Once again re-publishing interviews with the homeless veterans at Loyola House. This interview with Fred was the second one I did and it comes in three parts, the third of which never made it out for public consumption. I'll be putting up part two of Fred's interview Monday and I'll post, for the first time, the final part of his story on Tuesday.
Homeless Veterans: An Interview with Fred: ‘I've had a headache everyday since 1990′
I have only done two of these so far, three if you count the one I wasn’t allowed to record. They have all started out with me saying this:
‘So, basically, I’m just going to ask you some questions about your life. You talk. I’m not going to interrupt you unless there’s something I’m dying to ask. We’ll only talk about things you’re comfortable talking about. If you tell me you don’t want to talk about something, I’m not going to press you.’
I don’t interrupt while I’m conducting the interviews, at least not until I feel it’s really my turn to talk or if I’m in dire need of clarification on a point, but I will interrupt occasionally during the writing of this one. Fred’s personality requires it.
Fred was actually the first resident of the Pembroke Loyola House that I met in person. My initial contact with anyone from Loyola was a business transaction with Jeffrey Smith, who runs the house. The next time Jeff came around, Fred was with him. Jeff introduced us and Fred, all smiles, shook my hand. Fred is the kind of guy you can’t help but like immediately. He has one of those infectious grins that make you feel like a real bastard for being grumpy about having a bad day.
After my initial interview with Will, a Loyola employee, I was invited to the house for dinner with the residents, Loyola staff and some volunteers. Fred made dinner (the best damn pizza I’ve ever had) and Jeff pulled me aside. He told me he wanted me to interview Fred next and I told him that was just fine with me. The reality was, I’d been worried Fred would be gone from the house before I had a chance to talk with him, or worse, he’d be there, but unwilling to share his story with me.
It turned out that Fred was more than willing to talk to me and, even better, he’d be around the house for quite a while, though, not as a resident. We’ll get to that eventually.
Fred’s interview started at the Loyola House in Pembroke, but every time we tried to get started, there was an interruption. The house is a busy place. There’s always someone who needs meds, or a new resident that needs guidance from one of the staff, Fred and I were advised that we couldn’t count on any kind of privacy for the duration of our interview so, after a couple cigarettes outside, I offered to drive him somewhere else so we could continue uninterrupted. Off we went.
I use a fairly antiquated method of recording interviews. It’s a grey mini-tape recorder manufactured circa 1998. I purchased it while attending Buffalo State College so I could sleep off my hangovers during PoliSci class and not miss anything. My time at Buff State was short (most likely due to attention deficit brought on by hangovers, but I’m finally finding a proper use for the tape recorder.) I bring this all up because Fred’s interview ate up both sides of one old-fashioned tape and a full side of a second, totaling about two hours of unedited interview. Because I have chosen to write as much of these stories as possible aside from the occasional ‘umm’ and ‘ahh,’ the result will be a two or three part publishing of Fred’s story. So we begin:
What branch of the military were you in?
I have to pause for a moment here, because that last statement says a lot about how Fred views the world. We all know how this story ends, but Fred never bemoans his circumstances or makes an excuse. His optimism is humbling.
The next section of the article is mainly about Fred’s wife. He jumps forward a few years after he begins to talk about her. He jumps through time while talking fairly often. You’ll find out why shortly.
The next portion of Fred’s story jumps back in time to when he left the Marine Corps and explains a bit about his disability. This is also when I started doing a bit more to clarify the timeline with him.
That’s where I’ll end the first part of Fred’s interview with more to come tomorrow, because I don’t know how to continue without going on for another two or three thousand words. Up until this point, life out of the military was tough for Fred, but not unbearable. The rest of his story takes him up and down the East Coast without his wife and children, in and out of prison and eventually to the Pembroke Loyola House.
‘So, basically, I’m just going to ask you some questions about your life. You talk. I’m not going to interrupt you unless there’s something I’m dying to ask. We’ll only talk about things you’re comfortable talking about. If you tell me you don’t want to talk about something, I’m not going to press you.’
I don’t interrupt while I’m conducting the interviews, at least not until I feel it’s really my turn to talk or if I’m in dire need of clarification on a point, but I will interrupt occasionally during the writing of this one. Fred’s personality requires it.
Fred was actually the first resident of the Pembroke Loyola House that I met in person. My initial contact with anyone from Loyola was a business transaction with Jeffrey Smith, who runs the house. The next time Jeff came around, Fred was with him. Jeff introduced us and Fred, all smiles, shook my hand. Fred is the kind of guy you can’t help but like immediately. He has one of those infectious grins that make you feel like a real bastard for being grumpy about having a bad day.
After my initial interview with Will, a Loyola employee, I was invited to the house for dinner with the residents, Loyola staff and some volunteers. Fred made dinner (the best damn pizza I’ve ever had) and Jeff pulled me aside. He told me he wanted me to interview Fred next and I told him that was just fine with me. The reality was, I’d been worried Fred would be gone from the house before I had a chance to talk with him, or worse, he’d be there, but unwilling to share his story with me.
It turned out that Fred was more than willing to talk to me and, even better, he’d be around the house for quite a while, though, not as a resident. We’ll get to that eventually.
Fred’s interview started at the Loyola House in Pembroke, but every time we tried to get started, there was an interruption. The house is a busy place. There’s always someone who needs meds, or a new resident that needs guidance from one of the staff, Fred and I were advised that we couldn’t count on any kind of privacy for the duration of our interview so, after a couple cigarettes outside, I offered to drive him somewhere else so we could continue uninterrupted. Off we went.
I use a fairly antiquated method of recording interviews. It’s a grey mini-tape recorder manufactured circa 1998. I purchased it while attending Buffalo State College so I could sleep off my hangovers during PoliSci class and not miss anything. My time at Buff State was short (most likely due to attention deficit brought on by hangovers, but I’m finally finding a proper use for the tape recorder.) I bring this all up because Fred’s interview ate up both sides of one old-fashioned tape and a full side of a second, totaling about two hours of unedited interview. Because I have chosen to write as much of these stories as possible aside from the occasional ‘umm’ and ‘ahh,’ the result will be a two or three part publishing of Fred’s story. So we begin:
What branch of the military were you in?
I was in the United States Marine Corps. I went in in 1988, it had been my ambition all my life, since I was a kid. I was born on Paris Island; my dad was in the Marine Corps. So ever since I was a kid I’ve been wantin’ to be a G.I. Joe just like my dad. It was a stepping stone actually, because a lot of things happened to me after that. It was my ambition, it was a goal; I achieved it. I strived to do that. I exercised…it was my ambition to go force recon, special forces, something like that. I was in martial arts, I boxed, I wrestled, I ran cross country, swam three periods a day in junior high, track and field. Several different sports really, gymnastics, floor exercises…I exercised all my life in preparation to go force recon.
So, when I went into the military, they told me the best way [to] achieve it was to go in ‘open contract.’ When I took the ASVAB, I scored officer material. They told me because I scored so high, they were reluctant to send me in that direction, to be a grunt, do the grunt thing, but still it was my ambition so he told me the best way to do that was to go ‘open contract’ which is 9900. So I opted to go 9900 under his advice.
When I went to boot camp…after boot camp actually, I found out they were gonna make me an electronic technician (laughs) which isn’t what I wanted, but I did it. I went to school at 29 Palms, California. It was supposed to be RADAR, it was supposed to be airplane mechanic, in the electronics field, but I ended up doing telephones, switchboards, fax machines, computers, SATCOM, but it worked out right, it worked out OK. They cross trained me into computers. I went back to school in Virginia. When I left there I went back to Okinawa and Korea, just kept goin’, but it was an experience, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I wouldn’t be sitting in front of you if it wasn’t for that.
I have to pause for a moment here, because that last statement says a lot about how Fred views the world. We all know how this story ends, but Fred never bemoans his circumstances or makes an excuse. His optimism is humbling.
The next section of the article is mainly about Fred’s wife. He jumps forward a few years after he begins to talk about her. He jumps through time while talking fairly often. You’ll find out why shortly.
I stayed in Okinawa for a while and met a woman, she’s Okinawan. We got married when I came stateside. [We} stayed together for a few years, we were planing on moving back to Japan and I sent her back first because it's bad karma for me and her to live with her parents or her sister...I'm supposed to be the supporter of the family. So I sent her back with what I had, what we had to work with. As I was preparing to leave, I got in touch with the VA [and] let them know where I was going to be. In talking with the VA I found out I couldn’t go to a different country to live, they had no VA, there was no Veteran’s Administration in any other country except here. With that, I found out I would lose my monetary benefits, my health benefits, any educational benefits, everything would belong to them.
I called my wife, explained to her the situation and asked her to come back. She didn’t want to be here. I kinda didn’t want to be here either. I loved Japan; it’s beautiful. I read, write and speak the language, so…(sighs) She said she’d come back, but she never showed up.While speaking about his wife, Fred stares at the table. He’s telling me an abbreviated story, but I start to think I understand why. I get the sense that while he’s relating the basic facts, he’s remembering the details. Maybe he’s thinking about their courtship, maybe he’s remembering a certain day they spent together happily. Whatever he’s thinking about, I can sense his loss. I picture him toward the end of his marriage on the phone with his wife in Okinawa and trying to hold it all together.. Whatever happened, this period of time still lies heavily on Fred’s mind. He returns to the story of his wife later on.
We spoke for another two months…I lost touch with her…I haven’t heard from her since.
The next portion of Fred’s story jumps back in time to when he left the Marine Corps and explains a bit about his disability. This is also when I started doing a bit more to clarify the timeline with him.
I left the marine Corps with a disability: Tension Vascular Migraines. They’re incapacitating, debilitating as they say. They can’t figure out why or what’s causing them. I’ve been dealing with it every day since 1990. I’ve had a headache everyday since 1990. My work? Holding a job, keeping a job? (sighs) At times walking from Point A to Point B or going to the bathroom to get a drink of water from the sink…there are times when I can’t even do that.Did you get out in 1990 or did you have migraines while you were still in?
I was still in.How long were you in?
’88 til ’92When your wife went back to Japan, were you still in?
We had gotten out. She didn’t want to get married while I was still in because she didn’t want to be here stateside and me get deployed so I waited until I was out of the Marine Corps. She followed me here stateside and we got married. She came here in ’92 right after my dad passed away. We got married in ’93, she stayed ’til ’94 and that’s when we planned on moving back.So are you technically still married?
Well, my understanding is, the United States….when you get out of the military has some sort of stipulation about marrying a foreign national. After the marriage they’re supposed to remain here for a year, and if they don’t, the marriage is supposed to be nullified. I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to do to check into that, but that’s something I read.Now, where were you guys living?
In Niagara FallsYou were born on Paris Island, how did you come to be in Niagara Falls?
After my mom and dad…my dad was disabled out of the military also…after he came out of the military we moved to Rochester and then to Niagara Falls. My mom’s side of the family is in Niagara Falls, my dad’s side is from Rochester.After your wife moved back [to Okinawa] and you realized she wasn’t coming back, what then?
Let’s see, (sighs) I really didn’t know if she was coming back or not. She said that she would. I knew that..I knew that a big part…when I left Japan I left a big part of me. I tried to get extended at the last moment thinking that she and I could be together because we both wanted to be there. I really don’t blame her for not wanting to come back because everyone that was here that she had come into contact with wanted to Americanize her, you know, but she’s traditional. She’s really set in her ways about her traditions, the way they do things. Because everybody kept trying to push another way onto her, she felt uncomfortable. She had no one to communicate with. She spoke English, but it was…you know, she spoke broken English. A lot of our idiosyncrasies she knew but…she was really an amazing woman. Thing was, hey, for whatever reason or the reason being that she’s there and not here now…(silence)What were you doing for work after you got out?
I wasn’t working at the time, I was still going through disability issues, the headaches were…extreme at that point. I was staying with my dad, my step-mom and my brother, I was drawing disability, It’s actually called Temporary Disability Retirement List (TDRL) out of the Marine Corps; little blue ID card and all that… They kept sending me orders to go to Bethesda, Maryland to the National Hospital but they wanted me to foot the bill, but I didn’t have that kind of money. So I was never able to make it and because they were orders, I was still under orders to go. Because I wasn’t able to go, they sent me paperwork that allowed me to opt for the VA’s plan. If I hadn’t made the next appointment they were going to cut me off altogether, I opted for that plan and I’ve been there ever since.So they gave you military orders to report to Bethesda…
Correct.For treatment…
Correct.but they wouldn’t pay for it…
Right.So then you….what next?
That’s where I’ll end the first part of Fred’s interview with more to come tomorrow, because I don’t know how to continue without going on for another two or three thousand words. Up until this point, life out of the military was tough for Fred, but not unbearable. The rest of his story takes him up and down the East Coast without his wife and children, in and out of prison and eventually to the Pembroke Loyola House.
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