Suzanne Constantini - I’m A Better Person for Having Spent a Year in Vietnam

Suzanne Constantini is an Army Nurse Corps Veteran, having served one year in Vietnam. She received her BSN from Alverno College, in Milwaukee, WI and her MBA from the University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, MN. Her career in nursing spans 46 years holding various leadership positions: head nurse, clinical director and VP of Patient Care Services. She retired in January 2015 and now spends her time volunteering, painting, traveling, reading and gardening.

It was spring of 1968 and I was busy completing my junior year in the nursing program at Alverno College. During that time, an army recruiter was on campus and I decided to set up a meeting to learn if there were any opportunities that would help me fund my last year in school. The army offered to pay my tuition for my final year and, in return, I would give them a two-year commitment for military service. I entered the Army Nurse Corps in November of 1968 as a student nurse and subsequently completed my degree in May of 1969. After completing basic training at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX, I was assigned to Martin Army Hospital in Fort Benning, GA. Much to my delight, I was assigned to the pediatric unit to care for the children of the resident military personnel.

In early January 1970, I received orders for Vietnam. I wasn’t afraid to go and believed that every American soldier deserved the best medical care the United States could offer. I was confident I could use my nursing skills to help deliver that care.

When I arrived in Vietnam on March 7, 1970, I was processed through the 90th replacement center in Long Binh and received my assignment to Cu Chi. Oh my! When my boots hit the tarmac, I felt overwhelmed and encompassed by the sounds, the smells, the heat, and the whirl of the chopper blades in the background. At that moment, I had to really reach deep inside to remember why I was there.

I was assigned to the post-operative recovery room and ICU. The trauma I witnessed was horrible and I still remember the first soldier who died on my watch. I cared for him every day for six weeks; 12 hours a day, six days a week. His name and face are etched in my memory, and when I close my eyes I can see him as clearly as if it were yesterday. The empathy and camaraderie I experienced following his death, helped provide a psychological and physical healing, but I would never again remember any last names or let myself get emotionally attached. Years later, during a visit to Washington D.C., I went to the “Wall.” I found that soldier’s name and touched it, and when I did, I found peace in knowing he was home.

Although my year in Vietnam was long and difficult, I got through it and found the ability to cope, adapt, improvise, and make tough decisions – sometimes under the most dire of circumstances. As I reflect on that year, I know the clinical experiences, collegial relationships, and camaraderie of my Vietnam experiences formed the foundation for my nursing career, as well as defining the way I lead my life today. When my world seems to be closing in around me, I revert back to those days in Vietnam so long ago and say, “It don’t mean nothin’.”

Suzanne’s experience and those like hers are a critical part of the story of the war in Vietnam and Southeast Asia in the American and world consciousness. This September, when PBS premieres the Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary, “The Vietnam War,” these stories will once again rise to the forefront of the national dialogue, and the Minnesota Humanities Center is poised to help further and facilitate those important conversations. If you are interested in hosting conversations about Vietnam and the war in your community, please consider becoming a host site for Minnesota Remembers Vietnam.

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War & Remembrance: Bringing New Perspective to the State Capitol Mall Memorials

According to the Oxford English dictionary, a ‘war memorial’ is a “monument commemorating those killed in a war.” Memorials of all kinds have been erected in the U.S. to commemorate wars and those individuals who served throughout our country’s history, ranging from the nationally known Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC, to single statues or plaques on display in town squares across the country. Like most states, Minnesota has its share of small-town memorials, but also boasts a large and varied display of memorials situated on our State Capitol Mall in St. Paul. Included among the many statues, art pieces, and plaques, is a World War II Memorial, a Korean War Memorial, and a Vietnam War Memorial, as well as a unique and moving Minnesota Military Family Tribute area, lending a voice to the non-military citizens who deal with fallout from war — the families of those who served or are serving. Part of that Family Tribute area features “Story Stones” — large rocks with etched statements taken from the letters of soldiers who were in service away from their homes and families , spanning a time period from the Civil War through to present day. Three very different examples of these Story Stones include the following:

There is no language that can describe, no pen, picture, or painting that can or ever will illustrate the scenes that transpired.
1862 – Waseca

Though oceans and islands may keep us apart, nothing can take you out of my heart.
1943 – Beltrami

Dear Mom, I miss you like crazy!
2014 - Isanti

If you have not spent time taking in the memorials on the State Capitol Mall, you should plan to go and see these monuments and statues and plaques up close. There is something about being in the presence of these often thoughtful and sometimes poignant remembrance pieces that helps make all of the history recounted by them more real, despite the bronze, and stone, and frozen-in-time faces. This is especially true of those memorials — like the Vietnam War Memorial and the Korean War Memorial — that list the names of those who served but did not return, giving you a very tangible look at the human cost of war.

Both adults interested in state and/or military history and students could benefit from some on-the-ground experience in this walkable memorial park, experiencing awe at the number and design of the memorials, and taking time to read inscriptions and the names of those who did not return from war. If you want to delve deeper into the differences between memorializing war and remembrance of the people and events involved, you should check out the “Reflections on War and Service” guide developed by the Minnesota Humanities Center in conjunction with the Minnesota Department of Veterans Affairs — available to download for free from our Absent Narratives Resource Collection. Although it was developed for use by educators, the guide is full of reflection questions and information useful to anyone visiting the memorials who might want to spend additional time contemplating deeper questions around war. Specifically, the guide is designed to help you think more clearly about the differences between how war is memorialized and how war is remembered by the individuals — the Veterans and their families — who experienced it.

For educators who are interested in gaining an even more in-depth view of the memorials and learning about presenting the information to different age groups, the Humanities Center is co-sponsoring (with the Minnesota History Center) the War and Remembrance Educator Workshop on August 3. The workshop will include learning from and with Veterans and a facilitated tour of the State Capitol war memorials. For more details and to register, visit www.mnhum.org/remembrance.

No matter how deeply you choose to explore the State Capitol memorials, we suspect you will come away from your visit with new perspectives on war and will feel more connected to the individuals who are remembered there.

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Meryll Levine Page - Memorial Day 2017: Why Remember?

Meryll Levine Page served on the board of Minnesota Humanities Center from 2004-2012. Following her tenure on the board, she served as a consultant, drawing on her thirty-nine years of teaching experience. Meryll also blogs at: MoreJewishLuck.com Together with her sister, Leslie Levine Adler, Meryll is the author of the nonfiction work, Jewish Luck: A True Story of Friendship, Deception and Risky Business.

I am conflicted about war. To me some wars seem justified; others do not. I am not conflicted, however, about war memorials. Whenever I travel, I’m drawn to war memorials. Some are monumental like the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC and others are modest like the simple obelisks with inscribed names found in small villages throughout Canada and Europe.

I’ve heard the claim that by building monuments and setting aside a day each May to memorialize our war dead we celebrate war. I don’t agree. War memorials make us confront a very uncomfortable reality—that the cost of war is very high, not only for those who died and suffered, but also for their families.

Phil Ochs’s lyrics always play through my head when I stand before a war memorial. He wrote:

“It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all.”

Ochs’s question hangs in the air whenever conflict is possible—is a war and the death of soldiers and civilians worth it? That’s a question worth pondering before we enter another war. To negotiate the future, we need to reflect upon the past.

Walking the grounds of the Minnesota State Capitol, you’ll encounter a collection of war memorials that bear witness to the sacrifices made by U.S. soldiers and their families. Some of the memorials may upset you, but they will also impel you to reflect. “I do not need to be told to remember,” writes Veteran Brian Humphreys. Many of us, however, do need to be told to remember.

The Minnesota Humanities Center has been helping all of us remember through its many programs focused on Veterans. Veterans’ Voices brings together Veterans in dialogue with each other and with literature through shared inquiry. I was privileged to write curricula focused on the memorials at the Minnesota State Capitol Mall, which are available to all at no cost via the Humanities Center’s website.

The humanities enable all of us to engage with the meaningful questions of our lives—why we remember the past, why we go to war, how we, as a society, treat our Veterans. Through civil discourse and a shared examination of literature, history, and the arts, together, we can tackle fundamental questions and begin to understand each other.

This Memorial Day, I encourage you to listen to Veterans’ voices. Take the time to visit a war memorial, drive along Victory Memorial Parkway, listen to the strain of ”Taps,” visit a museum, read a poem or book, or watch a film. Pausing to remember by engaging with arts, literature, and history can help us to build a more thoughtful future.

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Jason T. Garcia - The Humanities: Our Ideas, Values, and Beliefs

Jason Garcia is the Program Officer for the Minnesota Humanities Center’s Veterans’ Voices program. As a 21-year Army Veteran and retiree, Jason is committed to serving our nation. His status as a combat Veteran, with first-hand understanding of the challenges and opportunities of transitioning from military life, makes him a welcome addition to the Humanities Center’s team and well-positioned to lead the Humanities Center’s Veterans’ Voices program.

For 21 years, I traveled the world as a soldier. Along my journey, I was exposed to countless conflicts of ideas, values, and beliefs. I witnessed the terrible destructive capacity of humans when diplomacy failed, and dwelt in locations of unimaginable dark desolation. When I reflect on my journey, I ponder the eternal question—Why? Why did I willingly place myself in harm’s way? Why did I voluntarily endure such hardships? Why did I expose my mind, body, and spirit to such hostilities? On an individual level, I relate to the humanities as a way of exploring those very personal and deeply emotional questions. As a member of the human collective, I think the humanities have the potential to allow us to transcend those conflicts in ideas, values, and beliefs.

The humanities allow us to experience different ideas, influence us to evaluate our values, and inspire us to challenge our own beliefs. They help us to understand one another by facilitating open-mindedness and illuminating culture, and empower us to share our individual experiences so that we may discover our commonalities. Artists like the renowned painter Francisco de Goya put pigment to canvas to expose man’s inhumanity, and the writings of spiritual leaders such as His Holiness the Dalai Lama provide insight into timeless cultural traditions of compassion. They have used the humanities to illustrate the full spectrum of our human potential. Throughout human history, the humanities have opened our minds and eyes to the world around us and have taught us to be teachable. The humanities relate to the issues of our current times by providing us with a means to explore the enduring question of what it means to be human.

“The arts and humanities are vastly more important in troubled times.” - Jim Leach

The Global War on Terrorism has been waging for over 15 years and has resulted in civil unrest and misunderstanding within our society. Today we are more disconnected from one another than ever before. As one soldier among a U.S. contingent of over 2 million troops, I often feel that disconnect and experience a deep longing to be understood. For I am a soldier, but I am a person too. I long to discover the differences and commonality among my civilian contemporaries. How does a civilian citizen experience our fight against terrorism and how do they see me? I yearn for an opportunity to express my story and I hope that the experiences of my comrades are not left unheard. I find faith in the humanities; for they are a means of expression to share how we individually experience the issues of our times. They are a podium from which to freely share our personal experiences and give us each a voice to whisper wind-gently or roar lion-loudly. Ultimately though, the humanities allow us to better understand each other’s ideas, values, and beliefs and “focus on what unites us, not divides us”.

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Two Weeks Left to Nominate an Outstanding Veteran: 2017 Veterans’ Voices Award Nominations Close May 19!

Do you know an exceptional Minnesota Veteran? If so, you should consider nominating him or her for the Minnesota Humanities Center’s 2017 Veterans’ Voices Award.

"Like many of my peers, I work tirelessly to improve our community through a continued commitment to serve,” said Paul Riedner, a 2016 Veterans’ Voices awardee. “The Veterans' Voices Award amplifies our efforts and provides a much needed platform for the incredible gifts that those who serve have to offer us all."

Now in its fifth year, the Veterans' Voices Award recognizes, amplifies, and honors Minnesotans who have honorably served in the military and are now thriving and making significant contributions to their respective communities. These actively engaged, former and current military service members go above and beyond to make positive contributions that improve the lives of people across Minnesota.

“My selection as a Veteran Voices Award winner was an incredible personal honor, but more importantly, it expanded awareness of the two non-profits that I work with: Women Veterans Initiative and Healing of Memories,” said Sheila Laughton, a 2016 Veterans’ Voices awardee. “It is a huge step toward changing the stereotype of the morally injured Veteran.”

To nominate a Veteran for this award, fill out the online nomination form, and submit the completed form along with a two-page (maximum) narrative of why you are nominating this individual for an award.

Completed nominations must be received by 11:59 p.m. on Friday, May 19, 2017. Nominees selected to receive an award will be notified by July 8, 2017. All awardees must be able to attend the September 11, 2017, dinner and award ceremony that will be held at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul.

Exclusions: Please note that Humanities Center staff, board members, fellows, and consultants are neither eligible to nominate an individual for, nor receive, a 2017 Veterans' Voices Award.

Nominate today! For more information visit: mnhum.org/vets.

Some of the Veterans’ Voices Awardees from past years have been featured bloggers for the Humanities Center. Following is a selection of blog posts shared by Veterans’ Voices Awardees:

• Separating Veterans’ Work and Politics: The Minefield of Social Media by Nick Swaggert
• Is There Hope for the Humanities? by Angie Batica
• Rethinking the Modern American Veteran by Paul Riedner

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Bruce Richardson - Vietnam War Perspectives: From the Battlefields to Shakespeare’s Warrior King

Bruce Richardson is the project leader for the Minnesota Humanities Center’s Vietnam Veterans’ Voices project. He is a director of the St. Louis Park School Board, works with the Military Action Group in the Legislature, and is Chair of the West Point Student Leadership Seminar. He lives in St. Louis Park with his wife Audrey, and they have a brand new granddaughter.

In February 1969 I arrived in CuChi, Vietnam. It’s hard to believe that was almost half a century ago, but I was just a young soldier who happened to be one of the most highly trained warriors in the world. I was a U.S. Army Airborne, Ranger, artillery officer—and I thought I was tough. I was, however, also the closest thing West Point had to an English major at the time, and I loved Shakespeare.

One of my favorite plays was the history play, Henry V, written by William Shakespeare in 1599. After King Henry’s cousin complains that their men are outnumbered by the French (in 1415 they were—three or four to one.) Shakespeare’s Henry gives a rousing speech before the Battle of Agincourt. He explains why he fights: “If we are mark'd to die, we are enow. To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.”

Is it honorable to go to war? King Henry thought so, “But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.” As cadets at West Point we discussed honor often. It is the centerpiece of the Military Academy’s motto, “Duty, Honor, Country.” Before I went to Vietnam, duty, honor, and country were all part of what I thought we fought for, but within a few seconds of our first contact with North Vietnamese soldiers, I quickly realized that we were fighting for each other. We fought for the guys in the squad, the platoon, and the company.

This change from fighting for our country to fighting for each other is not limited to men in combat. Army nurse Anne Simon Auger found herself building figurative walls to protect herself from the trauma of the war wounds of the troops she treated. As she told Keith Walker in her oral history, included in his book, A Piece of My Heart, “I got to realizing how vulnerable everybody was. And how vulnerable I was....every patient on that ward, when they left, took a piece of me with them.” I read her story when I was being trained for the “Echoes of War” project developed by the Minnesota Humanities Center, and I was amazed how an Army nurse could feel the same stress and pain and build the same walls as I had. When a North Vietnamese soldier attacked her, she realized that she was vulnerable to hate.

This feeling woke me up. I realized that I was not as tough as I thought I was. When one of my friends was killed in Vietnam, that hate became a reality for me. When I went to war, I was fighting for my country. Once I got there, I was fighting to protect my brothers. When my friend was killed, I started fighting for revenge. That motive is not healthy for any of us.

Shakespeare had King Henry continue to build on his soldiers’ relationships, “From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother….” Anne Auger’s story taught me that we are not just brothers—we are brothers and sisters. And trauma does not just impact combat Veterans—it hits us all, including our families.

The Humanities Center is doing its part to connect our communities, families, Veterans, and others through the humanities. We can all learn that war is not glorious. As Auger said, “I know I can’t forget those experiences, but I understand why I have them, and that they’re part of my life. I also know that I’m a better person, actually, for having lived them.”

Shakespeare said it too, “Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin's day.’ Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day… And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.”

In February 1970, 364 days after I arrived, I left Vietnam a very different person. Today the hate and arrogance are gone, and I will do everything in my power to never let this happen again. And I am committed to help our brothers and sisters make the transition from warrior to civilian without the trauma we had to endure and many still do.

Learn more about the Humanities Center’s Echoes of War project and apply to become a Discussion Leader.

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Nick Swaggert - Separating Veterans’ Work and Politics: The Minefield of Social Media

Nick Swaggert is a Veteran of the Marine Corps who served since 1999 as an infantryman and was deployed twice to Iraq. He is Vice President of Business Operations for Better Futures Minnesota, a non-profit dedicated to employment of men with a history of incarceration, homelessness, poverty, and other challenges to help them achieve self-sufficiency and a better future. Nick is a Pat Tillman Military Scholar and currently serves as a company commander in the Marine Corps Reserve. He is also a 2015 Veterans’ Voices Awardee.

I recently interviewed a candidate for a role at my organization. Following the interview, I reviewed their LinkedIn profile to better understand their professional background. Unfortunately, it was laced with numerous controversial comments about both political and social topics. This type of personal posting on a professional social media site gave me pause as I considered hiring them. The conflict occurs when personal opinions and professional experience co-mingle.

The organization I work for is non-partisan by nature. A visitor to our organization suggested that we post some politically-charged signage that aligned with some of our values. The challenge was that it did not align with ALL of our values and certainly ostracized a group of our stakeholders. My boss quickly dismissed the idea as he has a deep understanding of risk in mixing business and politics.

As a reserve military officer, I am constantly reminded of the need to separate work and politics. Department of Defense Directive 1344.10 itemizes what a service member can and cannot do, and specifically forbids a uniformed military member from publicly endorsing a political party or candidate. The challenge is that when you associate with a controversial topic in a public space—television, social media, or at a public rally—the perception can be that you are a spokesperson for your professional organization. Cyberspace is not a private forum to share your opinions and thoughts with no consequences. It is a space open to the public, even in so-called “private” rooms. This is especially true in the modern world of blog posts, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Facebook.

I believe engaging in a thoughtful, literate discussion means that we respect others’ opinions, ideas, and challenges. We must be mindful of the perception that personal posts can be interpreted as representing our professional careers. Consequences exist in public spaces; cyberspace is a public space.

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Recognizing Outstanding Minnesota Veterans

2017 Veterans' Voices On the Rise Awardee Linda Knox
and her family at 9/11 Award Ceremony

2017 Veterans’ Voices Award Nominations Now Open
Do you know an exceptional Minnesota Veteran? If so, you should consider nominating him or her for the Minnesota Humanities Center’s 2017 Veterans’ Voices Award.

Now in its fourth year, the Veterans' Voices Award recognizes, amplifies, and honors Minnesotans who have honorably served in the military and are now making significant contributions to their respective communities. These actively engaged, former and current military service members go above and beyond to make positive contributions that improve the lives of people across Minnesota.

To nominate a Veteran for this award, fill out the online nomination form.

If you are interested in nominating a Veteran but are not quite sure of the process, the Humanities Center is here to help. Three information sessions will be held for interested nominators to answer questions and share tips on applying:

• St. Paul In-person Information Sessions at the Humanities Center:
  10:00 -11:00 am and 5:30-6:30pm Thursday, April 20th
• Little Falls In-person Information Session at Camp Ripley: Weekend of April 28-30, 2017

Completed nominations must be received by 11:59 p.m. on Friday, May 19, 2017. Nominees selected to receive an award will be notified by July 8, 2016. All awardees must be able to attend the September 11, 2017, dinner and award ceremony to be held at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul.

Exclusions: Please note that Humanities Center staff, board members, fellows, and consultants are neither eligible to nominate an individual for, nor receive, a 2017 Veterans' Voices Award.
Consider nominating an extraordinary Veteran in your life! For more information visit: mnhum.org/vets/nomination.

Some of the  Veterans’ Voices Awardees from past years have been featured bloggers for the Humanities Center. Following is a selection of blog posts shared by Veterans’ Voices Awardees:

• Applying the Humanities: Connection and Community, by Colleen Kelly
• How Do You See the Humanities Growing and Active in Your Life, by Sakinah Mujahid
• Who is Really a Hero, by Louis Goldstein
• How Do the Humanities Define Us as Americans, by Pete Hegseth
• The Humanities as a Bridge Over the Civilian-Military Divide, by Scott Glew

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Dr. Bradley Sidle - Veterans' Voices Found

Dr. Bradley Sidle teaches 7th Grade U. S. Studies at Folwell School (Performing Arts Magnet) in Minneapolis, MN. The student body at Folwell is urban, diverse, and committed to learning in and through the arts.

Hush.

Stop talking.

I'm not interested.

Talk to the hand.

And so it is, when our voices are silenced, our stories cut short, our contribution squashed.

The Minnesota Humanities Center offers a course, the Veterans’ Voices Workshop for Educators, which I was honored and pleased to take, on giving place to a too often neglected voice—namely, the voice of the Veteran. We in the social studies discipline study wars and war plans; we count the number of fatalities and clearly communicate the final outcomes of the battles waged on the field. But the voices of the Veterans we too often overlook.

Our class was held at Camp Ripley in central Minnesota. I have driven past this area many times, and had no idea of the vast resource for military training here in my backyard. I checked in at the gate with the slightest twinge of fear and trepidation. I certainly did not know quite what to expect. My first real inclination that I was in a different world was when we came out of our first plenary and went to the dining hall. Everywhere were uniforms and insignia that I did not understand and could not interpret. The Veterans in our group were quite familiar, and told me that though I felt like a thousand eyes were on these non-uniformed civilians, I was underestimating the truth! Many eyes were on us, but it turned out the vast majority were friendly eyes. Many conversations took place with women and men on active or reserve duty, and the narratives that had long been absent were already being spoken in a sense of honesty and frankness that I greatly appreciated.

We toured the facilities of Camp Ripley, and the Veterans in our midst were quite entertaining as they told of their own experiences at camp and in service. I rather expected a monolithic sharing of the same old, same old. I think my first major learning was that there is not one Veteran's voice, but a wide variety of Veterans' voices. I certainly knew that multiple sources and multiple attestations of a narrative give that narrative verifiability, but I also learned with new confidence that no voice accounts for all voices. Hearing the highly individualized and significant narratives of a wide variety of Veterans brought a vitality and personal representation to the truth.

The plenaries themselves were filled with extraordinary bursts of insight. I will never forget the passion in the story of an officer speaking about the Minnesota First in the battle of Gettysburg. I wanted to thank him for what felt like his personal presence at the battle! We were all visibly moved. The resources I received from the experience were also tremendously valuable and immediately applicable when teaching about the behind-the-scenes experiences of war. The extraordinary resource, Standing Down: From Warrior to Civilian by Donald H. Whitfield, ed., contained short readings I could use to examine a wide range of reporting on the Veterans' experience. Each reading contains a brief introduction and discussion questions that provided ample material for use in my seventh grade classroom. Interestingly, the History Theater in St. Paul recently staged a show, "The Things They Carried," which is represented in this anthology with a nice excerpt.

I left the professional development with a profoundly greater appreciation for the sacrifices and accomplishments of all who engaged in military service. On a more personal note, it also gave me the opportunity to talk to my 100-year-old father about his service in World War II and hear his response to the lectures I heard and the articles I had read. This was a tremendous workshop offered by the Humanities Center, and I encourage anyone who is able to take part in the Veterans’ Voices Workshop for Educators. I am confident in stating that no one will leave without their professional and personal sensitivities engaged and enlarged.

The Humanities Center is offering the Veterans’ Voices Workshop for Educators at Camp Ripley in Little Falls, April 28-30, 2017. To learn more visit: mnhum.org/vetsed.

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Max Rayneard - Home

Max Rayneard is the Senior Writer / Producer of The Telling Project. He has written and/or directed 27 Telling Project productions across the United States, including Telling: Minnesota, Telling: Minnesota 2015, and Telling: Minnesota 2016 in the Dowling Studio of the Guthrie Theatre. In 2017, he and Jonathan Wei will co-write and co-direct She Went to War (premiering March 17) in The Dowling Studio, as well as a Vietnam War-themed production in collaboration with Twin Cities Public Television. He holds a PhD in Comparative Literature from the University of Oregon and lives in Houston, Texas. The Humanities Center has partnered with The Telling Project on Telling: Minnesota.

I think about the meaning of home a lot. I am a foreigner in the United States, a transplanted South African who misses the complexities of my beautiful country. I also think about the meaning of home because I work for The Telling Project — a non-partisan, not-for-profit organization that uses storytelling to bridge the gap between military veterans and the civilian communities in which they make their homes.

Coming home after military service is not easy. There’s an entire literary tradition, spanning back to the great nostos texts of the Ancient Greeks, dedicated to its complexity. Simply put, many veterans have a difficult time adjusting to civilian society because military service is an intense overload of experiences. It has a way of reprioritizing everything you think you know. For many veterans, returning to a civilian world that doesn’t get it and doesn’t seem overly interested in understanding, it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. It feels like loss. It feels like being a foreigner in your own country.

So, what does home mean? I’ve come to think of it as a fleeting thing – an alchemical moment that happens when hearts align. Striving for the next such moment and holding to the memory of the last holds the world together.

Allow me to explain: I grew up a privileged white kid in the waning years of Apartheid. The townships were on fire while Apartheid’s white beneficiaries lived mostly insulated lives. When Apartheid ended, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission [TRC] was established. I came into my young adulthood, sheltered as I had been, watching national broadcasts in which the mostly black survivors of human rights violations told their stories.

The success of the TRC is hotly debated, and so I only speak for myself. I was opened up. I had to admit my own racism and complicity, my own ignorance. I hurt with the people that were hurt in my name. I reveled in their resilience. I was in awe of their generosity. They made themselves publicly vulnerable in the act of telling. The very least anyone could do was to listen. South Africa remains a broken country, and I remain accountable, but for those few moments; I felt like we were all home together.

When Jonathan Wei, the founder of The Telling Project invited me in 2007 to help develop the Telling Project process, I didn’t know that I was being invited to come home. The Telling Project asks veterans to tell their stories in interviews that are recorded, transcribed, and shaped into play scripts. We provide performance training and rehearsal. And then the veterans step onto stages and gift civilians with the opportunity to listen to stories of loss and triumph, of laughter and grief, of guilt and pride, of disappointment and patriotism.

When people make themselves vulnerable to each other by telling their stories and listening, they become home to each other, whether or not they served, no matter where they come from.

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Sheila Laughton - Another Side of Storytelling

Sheila Laughton works with Veterans and their families to address the spiritual dimensions of reintegration, moral injury, and other life issues. She is a facilitator for Healing of Memories Workshops, providing one step on the healing journey for anyone who has experienced trauma. Sheila is a 2016 Veterans’ Voices awardee.

I am a professional listener; it is my job. But sometimes, I get to tell my story.

A few months ago I, along with fourteen other individuals, mostly strangers, drove though the first blizzard watch of the season to sit in a circle and share our life stories in an effort to deal with some memories that were affecting our lives. We were an eclectic bunch — young and old, male and female, Ph.D.s and high school dropouts, African- and European-Americans, alcoholics and abstainers, pillars of our community and homeless. We had been promised a safe place to tell our most traumatic stories. For some, this would be the first time; while for others, the stories were well-rehearsed. We thought we knew how much we would be willing to share, but we would all be surprised by the depths we actually reached. This time we would not only tell our stories, but we would be heard, believed, and acknowledged by multiple witnesses. We would be affirmed as valuable human beings. And we would see that it was our pain that connected us.

Storytelling has been a part of every culture for longer than recorded history. It entertains, educates, transmits culture, and creates community. But it can also reinforce a climate of “us-versus-them” to create an “other,” or strengthen existing negative stereotypes. And then there are the personal stories we have never told which have become self-destructive, overpowering our otherwise rational mind.

Each of us sees life through the lens of our unique experiences, but sometimes our perspective is clouded by trauma or physical, emotional, or spiritual injury. Are we aware of the ripple effects of family and community stories? Which stories do I share? Do I remember what actually happened—what I did, what was done to me, or what I failed to do—or could the ‘facts’ be distorted by time or trauma? Does how and what I tell convince me the ‘other’ always has the upper hand or that I’m somehow not worthy—or, do they help me make meaning of my life? Can I see the positive in life, or is everything negative? And what about those stories I never share—the ones where I am the shameful victim or the villain? Can good listeners help me put my stories into a context beyond my vision?

Now each time I tell my story, it’s different because I have seen it through the perspective of my listeners. I can see cause and effect between my past and present because I have been able to tell my story to multiple people who honored it. I learned to no longer judge yesterday’s actions by today’s insights. I’m even learning to forgive my worst critic—me.

I cannot change the past, only my interpretation of it. But I can change the story I tell.

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Trista Matascastillo - The Stories Behind Veterans Day

Trista Matascastillo is a Veteran of the Navy, Marine Corps, and Army. She is currently the Strategic Partnerships Officer for the Minnesota Humanities Center and a 2016 Bush Fellow.

Each year on Veterans Day, we pause and reflect on events that have shaped our history. We often look back over a distinct list of historical events that trigger memories about times, places, and people. As a country, we engage in conversations about wars and talk about honoring our heroes in a way that makes them seem like super-humans, capable of unimaginable feats. We wave flags, tie yellow ribbons, and sing patriotic songs. It makes us feel good about doing our part in society to support those we depend on to defend our way of life.

Often left out of the conversation are personal stories of our Veterans and their families that aren’t included in the history books or taught in classrooms. As a Veteran myself, I can tell you that our stories aren’t highlights captured on a timeline, but are instead a blend of experiences, both good and bad, that form our memories and shape who we are as humans and how we engage with and in the world.

Veterans come from a wide variety of backgrounds, belief systems, and identities. Although we experience our military service as part of a large, collective unit, our memories form very personal narratives.

Secretary of Defense Ash Carter’s 2016 Veterans Day message lays out a chronological history of conflicts and honors those still serving, and he says that “…on this day, and every day, we should celebrate each generation by telling their stories.” I would go one step further and suggest that you take time to listen to a Veteran sharing his or her personal stories. Alternatively, you could engage in a conversation with one or more Veterans about their experiences and who they are as people. You could attend a Veterans theater production and listen to or watch a Veteran perform. You could read a memoir, story, or poem written by a Veteran. In doing some or all of these things you will be better able to connect with, understand, and celebrate Veterans through our shared humanity.

You can check out an upcoming Humanities Center Veterans’ Voices event and resources on our website at mnhum.org/vets.

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Paul Riedner - Rethinking the Modern American Veteran

Paul Riedner is an Army Veteran from Minneapolis who served as a deep sea diver. Currently, Paul is the Executive Director of the Veteran Resilience Project. He is involved in the Veterans’ Voices Storytelling Project and is a 2016 Veterans’ Voices Awardee.

It was 2006 when I started distilling my life. It wasn’t filling me up. It was draining me. By day I traded on the floor of the Chicago Board of Trade. By night I searched for meaning. Everyone else seemed to know theirs. What was mine? Why did I feel so empty?

I began an internal audit of my life. I reflected about, “What brings me joy?” “What experiences fill me up?” “What physical settings or landscapes I’ve traveled to fire me up?”

I discovered a need to do something that required physical work with my hands, not my head. I discovered a need to work with water. Growing up on the Mississippi River in Red Wing, Minnesota, learning how to live on the water from a father who served on submarines in the Navy, left me yearning for the water.

In addition, I needed to do something meaningful. Thousands of young people were sacrificing and fighting the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan; it felt like something important was happening without me.

Then one day an Army recruiter showed me a video of Army Deep Sea Divers. To the chagrin of friends and family, I joined the Army.

Not long after beginning my service in the dive field, my unit, the 86th Engineer Dive Team, deployed to the Middle East. Most people wondered, “Why would divers go to Iraq?” not realizing the amount of water there. Two great rivers, the Euphrates and Tigris, are key features of Iraqi geography – it’s not barren desert.

Divers are brought in when U.S. assets find their way into the water, including weapons, vehicles, or troops. At this time, Army divers were working on rebuilding the bridges that were destroyed in the invasion and ensuing fighting. The riverbed was littered with debris and the substructures needed to be prepared. Our job was difficult, expensive, and risky work anywhere, but especially in a war zone.

After leaving the Army, all of these events and experiences began re-orienting themselves in my mind. New associations were developing. Old rationales were becoming obsolete. I found prior assumptions and frameworks sometimes dissolved entirely under the pressure of a new understanding from my military days. It stunned me to realize that while we worked on bridges in Iraq, the 35W bridge in my home state collapsed. There are trade-offs. And choices have consequences.

Life seems to observe similar laws that water does. Like a wave that rises from trough to crest, we too have cycles of activity versus reflection, spending versus saving, talking versus listening, working versus resting. A re-balancing will happen one way or another.

If we took an audit of our collective well-being as a community in Minnesota, what would we find? Do most Minnesotans have what they need to thrive? Are we being good stewards of our future? When will we, as Minnesotans, take the time to reflect honestly on the events since 9/11, as a state, a country, and as a community?

Not only acknowledging the underhandedness of the political machinations leading up to the invasion, sparking the first ever worldwide protests, but to see and understand the human damage--its scale, its depth. Other repercussions are still ripping through our local and global community. We must not be naïve about the life-long effects of this type of violence on the souls of both warriors and civilians. These wars were conducted by very few, on behalf of the many, and continued for many years by the collective decisions of the people.

When will the local needs of Minnesotans get priority? When will we apply our finest resources, blood, and treasure to returning veterans, our kids, and a future that reflects our values?

As the only state in the U.S. with an entire month dedicated to Veteran Voices, we have the unique chance to take direct lessons from the profound experiences of those we send to war. We need the gifts of those who serve to rebuild our communities. Let us not leave money on the table.

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Blake Rondeau - Community of Conversation: Civilian and Military Engagement

Blake Rondeau is a Marine Corps Veteran who works at the Minnesota Department of Veterans Affairs. He is the Marketing Director for the Minnesota Warriors, a disabled Veteran hockey team. As a member of the Veterans Mental Health Advisory Council for the VA Medical Hospital, he is dedicated to finding and fixing the problems between Veterans and health care. Blake is currently pursuing a Master of Science in Health Care Communication and is a discussion leader for the Humanities Center’s Echoes of War public discussion events at Carleton College in October.

Recently I was sitting in a small group circle meeting with a couple of young Veterans, and we were sharing stories of trials we were dealing with in the civilian world. One of the quieter Vets said, “They [civilians] just don’t understand what I’m going through.” This is a sentiment that I hear a lot from Veterans, and have felt it myself.

So I asked, “Have you told them how you are feeling?”

A question I would never have asked before. A question that may have been a little rude—too daunting to do it myself, so why ask it of him? When he replied that he hadn’t, I asked another question that surprised him and me, “Have you ever asked how they are feeling?”

A few weeks ago I participated in the Humanities Center’s Echoes of War discussion leader training where we focused on a number of things; one that struck me was the idea that knowledge and learning can come from anywhere, if we let it. The discussion leaders and Humanities Center staff encouraged civilian participation and ensured that everyone’s voice needed to be heard.

On the first day I found myself scared, trapped in a room with strangers that would be dissecting me. Perhaps many Veterans have felt this way. But in the span of a week I learned from Veterans and civilians alike by listening and asking what their thoughts were. By creating a dialogue between all of us we were able to relate to one another’s experiences and find similarities: A driving force to help build up a community instead of separating it.

I shared my stories and shed some tears throughout the week. Often times these actions can be seen as a sign of weakness, but leaving the Humanities Center at the end of the week I left supported by new friends, new views, and a new community.

Armed with those experiences and living proof that the Humanities Center’s way of teaching worked, I sat in that small group and asked those questions. I wanted to push back, put the onus back on the Veteran, back on all of us, wanted to see where the conversation would go.

We cannot fear to speak to one another or to learn from one another.

I implore all those who feel the way the ‘quiet’ Veteran did or, if you are someone who doesn’t know how to start a conversation, just ask. If they say no, respect that. If they say yes, take the time to engage. We are all human and have good and bad days but if we, as humans, take the time to listen rather than be discouraged, we can find ourselves living in a truly engaged society.

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Dr. Kim Heikkila - Oral History and the Power of Listening

Dr. Kim Heikkila is an oral historian, educator, and independent scholar. She taught U.S. and women’s history at St. Catherine University for more than 10 years, and is author of Minnesota Book Award finalist, Sisterhood of War: Minnesota Women in Vietnam (Minnesota Historical Society Press, 2011). In 2006, she won the Oral History Association’s Post-secondary Teaching Award for teaching community college students to conduct interviews with Vietnam Veterans for the Veterans History Project. She is a Minnesota Humanities Center Echoes of War Discussion Leader and will help facilitate community conversations about war, memory, and military experiences this October in the Echoes of War discussion series held at Carleton College.

We live in a world that emphasizes speaking. From the momentary stories captured in a tweet or Facebook post to those gathered for StoryCorps or Humans of New York, from digital podcasts to published memoirs, all around us people are narrating their own lives, speaking their own truths, often to powerful effect. Although sometimes this self-expression becomes mere self-promotion, in its best instances it reflects a desire to connect to others through story – one of the central goals of the humanities. Yet even the most compelling stories need an attentive audience for their true power to take full effect. In my experience as an oral historian whose work has focused on women Vietnam Veterans, I have witnessed the power not just of storytelling, but of story listening.

Oral history is a rigorous research method that seeks to enhance our understanding of the past by recording, preserving, and disseminating firsthand accounts of historical events from those whose perspectives are not typically reflected in the dominant narrative. For my book, Sisterhood of War: Minnesota Women in Vietnam, I interviewed 15 nurses from Minnesota who served in the U.S.-Vietnam War, many of whom had shared very little about their service. They wanted to correct the historical record that had relegated their experiences to a footnote, but sometimes doubted that their stories would interest anyone else.

They needn’t have worried. Book sales exceeded expectations and large crowds flocked to events across the state to hear the nurses speak. Although it was not easy for them to share their war memories, almost all of them told me that they felt empowered for having done so, for having been heard. For the first time, one nurse told me, the people in the small town she’d left to join the Army Nurse Corps knew what she’d done during the war. Another said that the outpouring of love from male Vietnam Veterans who crowded into overstuffed rooms to listen to the nurses made the pain of reliving her war worth it. The benefits of listening also extended to those who heard: other nurse-Veterans who saw their experiences reflected in those of the Minnesota “sisters”; the former Navy corpsman who said reading the nurses’ stories helped him come to terms with his own service; the brother of one of the nurses, who stood up after hearing her speak at the Minnesota History Center and said, with tears in his eyes, that he finally felt as if he knew his own sister.

The power of oral history stems from its ability to bring storytellers and story listeners together. As Vietnam Veteran and author Tim O’Brien reminds us in his book, The Things They Carried, “Stories can save us. …The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head.” In helping to give voice and audience to those whose stories have often been neglected, oral history sheds new light on the past, enhances our present, and points the way to a better future.

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Scott Glew - The Humanities as a Bridge Over the Civilian-Military Divide

Scott Glew is a dedicated Veteran of the Minnesota Army National Guard from Elk River who clearly demonstrates his motivation to create a better world. After eight years of service, including a deployment to Iraq, he began his career as a social studies teacher. Motivated by a belief that a better future requires an informed and engaged citizenry and that education is its foundation, he is dedicated to creating a classroom environment where students are challenged to use history, civics, geography, and economics to deepen their understanding of the world and make a difference. Beyond the classroom, he is committed to improving and advocating for social studies education. Scott is an active leader in social studies curriculum and instruction within his school district. He serves on the board of directors for both the Minnesota Council for History Education and the Minnesota Council for the Social Studies and is conducting graduate research on citizenship and peace at the University of Minnesota. Scott is a recipient of the 2015 Veterans’ Voices Award.

Despite the fact that our country has been actively at war for nearly 15 years, the American people are more disconnected from our military than ever before. Collectively, we revere and love to cheer for “The Troops,” but we pay little attention to what we ask them to do, and we have a shallow understanding of what it means to experience war. In a democratic society, the consequences of this disengagement are dire. As citizens, we cannot properly empower policymakers to make good decisions about war and peace if we ourselves are not invested in the results. My concern grows even more when I think about my students, none of whom were alive on September 11, 2001. From their perspective, war is both normal and something from which they are disconnected. As our conflicts happen far away and directly involve only a tiny percentage of our fellow citizens, these connections will not develop on their own. We must consider how the humanities can help to bridge the divide between citizens and their military.

I have seen the Minnesota Humanities Center’s focus on “what connects us rather than what divides us” in action during the past year through their Veterans’ Voices program and I believe its current impact is real and its potential for the future is limitless. This Sunday, September 11, people from around the state will gather at the Veterans’ Voices Award Ceremony to recognize and hear the stories of Veterans who are making extraordinary contributions to their communities. This highly visible event is just one piece of an extensive program that is successfully connecting citizens to the diverse and complex stories of Veterans. Our collective understanding of war and peace will become richer as Veterans are empowered to share their experiences, as educators gain access to relevant professional development and resources, and as the general public comes together in dialogue to challenge conventional narratives and perceptions. The Humanities Center, through their Veterans’ Voices program, is making this happen.

My concerns are deep, but so is my hope for the future. I believe that the public truly cares about the service members and Veterans among us. While my cynical side often feels that our common expressions of support are superficial, the optimist in me believes that we want to do more, but aren’t sure how. Additionally, I get to work every day with students who are curious about the world around them and genuinely interested in stories of service and the topics of war and peace. They are also excited to collaborate and make the world a better place, and are hoping that we will show them how. It is imperative that we focus on the humanities in our communities and emphasize powerful social studies education in our schools so that we can share with each other-- as citizens--the opportunities and tools we need to grow together and develop meaningful connections with the people we send to war.

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Colleen Kelly - Applying the Humanities: Connection and Community

Colleen Kelly is an Army Reserve Veteran from Minneapolis who served for 10 years and was deployed in support of “Operation Iraqi Freedom” in 2005 and 2008. Currently Colleen is an attorney who works for Minnesota Assistance Council for Veterans. Colleen provides civil legal assistance to homeless Veterans or Veterans in crisis throughout Minnesota. She has worked to expand legal access for female Veterans, including homeless female Veterans, and focuses on helping these Veterans transition from solider to civilian. Before becoming an attorney, Colleen taught high school chemistry in the South Bronx of New York City and secondary sciences in Guyana, South America.

Prior to receiving the Veterans’ Voices Award in September 2015, I was unfamiliar with the Minnesota Humanities Center and did not fully appreciate the value of the humanities. I am embarrassed to admit it now, but I had a history of teasing my undergraduate friends who were humanities majors. I was a biochemistry major, and I judged as easy their class schedules that included  hours of reading and writing, but lacked the laboratory classes, reports, and exams of my biochemistry major. I argued both science and humanities majors had to read and write, but science majors had to apply that knowledge to practical exercises. The humanities seemed to lack the practical application which I valued in the sciences.     

Then I received a phone call from Trista Matascastillo, the Veterans’ Voices Program Officer at the Humanities Center, congratulating me on being selected for the 2015 Veterans’ Voices Award. I instantly googled the Humanities Center to learn more about this organization that had selected me for an award. The website provided an overview of the organization, but I still had no idea how my perspective of the humanities would change until I attended the Veterans’ Voices Award Ceremony. 

During the award ceremony, I learned that the Humanities Center focuses on what connects us versus what divides us as a community. This idea resonated with me because too often our society focuses on “us versus them” and how one, and only one, perspective represents “true” America. After the ceremony, I sought opportunities to attend events at the Humanities Center and became more engaged with their programming.

I attended events sponsored by the Humanities Center focused on Veteran transition issues and a public speaking training to encourage Veterans to share their stories. I attended a fundraiser for an organization working to end discrimination based on sex, gender, and sexual orientation held in the Humanities Center’s Event Center rental space, and in addition, I now serve on the board of directors of the Women Veterans Initiative, an organization that utilizes office space at the Humanities Center. During each of these events, the facility has been an open and welcoming space for all – men, women, Veterans, civilians, and even science majors – to share their stories and experiences. It is truly a place where communities can develop a broader, deeper, and more complete understanding of one another. I now believe the humanities represent a practical way to connect communities and are valuable in helping us explore and experiment with our human connections, even if they do not include hours upon hours of laboratory exercises.  

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Larry Rosen - The Diversity and Commonality of Human Experience

Larry Rosen is a senior instructor with The Moth, an organization based in New York City with a mission to “to promote the art and craft of storytelling,” and manager of The Moth Community Program, which offers workshops and performance opportunities to people who are under-represented in mainstream media or feel under-heard. Larry has been teaching, directing, and producing storytelling, theater, improvisation, and sketch comedy performance for more than 20 years, through institutions including Second City and The New York International Fringe Festival. Larry and two other instructors from The Moth Community Program came to Minnesota in May 2016 to lead a workshop for participants in the Minnesota Humanities Center’s Veterans’ Voices Storytelling Project.

In November 2014, I signed on to co-teach a storytelling workshop in collaboration with the Seattle University Project on Family Homelessness. The participants were people who’d been homeless at one time, or had somehow been touched by the experience of homelessness.

I was excited by the prospect – until about a week before the workshop, when I started to feel overwhelmed. I had no idea what this would be like.

I’d been teaching with The Moth Community Program for six years. During that time, I’d helped people develop and share personal stories about nursing, adoption, immigration, mental illness, developmental disabilities, and exoneration after years of wrongful incarceration. I had never worked on stories of homelessness.

I realized I knew very little about homelessness. I’d seen homeless people – but I had never had a conversation with anyone. I did some research, and found staggering statistics regarding the numbers of homeless individuals and families living in New York City.

But stories are about individuals, and individual journeys. And the story-building process works best when we can somehow relate to the stories being built. How would I relate to these stories? I’d never been homeless, nor did I know anyone who was homeless. If anyone I knew had ever been homeless, they hadn’t talked about it.

I thought about the folks we’d work with, and wondered: How did they get through it? What had been their journeys, and how could we best help to express them?

And then we arrived, and met these wonderful people, each of whom had applied to take the workshop. We said hello, sat down, and listened to their stories.

The stories were about parents and children, friends and support systems, rejection and rescue. Robin talked about her son. Jason spoke of his father. They were stories of sorrow, hope, failure, success, rejection, and rescue. Stories that expressed guilt, fear, frustration, respect, joy – and love.

And we got right to work, doing what we do in every workshop: we divided into small groups and, over the course of our 12 hours together, helped each storyteller pull out the pieces of his or her story, sift through them, flesh them out, and put them back together to form a strong and compelling narrative.

Again, I had not experienced the exact circumstances of the people I worked with. But I know what it is to have someone depend on me, and the fear and pain of letting them down. I’ve had things in my life I desperately wanted to change, but felt unable to, until I finally found the strength and motivation and resources to change them.

And this is what connected us – the universal, human themes of the story – just as they had connected me in past workshops to immigrants and Veterans and wrongfully-incarcerated prisoners.

At The Moth we seek to honor the diversity and commonality of human experience through storytelling. In sharing these essential human themes we are blessed to find our common humanity.

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Nick Swaggert - Veteran Volunteers: Finding Purpose in Civilian Life

Nick Swaggert is a Veteran of the Marine Corps who served since 1999 as an infantryman and was deployed twice to Iraq. Nick is a Veteran Hiring Consultant whose work has helped both Veterans and companies by bridging a gap between Veterans seeking employment and companies who want to hire Veterans. Nick is a Pat Tillman Military Scholar and currently serves as a company commander in the Marine Corps Reserve. He is also a 2015 Veterans’ Voices Awardee.

Each week I speak with five to ten recently-transitioned Veterans looking for their first post-military job. You’ve likely heard many of the themes: they don’t know where their skills transfer, they hate the interview process, and/or even more so, the networking process. The more frustrated they are, the more likely I’ll be speaking to them again in 9-12 months. These frustrated Veterans will generally find a job but they usually find it less than fulfilling. Many of them will even attempt to return to active military service. This isn’t surprising considering that while serving in the military, the mission is clear and, by definition, you are serving your country. It’s hard to beat that!

While in service to your country, the idea that you’d do something outside of your profession to better the community seems a little redundant. Most Veterans don’t immediately realize the value of volunteering and giving back when they first transition out. One of my friends had spent a year working at a Fortune 500 company in town. He asked me to lunch and told me that he didn’t think he could continue working in that role, that there was no purpose. With a wife and two small children, he was unsure of how to find purpose and support his family. He wanted to quit… I suggested that he look at one of the amazing non-profits in Minnesota and get involved somewhere that could help him find his missing purpose, like the Minnesota Humanities Center or Team Rubicon, which is Veteran-led and dedicated to disaster relief.

My friend ended up volunteering at the Minnesota Assistance Council for Veterans. His philosophy was one of “pay it forward” by assisting those at the highest risk who were experiencing homelessness, transition issues, substance abuse issues, or one of the many challenges faced by people living in the modern world. By volunteering and finding a new sense of purpose, he was able to get over the challenge that many Veterans feel--the loss of a clear mission. This volunteer activity enabled him to gain civilian work experience and further his career while maintaining his identity as someone in service to others. If you are experiencing similar challenges, seeking out a community-based service organization where you can volunteer your time, money, or energy will help you find and fill the missing purpose in your life, all while enabling you to keep giving back to the greater community.

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Dajon Ferrell - Cultivating Connection Within Your Community

Dajon Ferrell is an Army National Guard Veteran who has served as both a full-time and traditional soldier in the Army National Guard for 13 years. She has created Operation Synergy, a nonprofit that provides Veterans with mindfulness training to help restore and empower them to create a healthy and purposeful life. Committed to serving the Veteran community, she also volunteers as a peer support group facilitator and peer mentor for Wounded Warrior Project. Dajon is a 2015 Veterans’ Voices Awardee.

We live in a world filled with technology, busy schedules, and to-do lists. Go to any restaurant and look at how many people – whether alone or with someone – are focusing on their devices, whether it be a phone or tablet. We come into contact with dozens of people each day, but how many people do we really connect with? Make eye contact with?

While serving 13 years in the military, I learned the importance of quickly connecting with fellow service members. Each unit is a mix of various races, cultures, religions, and so on, but cultivating cohesion was critical to our mission and effectiveness. In fact, I became so close to the people I served with, that I found it very hard to relate to civilians upon leaving the military. It felt like an ‘us’ and ‘them’ scenario. Through volunteering and getting myself out into the community as much as possible, I was quickly reminded that we are all humans. Every day you’re passing someone who is celebrating a life event, grieving a loss, healing from a trauma, excited to be alive, or just barely making it through the day. Awareness of those around us has helped me realize that I am part of this human community.

The Veteran community has created a space of awareness around depression, suicide, and other life challenges. We are taught signs to look for and how to find help. That’s not always the case for the wider population in your community. You can help by creating bridges with people.

“As you discover what strength you can draw from your community in this world from which it stands apart, look outward as well as inward. Build bridges instead of walls.”
–Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor

How can you cultivate connection throughout your day? How can you be part of the solution to dissolving self-perceived barriers with your community? My suggestions to do this include the following:

1. Remove the word ‘busy’ from your vocabulary. When a co-worker or neighbor asks how you’re doing, resist the common reply of ‘Oh, you know, keeping busy!’ Share, open up, and you just might find a common bond.
2. Random acts of kindness. This is an easy one and you may or may not see the benefits, but try committing random acts of kindness in your neighborhood and office. You could even suggest a RAOK challenge in your community.
3. Get involved. Find out what needs your community has and give back. It doesn’t always have to be monetary. For example, Open Arms, a non-profit based in Minneapolis, is always looking for drivers to deliver meals over the lunch hour. You could do this as a family or get a group together. There are many other organizations looking for help out there. Just take a look.
4. Shift your paradigm. Simply changing your thoughts can help you cultivate connection. Instead of looking at others as ‘them,’ remember that we’re all in this together. Division doesn’t expand humanity, connection does!

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