off revealing his twelve year old face. I only saw it for a fraction of a second, but I see it now every time I try to sleep.

So where does my son fit into this? Well, how could I possibly deserve to have a healthy son when I’ve done something as terrible as that? If he found out he might not understand that I had no choice. It’s great to have a son but when I think about him it hurts. It’s really hard to be close to someone when you feel guilty having them around.

I remember my son telling me that he wanted to be my friend. It sounds stupid now but I told him no and didn’t know why.

I don’t know what else to tell you. You might really think it’s terrible that he sits there everyday and doesn’t do anything about his problem, but, then again, you might hate him for if you knew him or what he did. All of this is part of him now and he can never get away from it. We just have to hope that someday he will get enough of a break from these feelings to allow him to get help for himself.

So do you see him? If not, look a little closer and concentrate. It’s not just a man sitting in a chair. There’s a lot more than meets the eye. Maybe if you can see that, you’ll be able to see him.

Mother’s Note: Our oldest son Paxton wrote this when he was a freshman in college, 1991. Through so many of his teenage years their relationship was strained. I could send you the events/traumas of John’s time in Vietnam, this could explain this better, let me know. In the early days of PTSD, John always felt that he didn’t deserve a son since he took the life of a someone’s son in Vietnam. Anyway for whatever it is worth or the reasons, this was written.