Rhonda's Notebook

By Rhonda Westfall

On sickness, books, and Vietnam memories

Now I know what Punxsutawney Phil feels like on Groundhog Day. After what seemed like an eternity, I crawled out of my flu-den last week to be greeted by lots of folks anxiously awaiting my return - and mounds of assorted work assignments.

All right. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit.

There were only a few people - and I'm not sure how eager they were for me to return - but the work part is accurate.

It's amazing how things can pile up in only a couple of weeks. Anyway, I've pretty much dug myself out and am back on track - almost. For anyone who has had the nasty bug that's been floating around all winter - and I know that covers a whole bunch of people - you have my complete sympathy. It was no fun at all.

The only good thing to come from being out of commission for awhile was the opportunity it offered to read - not the "work" reading that I do every day, but pleasure reading.

Once I reached the point where having my eyes open didn't create major headaches, the best flu cure I found was curling up in my patchwork quilt with a good book.

Several books, in fact.

In the spirit of March is Reading Month, I'll pass on two titles which I thoroughly enjoyed. One is a relatively new book by a "first-time" author (if there really is such a thing - I bet he had plenty of pieces rejected before landing a publisher), and the other was written nearly 10 years ago - but it was new to me.

Ironically, or perhaps not, both deal with the subject of war.

"Cold Mountain" is the debut work of Charles Frazier, who ended up receiving a National Book Award for his effort. Based loosely on letters preserved from the Civil War, "Cold Mountain" tells the story of a soldier's long trek from the battlefield back to his home in the mountains of North Carolina - and to the woman he left behind.

This is not a "quick read." One of the reviews on the cover calls it "a Whitmanesque foray into America: its hugeness, its freshness, its scope and its soul."

In other words, be prepared for lots and lots of descriptive phrases, many of which deal with the natural beauty of the landscape in the southern Blue Ridge Mountains - the home which the deserting solider walks back to.

In spite of its wordiness, or perhaps because of it, Cold Mountain was a perfect book for "flu reading" - more enjoyable if taken in moderate doses, not in a big gulp.

Although the second selection, Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried," is equally well-written, the style - and consequently reading speed - could not be more opposite. It was nearly impossible to put down this selection of short "fiction" stories about events connected to the Vietnam War.

First published in its entirety in 1990, the stories evoke haunting memories of a time in our not-so-distant past that still fill many souls with sadness - mine included.

Vietnam stirred so many conflicting emotions among people of my generation. Even today, it's nearly impossible to describe the feelings of loss and heartache that lay buried just beneath the surface. Somehow, "The Things They Carried" manages to dig up and bring into the light at least a portion of those emotions.

The characters could easily be any number of the young men from Clinton County who went away to Vietnam - some of whom never came back. For me, it's impossible not to think about one soldier in particular - Brent Law. A classmate and friend, Brent was killed July 21, 1970. He was just 20 years old.

What a loss - an unfillable void - was created by his death and that of the thousands of others who made the ultimate sacrifice. We'll never know the number of potential leaders our communities lost. How many families were never created? What vast amounts of untapped knowledge and experience were left behind in the paddies and fields of Vietnam? They're gone - but certainly not forgotten.

We were among the things they carried 30 years ago into that war. Today, we carry memories of them with us always.