USA Today - 11.11.2019

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NICOLE CARROLL

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OPINION

DAVE GRANLUND/POLITICALCARTOONS.COM

From the age of 12, I began journaling

for friendship and comfort. I wrote

about being a sensitive girl who strug-

gled to make herself visible. But I also

wrote happy passages, describing

overnight visits to an aunt, where we

both liked to stargaze. She would read

my tarot cards and I was happy, inhab-

iting some deeper part of myself.

At home in Detroit, I often organized

a game of red rover or kickball. On a

team, I felt like I belonged. I was good at

competition. It was a way to be visible.

By 17 years old, these two sides of me

had drawn battle lines. In my journal,

which I named “My Many Faces,” I

taped a note from my high school Eng-

lish teacher that said I “have the stir-

rings of deep insight.” But shortly after

her note, I wrote: “I see myself going

into business.” I chose the life of com-

petition, where I could be seen.

I was too young to understand that I

could be more than one thing.

In the journals that followed, I

penned about moving five times in my

20s to new cities for my employer, HBO,

which tapped me to take on larger terri-

tories each time. In those places, even

romance was all business. I’d meet a

guy andpull up stakes and move on.

By 39, I was the co-founder and COO

of a national media brand, working 60

or 70 hours a week. Many of my journal

entries from that time are barely legi-

ble, as I was drinking nightly then, wine

or vodka, or both. I had my own family

whom I loved, but I often lacked the

presence good parenting takes. My

husband, Bill, looked at me one night

and said: “We’re not your staff.”

Then, when I was 44, my dad passed

away, and I was handed a precious gift.

It was his diary from World War II.

None of us kids had known it existed,

and it changed everything for me.

My father, Buster

His journal was a little brown book,

with “My Stretch in the Service” em-

bossed on the cover. My father, Sebus-

tiano Bologna — “Buster” for short —

had begun writing in it two months af-

ter D-Day. From Aug. 8, 1944, he wrote

almost daily until Nov. 24.

My father and mother were engaged

at the time, and many of his entries

were about her. Six times that Septem-

ber, he wrote: “I dreamt of Esther.” His

loyalty to her was woven throughout.

“The boys wanted to fix me up with the

P.X. girl but that’s not for me,” he wrote.

“I love Esther too much.”

Amid his entries about predawn

training and his love for my mother, I

saw a competitive streak in him of

which I hadn’t been aware while I was

growing up. He wrote, “My rifle was the

cleanest for the 5th straight week dur-

ing inspection.” And four days later, “I

challenged Bernstein to a ping pong

match and won four out of six.” The fa-

ther I knew as a child was gentle, and

not someone who tried to best others.

On Nov. 24, 1944, my dad wrote his

last entry. He was to be deployedto Bel-

gium, where he would fight in the Battle

of the Bulge. He mailed the diary to my

momsaying, “Honey, I have to send my

diary back because if I am captured

there might be something valuable to

the enemy. I send this gift to you with

all my heart and all my love.”

My mother, Esther

After my mother received the diary,

she began to write in it herself. Her first

entry was on Dec. 7, 1944, and she wrote

of “going from one bar to another with

Margaret,” adding, “Quite a few fellows

tried to pick us up but I love my fiancé

too much to bother.” Like my father, she

was filled with romantic longing.This

was a revelation to me, my parents as

romantics. Their marriage had been

pragmatic, but never romantic.

I learned even more when I read an

entry in which my mother wrote about

“having my coffee cup read” by her sis-

ter. She was the general who assigned

duties to us kids each day,yet she had

cosmic stirrings too. Both could define

her, a startling realization to me then.

Her journal entries ended after

Feb. 13, 1945, when she wrote, “Around

2:00 the mail came and behold there

was this V-mail stating that my darling

was wounded in action. All I did was

read the first two lines then dropped

the letter sobbing.” She later learned

that my father had been shot in the

shoulder, leg and ear, and played dead.

He somehow crawled to safety and was

rescued by the Allies. He was deaf in his

left ear the rest of his life.

So much color, drama and romance

filled their diary. I was able to glimpse

these parts of my parents I had never

known as a child growing up. Reading

their diary gave me permission to be

true to my whole nature.

I could see the cracks I needed to

mend if I wanted to gain joy and peace. I

quit drinking and entered the recovery

community. I can feel grace circling

there, and I’ve learned that wholeness

doesn’t mean perfection.

It’s not lost on me that this journal,

about a war that tore the world apart,

helped piece me back together again.

Susan Packard, the author of “Fully

Human,” is the co-founder and former

chief operating officer of HGTV.

The healing gift of

a World War II diary

I saw a side of my

parents I never knew

Susan Packard

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to 7950 Jones Branch Drive, McLean, VA, 22108.

As Americans honor veterans this
holiday, it’s vital to remember the silent
war being waged in homes and bar-
racks and countless other places where
soldiers, past and present, are dying by
the thousands every year.
They’re killing themselves in a war
of self-destruction that the United
Statesis losing.
The tide of this struggle turned years
ago, after the Sept. 11attacks, when
America’s all-volunteer military — a
force of fixed and limited size, unable to
expand through conscription — was
pressed into fighting two extended
wars at once, in Afghanistan and Iraq.
The resulting strain was unprece-
dented. Amid a daily drumbeat of news
from far-flung wars, desperately per-
sonal conflicts were being fought and
lost at home.
Army Sgt. Douglas Hale Jr., 26, twice
a veteran of combat, bought a pawn-
shop pistol and killed himself in a res-
taurant bathroom outside Fort Hood,
Texas. After five deployments, Army
Maj. Troy Donn Wayman, 44, died in
his Texas home. And Army Private Jer-
emy Johnson, 23, medically evacuated
from Afghanistan, texted his mother
before taking his life.
A generation ago, the military sui-
cide rate was lower than in the civilian
world, as well itshould have been. Ser-
vice members were a specialized pop-
ulation, screened for health and emo-
tional problems and exempt from soci-
etal tribulations over finding a job,
housing, health care and other issues
that trouble those outside the military.
But that changed after about 2003.
Military suicide rates suddenly and
sharply increased. And they’ve never
come down. Last year, 325 active-duty
troops died by suicide, a rate of
24.8 per 100,000. The civilian suicide
rate is 18 per 100,000.
The trend bled through to the veter-
an population, where thousands take
their own lives each year. The highest
rate — 44.5 per 100,000 — is among
veterans ages 18-34.
In the early days, this contagion of
death shook the Pentagon as research
and awareness programs were
launched en masse. But with the pas-
sage of time, outside of ongoing sui-
cide-prevention task forces, the clamor
for action has faded.
“We’ve accepted this new high rate
as normal,” saysCarl Castro, a psychol-
ogist and retired Army colonel, now an
associate professor at the University of
Southern California. “They don’t even
remember a time when it was lower.”

The crisis cries out for a fresh ap-

proach. Programs should be more ag-

gressively evaluated to see whether

they really work. Recruiters must do a

more precise job of screening appli-

cants for suicide risk and emotional is-

sues. And greater emphasis should be

placed on assisting service members

through crucial periods of transition af-

ter deployment or leaving the military,

when many suicides occur.

Finally, there must be greater em-

phasis around firearm safety in mili-

tary and veteran homes. Where half of

civilian suicides are with a gun, that

rate jumps to 60-70% among troops

and veterans.

The U.S. military is the world’s fin-

est. But it has been at a high operation-

al tempo for going on two decades. “The

very nature of military service has

changed,” says M. David Rudd, presi-

dent of the University of Memphis and

a leading expert in military suicides.

“We’re in a perpetual war.”

Any member of the armed forces

who dies in the thrall of a personal cri-

sis is a casualty of that war — every bit

as much as if they had fallen on the bat-

tlefield. This reality has to be embraced

on Veterans Day, and every other day.

By Gregg Zoroya for the Editorial

Board.

TODAY'S DEBATE: VETERANS DAY

Our view: Military suicide crisis

begs for fresh approaches

Tragic end

SOURCE Department of Defense,

Defense Suicide Prevention Office reports

Rate of suicide among active-duty

service members, all branches,

per 100,000 service members,

2001-18:

GEORGE PETRAS/USA TODAY

25

20

15

10

5

0

’01 ’

10.

24.

6,139 veterans in 2017.
541 members of the active-duty mil-
itary, Reserve and National Guard in
2018.
186 military family members in 2018.
These numbers don’t just represent
our suicide numbers. Each suicide is a
human life lost, with loved ones, units
and friends left behind.
The cost is too high.
In our country, only 1% volunteer to
serve and protect our Constitution; our
nation is grateful for their service. The
Departments of Defense and Veterans
Affairs must, and will, do better for our
military members, veteransand their
families. We don’t accept these num-
bers, nor are we complacent.
We are seeing unprecedented efforts
to increase access to care, reduce stig-
maand build coping skills. We are see-
ing unprecedented commitment at the
highest levels to prevent suicide within
our communities. But no organization,
agencyor effort can alone end suicide.
The most recent data shows that na-
tional suicide rates are also rising.
As psychologists, there is little
someone can say to cause us pause. We
know about pain, trauma and cata-
strophic events that uproot even the
most stoic. We, too, have had life expe-

riences that shook our ground. When

we see suicide numbers, we don’t see

“them,” we see “us.”

We see people who were hurting and

couldn’t see a way out. And we may

each be susceptible given certain cir-

cumstances. As long as we as a nation

“suck it up” or try to “handle it,” we

won’t make progress. None of us.

We must continue to reduce this

stigma that is killing far too many vet-

erans, service members and other

Americans.

Talking about suicidecan be scary.

Uncomfortable. It shouldn’t be.

Within this short article, we can’t

provide all you need to know, but there

is much you should know. Know the

facts and misconceptions, red flagsand

your own risk. Talk about it. Acknowl-

edge that getting help is a source of

strength.

We must do more. We are committed

to doing better. We want your help. We

can prevent suicide — together.

Find out more about suicide here:

http://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/sui-

cide/fastfact.html

Dr. Elizabeth P. Van Winkle is execu-

tive director of the Pentagon’s Office of

Force Resiliancy. Dr. Barbara Van Dahlen

is director of a suicide prevention task

force at the Department of Veteran Af-

fairs.

Another view: ‘We are

committed to doing better’

Elizabeth P. Van Winkle
and Barbara Van Dahlen

1948 FAMILY PHOTO