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By: Petty Officer 2nd Class Patrick Kelley, U.S. Coast Guard
I write novels for a living, but
today I thought I’d traffic in truth.
We all know it’s important to
remember those who gave their lives for our country. But that sentiment can
become an abstract notion on a long, sunny, barbecuing weekend. If you want to
pause for a bit and delve deeper into the sacrifices our servicemen and women
make, any one of these phenomenal non-fiction books will take you into their lives in
vivid, personal detail.
Unbroken: A World War II Story
of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption, by Laura Hillenbrand (2010). The life of Louis Zamperini reads
like a novel. But it’s heartbreakingly, astonishingly true. A young
troublemaker turned U.S. Olympian becomes a WWII airman. He’s shot down over
the Pacific, and then things start to really get bad. Hillenbrand captures his
life with such grace and devotion to facts that her book is a non-fiction
accomplishment nonpareil. Although nothing matches the
A Rumor of War, Philip Caputo (1977). Caputo was a U.S. Marine
in 1965. He served a 16-month tour in Vietnam. He survived and came home. And
wrote about it. About, as he says, “the things men do in war and the things war
does to men.” The impact this book had when published can’t be overstated. It
shook the country’s indifference toward the servicemen and women who fought
there. I read this book in college. I think it should be required reading for
everyone – a lesson that wars are not abstract, and the people lost to the
killing are not statistics.
Black Hawk Down, by Mark Bowden (1999). This is a riveting
read that rips along like the latest thriller. But we know it’s true. Bowden’s
book chronicles a 1993 battle in Mogadishu, Somalia, that was not part of any
official “war,” even though it was the most intense firefight for American
servicemen since Vietnam. I’m including it because it serves as an important
reminder that U.S. service men and women are put in danger – and many die –
even when there isn’t an official war on. They deserve just as much recognition
as those casualties of better known conflicts.
I felt a post on Springsteen on Memorial Day was fitting. Don't see the connection? Stay with me.
The other night, I stumbled across an old documentary on Bruce Springsteen. It was near the beginning, and quickly caught my attention. Here was a guy who skipped his own high school graduation, who they talked about being socially awkward.
And we all know how successful Springsteen has been.
I mean, can we even agree on his best song? For me?
It wasn't just the music that caught my attention in this special. It was the substance. With two teenagers, one of whom has already been in the, "I hate school" state for what seems like forever, and the other has been feeling stressed and unhappy at school and socially lately.
They actually said they'd consider switching schools. And believe me, that's a sign that things are bad.
I rewound the program and started recording it, thinking that perhaps the kids would find some encouragement in knowing that someone who's gone on to be as successful as Springsteen wasn't always Mr. Popular.
Instead, the program took my respect for him to a whole new level, got me thinking about Memorial Day, and actually reassured me creatively.
Memorial Day, because in the wake of 9/11, Bruce Springsteen picked up the phone and called widows in New Jersey, and listened to people. He internalized all of that loss and the impact of that horrific day, and produced a remarkable album, that's been my favorite Springsteen for years.
Oddly enough, as a teenager, I'd fallen into the trap of perceiving him as jingoistic, and a little too "ra ra America" for my tastes. Perhaps that's something Americans can't fully understand, but the American psyche and patriotism is something I've explored in my marriage, and my day to day experience, and is something for another post, another day.
It takes really reading the lyrics to appreciate the message.
Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that's been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering up
Born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Got in a little hometown jam so they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land to go and kill the yellow man
Born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
I was born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says "son if it was up to me"
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said "son don't you understand now"
Had a brother at Khe Sahn fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there he's all gone
He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now
Down in the shadow of penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain't got nowhere to go
It isn't the jingoistic anthem some believed it to be. It's a work that runs much deeper, that explores a failing of a society towards its own citizens. It's hard to see it as validation of the American dream; if anything, it seems rather hopeless upon examination of the lyrics. Although Springsteen did not fight in Vietnam because he failed his medical, he's carried some sense of understanding of the price of war on those who have, and it's been reflected in his music.
What's curious is that the same album produced songs like Dancing in the Dark, and one of my other personal favorites, Glory Days - another song that's nostalgic, yes, but hardly idealistic and optimistic.
I think one of the things that really struck me about Springsteen when I was watching the documentary was how diverse his music is. I should know - I do not own Born in the USA (though I should) but I do own Devils and Dust, and The Ghost of Tom Joad.
And my personal favorites?
In light of recent events, how could anyone talk about the problems in Baltimore and Ferguson without thinking of this Springsteen classic?
When I listen to Springsteen, there is a sense of nostalgia. Not because the music has aged. Rather, it's got a timelessness to it that makes it as relevant today as it was when it was recorded and released. The nostalgia is for the delight of walking to town and going to the furniture store, which had a selection of records (yes, records!) at the back, and coming home with that new prize. It was for the incredible sense of discovery of the B sides, the songs you weren't hearing on the radio, that curiously almost always seemed to resonate with me even more than the singles.
It reminded me of how much I appreciate an artist who has depth and range, who doesn't produce different versions of the same album over and over again. Springsteen may not have been hanging out with the cool kids in high school, but by digging deep within himself and baring his soul through his music, and not being afraid to write and sing about issues that were important to him and his convictions, he's been able to connect with a far greater audience worldwide.
I found the show inspiring, and reassuring.
You see, for quite some time now, the only projects I've been dabbling with have fallen well outside of my main genre focus, and I've struggled with that. I'd never want crime fiction fans to feel I have anything other than the deepest respect for them, but I also want the freedom to explore new themes and to do that through other genres where appropriate.
When I watched the special on Springsteen, I remembered that a career is made of much more than top 10 hits, and it all has value. People are more than one interest, more than one style, more than one show or type of music they like. We're a collection of pieces that somehow mesh together. I can love Bloodlines and love Orphan Black and The 100, and there's nothing contradictory in saying that, because people are complex.
Oddly enough, Victor Gischler posted something on Facebook that resonated with me, and ties in to my thoughts for this post:
Somehow, through all of this, I realized I didn't have to try to 'fit in' or feel restricted by genre. I can push the boundaries. Heaven help me, I don't mean transcend the genre, because I don't feel crime fiction is second to anything. I just mean move outside what's typically expected and incorporate elements from anything appropriate.
After all, if we feel trapped inside expectations, don't we run the risk of being stagnate?
I think the only crime is producing something predictable.
And perhaps this feels like a series of disjointed random thoughts, but in my mind before I sat down at the computer, my tribute to The Boss was grander, and it all connected for me.
Tonight our bed is cold
I'm lost in the darkness of our love
God have mercy on the man
Who doubts what he's sure of
