WWII Veteran No Longer Feels Forgotten with Thousands of Birthday Cards

WWII veteran gets birthday surprise thanks to viral post
by KATU News
December 24th 2016

"Oh, God there's thousands of cards here," said Hardey. "I would never get them all read."

HILLSBORO, Ore. — A WWII veteran, feeling forgotten all these years, got the birthday surprise of a lifetime thanks to the help of an Instagram post that went viral.

Jack Hardy, 99, receives thousands of letters for his birthday.

Birthdays mean another year, and another couple of cards just from family and friends, but this year, when Jack Hardey turned 99, people around the world celebrated with him.

This soldier became and internet sensation thanks to a family friend who posted a message online encouraging people to send Hardy a card for his birthday this year. More and more posts were shared on social media and soon thousands of people responded.
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Marine Gets Home For Christmas As Gift From Gold Star Family

Gold Star Family Helps Holland Marine Get Home For Christmas To See Sick Mother
CBS Boston
December 24, 2016

“It just wouldn’t have been Christmas,” his mother said.

HOLLAND (CBS) — The smiles were never-ending after Marine Lt. Josh Peloquin arrived home early Saturday morning.

“I almost toppled him over and I started bawling my eyes out,” said Josh’s mother, Tonya Olsen. “I just didn’t want to let go.”

His coming home was more important than ever this year, because Olsen is very sick.

“This year has been such a hard year,” she said. “We lost my father, his grandmother, and we found out I have pulmonary fibrosis.”

Josh is stationed off the coast of Africa. Two weeks ago, he was told he was going back to the US for Christmas.

But he couldn’t afford the trip home to Holland, Massachusetts.

“My mom is really sick, and I had to make the tough decision to save my money,” he said.

A Gold Star family from the Cape who had lost their son in combat heard about Josh’s family and plight–and they paid for his plane ticket home.
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PTSD Suicide Awareness Same As Empty Box For Christmas

PTSD Awareness Nothing More Than Empty Box with Pretty Packaging
Combat PTSD Wounded Times
Kathie Costos
December 25, 2016

When I think about all the results of a decade of folks running around the country screaming they are raising awareness about veterans committing suicide, it may all look pretty but in fact, there is nothing inside of what they are willing to give.

This morning I was thinking about how some things are not what they appear to be. I have a regular day job in an office within a cubical. One of the departments has taken an empty cubical and filled it with boxes wrapped in Christmas paper. There are stacks of gifts that look pretty but have nothing else to offer. After Christmas, the paper will be taken off, thrown away and the boxes will be recycled. There will be no traces of joy left behind, nor reminders of the fact someone cared enough to think of the what was within the wrapping.

Everyday more and more veterans have only one wish, that the next day would be better than their last worst day. One reason to reach out one more time at the glimmer of hope before their eyes. What they, too often, discover is that glimmer turns out to be nothing more than the metal tips at the end of a taser gun. The pain they felt is still there but it hurts even more knowing there is no hope in the hype being sold as help.

What good do push-ups do them? No help for them but plenty of feel-good moments for the folks lining up to do them. What good does it do to write a check to support the talk about what someone thinks if happening when talking is free? What good does it do to set up a Facebook group with thousands of followers if the only support being given boils down to "I'll pray for you" which again, is free. 

The doers simply do not want to invest the time of researching what the veterans really need. They do not shop around for the best help available and support that work already being done. They probably know more about their cell phone than they do about how to save a life.

Every time you argue with these folks and try to ask them to specify exactly what their goal is, they respond with "raising awareness" yet do not even know the basics. Asked who they are trying to raise awareness to and they reply with "veterans." Yet somehow they missed the part about veterans already know they are killing themselves but what they do not know is how to stay alive.

I did not start out over three decades ago to make this my life mission. All I wanted to do was figure out what I was getting into when I met a Vietnam veteran. I had to fill my head with facts before I opened my mouth, so I sat in the library with stacks of clinical books and a dictionary. The more knowledge I gained, the more I knew why he had PTSD along with millions of more veterans the average citizen had no clue about.

Back then, there were plenty of folks, just like me spreading the word. Backed up with enough facts to offer comfort, understanding and above all else, hope that healing was possible. It was harder then because we did not have computers or cell phones. We used hand written letters to the editors of newspapers and eventually, other researchers, used typewriters to write books before bookstores had self-help sections.

The key in all of this is, back then it was actually producing better results considering there were a millions more veterans still alive in the country. For proof of this, you need to look at the study from the Department of Veterans Affairs on the all too often quote of "22 a day" veterans committing suicide.

So, if you really want to do something about saving their lives, stop talking and start learning. Stop offering empty stunts to get attention for yourself when they have been forgotten. Stop supporting stuffing when they keep suffering. If saving their lives is actually as important to you as you claim, then invest the time to prove it and then, only then, will you actually do something to save the "one too many" everyone keeps talking about.

The results produced in the last decade are more despicable than re-gifting last years fruitcake and expecting it to be appreciated by the recipient when they rush to the bathroom.

Surviving sadness at Christmas

Surviving sadness at Christmas
by Kathie Costos
Wounded Times Blog
December 20, 2012

When Christmas comes the images we see are of happy families, gathering together to open gifts and eat huge meals. We see them going shopping, wrapping gifts, writing out addresses on cards to people to let them know they are thinking of them in this season of "love" and all is right with the world. If you think that is what Christmas is then you won't want to read anymore of this. For too many families, Christmas is not a happy time.

Fifty years ago, I went to see Santa just like every other kid in America. I was thinking about toys because that was what my Mom told me he gave. I didn't ask him for the miracle my family needed. I don't remember what I asked him for, but I bet I asked him for a baby doll since that is what is sitting next to me in the next picture. It was 1962.

This is what Christmas looked like for me and my two brothers. My oldest brother Nick is sitting on the sofa and Warren is on the floor with me. If you think we didn't look too happy, we weren't. Our family was not what most families were but at age of 3 I didn't know that. To me, it was the only "normal" I knew.

We didn't have much money but my Mom did the best she could to buy us what we wanted, what she thought would make us happy even if it was just for a little while. She knew our lives were hard. My Dad was an angry alcoholic at that time. I didn't know other Dads were not like that until I got older and had more friends.

Nick was sweet and smart. He was my hero. He was always there, watching over me. Considering I was always getting into some kind of trouble, he had his hands full. I kept wondering who would be watching over him when I could hear him crying in our room. Three of us had to share the bedroom since we didn't have enough money to buy a house. We lived in an apartment in my uncle's house.

I thought if we had enough money, then we'd be happy and my Dad wouldn't be so mad all the time. I was wrong. By the time my parents bought their first house, my Dad had become violent. He beat my brother Nick most of the time and broke things around the house when he got an argument with my Mom. By then I knew that the way we lived was far from "normal" and I wanted what everyone else had.

In the summer of 1963 my family went to a drive-in movie. One of the things we did together that was a happy time. My Mom made bags of popcorn and we put on our pajamas, piled into the station wagon with our pillows and had our adventure.

When my Mom went to buy sodas, my Dad stayed in the car and my brothers took me to the play ground areas. I wasn't allowed to go into the big kids area by myself. One night, I got away from them, headed to the huge slide, climbed to the top and suddenly I realized it was terrifying without my brother Nick. I froze at the top, clinging to the hand rails. The kid behind me was yelling at me to go, but I couldn't. He pushed me hard on my right side and I went over the left side of the slide. I fell head first onto the concrete. Nick found me laying on the ground and thought I was dead.

Long story short, after the hospital stay, my scull was cracked and I had what we now know as traumatic brain injury. I couldn't talk right anymore but no one connected the changes I went through to the accident.

Things at home were better for a long time. My Dad wasn't drinking much and I wasn't waking up in the middle of the night crying because of the fights. Then it all started again. By Christmas, I wanted peace back so I bashed my head against the wall over and over to try and crack it again thinking my Dad would stop hating and start loving again.

Growing up I looked like everyone else but did not live like everyone else. My Dad stopped drinking when I was 13. He never drank after that. He had a lot of heart attacks and strokes but said he wasn't going to put his family through that again. He passed away at 58. My brother Warren died in his 40's, Nick died at 56 and my Mom passed away at 85.

I've had some years when there was plenty of money to buy gifts and send boxes of Christmas cards out just as I've had years when there was not enough money to pay bills. When most people went to the malls and checked sales, I avoided them.

If you are having a hard time this Christmas, know you are not alone. Here is some advice for surviving sadness at Christmas.

First remember that just because we celebrate the birth of Christ on December 25th, it is not the day he was born and it is not the day the wise men showed up with gifts. Joseph and Mary didn't buy Jesus gifts. They gave Him love. He was born into poverty and spent His three years preaching living as a homeless man depending on the kindness of strangers while giving gifts far beyond the tangible. He gave healing, hope and compassion that lasted well beyond a day. He didn't celebrate Christmas but He did celebrate life even though He knew how His life would end and when.

Some want to pretend that the way Christ was crucified was not the way His time on earth was supposed to end. They are missing the real powerful reality of He knew exactly how much He was going to suffer and exactly how many people would turn against Him but he still healed the sick, made the blind see, preached about loving and compassion even though He knew none of that would be there for Him in the end. John was the only friend staying by His side when the rest abandoned Him. His last words were about forgiving.

Christmas shouldn't be about buying gifts or regretting we don't have any to give. It should be about what true love is and what we give that cannot be bought, broken or worn out. It is about giving real love.

There was a time when I thought people really cared about me when my mailbox was full of cards and people showing they were thinking of me. Much like growing up was different than how it seemed, so were these empty thoughts. When I sent out a lot of cards, I got a lot back. The last few years have been financially hard and there hasn't been extra money for cards or stamps. This year I received a total of 5 cards. That made me stop and think about how foolish I had been thinking the world would fall apart if I didn't buy stuff for other people.

They don't care any more or less of me than they would otherwise. Most of the people I know don't really know me, what I do, how I feel, what I need or what I want out of life any more than I know them. Just as it was when I was a kid, normal for one family is not normal for others. Stop thinking that this one day means more than any other day.

Christ should live in our hearts, our deeds, our giving what we have to those in need in great and small ways as long as it is done with love. When you give anything, expect nothing back other than the feeling you get inside doing it. Don't think that you will matter more or less to the people in your life who do really care about you. If you have pain, share it because someone out there will know exactly what you're talking about and feeling just as alone as you do while no one else will understand. Let them know you do understand and give them a gift that will help the rest of their lives.

My gift to you is forgiveness. You didn't deserve to be treated the way you were in your life anymore than I did as a child. You are not responsible for what other people do anymore than I was. Let go of what happened in your own lives by making peace with it and forgive people who harmed you as well as yourself. You are not just some name in an address book that gets pulled out once a year with a check box indicating you sent them a card last year. The people in your life are in your life everyday. The friends you have were strangers at one time, so if you ran out of friends, there is a stranger today that can be your friend tomorrow. What you think is "normal" for everyone else is not really what it seems so stop thinking everyone else is happy, surrounded by love and an abundance of all they want.

I looked like every other kid 50 years ago and asked Santa for what all girls my age asked for but I needed a lot more than he could deliver. What I got sustained me through every heartache and hardship. I got hope that tomorrow will be better than this day and if not, then yesterday didn't destroy me. I survived it then and can do it again today. So can you.

92 Lost in Black Sea Russian Military Plane Crash

No apparent survivors in deadly Russian plane crash
CNN
By Max Blau
Updated 6:02 AM ET, Sun December 25, 2016

(CNN)A Russian military plane reported missing Sunday with 92 people aboard has crashed, leaving no apparent survivors and a trail of plane wreckage in the Black Sea near Sochi, according to the Russian Defense Ministry.

A Tupolev Tu-154 plane that was carrying 84 passengers and eight crew members disappeared from radar Sunday morning local time after taking off from the Adler airport near the Black Sea city, state-run RIA Novosti news agency reported.

The plane, which first took off from Moscow, was headed to the Russian Hmeymim airbase in Latakia, Syria, where the country has a large military presence, for a concert ahead of New Year's Eve, a source told Russia's state news agency Tass.
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