Richard and Sharon and Medals and Buttons

I was at the Hickam uniform store in the final stages of getting my new Mess Dress uniform tailored when I started paying attention to a sixty-something gentleman, with his wife, at the counter talking to a saleslady about where he could find specific ribbons for a uniform. He needed to get to the Navy exchange where they maybe had some of the stuff he was looking for. The saleslady was not as helpful as he’d hoped, and I could feel frustration growing from across the room. I saw out of the corner of his wife tugging on his arm and pointing to me. He turned, and when he made eye contact I asked

“whaddya looking for?”

“Oh, the Navy Exchange. I need some ribbons and medals that I got in the Marine Corps. I need some stuff they don’t have here.”

“oh it’s right out the main gate, stay right, first exi-

“we don’t have a car- we’re just visiting”

“oh… no rental?” I asked, and I think I sounded a little more incredulous than I meant to.

“No… took the shuttle from the Hale Koa over here”

“oh- well I’ll take you guys over, it’s really close.” I knew this surprised him, so instead of waiting around for him to gather his thoughts and halfheartedly deny my offer of a ride, I ducked back into the tailor’s room to finish my business with her and take off.

I came back out a few moments later, he was waiting with his wife, looking at over-motivational Air Force memorabilia with explosions and muscular eagles on them.

“Richard. Nice to meet you”

“Jon , same here.”

“and this is my wife, Sharon”

I shook her hand, she smiled. She was delicate and tan. She was probably quite the babe in 1970. Well played, Rich.

We walk out, get in the car. Making small talk the whole way. They’re out in Hawaii for 11 days… first time in Hawaii… Rich was a Marine for 6 years, served in Vietnam, then a cop and an Army Reserve first sergeant until his retirement at the grand old age of 60. 41 years of Military service. At the same time he served 30 years as a Cincinatti Cop, and the last five years as the detention teacher at the local high school. Sharon doesn’t even attempt to get a word in edgewise.

As we’re leaving I look at her in the rearview- “Sharon- you guys have any kids?”

She taps Richard in the passenger’s seat

“Oh yeah” he says “Five: 35, 33, 32, 30 and 29… “ he went through a well-practiced monologue on kids, locations, careers, grandkids...

I asked “so what’s the occasion for wearing your uniform that you need all these medals for? going to a ball or ceremony or something?”

“Nope” said Richard “I’m just gonna take my wife out to dinner in my uniform- it still fits, and I’m going to wear it for her.” He explained that he had brought his dress Army uniform but left his accoutrements box- his medals and shiny anodized buttons sitting on the dresser back home.

“Whoa!” I said playfully… “look out ladies”

I turned to look at Sharon, she was smiling, still not speaking.

“Oh and my wife’s not being rude… she has trouble speaking.” Richard spoke as we kept driving “Last January, she was diagnosed with ALS”

Boom.

I kept driving, I think I kept a straight face, but the whole picture started to form. ALS… Lou Gherig’s disease… muscles or nerves or something just shut down… 100% fatal, takes about two years, maybe three. It’s painful; those closest to the affected have to endure watching a loved one rapidly fade from perfect health to complete paralyzation and then death.

So here I am, driving a man and his wife on a mission to find medals for his uniform so he can wear it and take her out for the night of her life. This is it; this is their big trip. 11 days in paradise, 11 days away from doctors and bad news. This is the last best week of their romance, and they both know it.

I know it now, too, so I’m getting a bit choked up in the front seat as Richard is talking a little bit about the disease and her symptoms thus far. I didn’t really hear too much.

After I got my emotions in check, I tell Rich I’m at his disposal and we’re gonna find the stuff he needed for his uniform and I would give them a ride back to their hotel.

We get a runaround at the Navy exchange, but eventually find the new uniform store and find his combat aircrew wings he earned in Vietnam. He was a crew chief on H-34’s- those old green grasshopper-looking choppers.

As a Marine he had done two combat tours in Vietnam, in the thick of the fighting. He didn’t say much about combat. He said it was a tough job but he enjoyed flying- the pilots would actually let him take the stick from time to time when they were on training missions or in safe areas- that way he could perform basic flight operations and get them home if they were wounded or killed.

We get what we need on the Navy base, I give them a bit of a driving tour, show them the subs and destroyers. We continue on to the Army base, and Richard tells me about his job after Vietnam.

He did two years as a body escort- 1970 and ’71. He was a sergeant, and his job was to meet the body of a Marine killed overseas as it landed in the United States, and accompany it home and be at that Marine’s side until he was laid to rest. Richard said it was at times a wonderful and at other times a horrible job. These were the days of the draft, so some of the time he was accompanying the body of a Marine who hadn’t wanted to be a Marine, and the family saw him as the symbol of the enemy. Other times, the family was incredibly gracious and appreciative for his service- in one Texas town he was given a car. Richard still does burial detail and greets returning soldiers- live ones- at the airport whenever he has time.

We get the rest of his medals and buttons at the Army base. We get Mexican food near the Airport. We talk for 2 hours, and Sharon looks through all the pictures of Rebekah and the boys on my phone. She writes notes and questions on a little pad of paper, and she laughs at our jokes.

I pick up Rebekah (her flight from DC came in that afternoon)… she was confused and surprised but ultimately fine with the sixty-somethings needing a ride back downtown. We have a pleasant drive to Waikiki, drop them off and exchange phone numbers. Sharon smiles, gives me a big hug and a piece of paper. We say goodbye, I look at the paper.

So… the next few miles of driving are mostly me crying my big softie eyes out because I was simultaneously heartbroken for Richard and Sharon but honored to have been able to help them for an afternoon. I’m going to save that note for a long time.

So on Veteran’s day, I’m going to think about Richard and Sharon.

Sharon’s probably not going to be able to live without a machine in 12 months, and most likely will be gone in less than two years.

Richard’s a guy who between Vietnam, two years of Marine funerals and thirty years of police work has probably seen every rough thing a man can see, and the roughest days are ahead of him.

And all he wants more than anything to take his darling bride out for a night on the town dressed the best he can- in his uniform- with medals and buttons shining.

Sometimes people sure are wonderful. Semper Fi, Rich.