Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, of course. People experience it after events that shake the foundations of their beliefs and understanding of their reality. Its effects are most dramatic among folks who experience violence firsthand – more so than among the rest of us, but the effect of PTSD is nonetheless real for those of us who experience it at a greater distance.
It was the summer of 1967. I was in my last semester of my senior year as an undergraduate at the University of Texas. My roommate, Wilbur (Will), had been drafted to the Vietnam war, and I was living alone in the apartment that we two had taken some months earlier. The reports of the six-day war in the middle east was what I saw each afternoon when I returned to our apartment after class.
Tonight, watching the news of the unfolding conflict in Ukraine, I had flashbacks of that week in 1967. I am much older now, yet it was a bit unsettling. I can only say that I hope that this conflict ends with a minimal loss of life and with the righteousness ascendant.
“Will, my friend, wherever you are, rain justice on these motherfuckers.”