I was called to work with a troubled 12-year-old boy. And he was troubled and had been thrown out of several private schools. The psychiatrist who contacted me had called upon me before to work with young boys he felt I could help. I met the parents, and it was clear that the father was a man who usually got his way. He owned a successful national firm and was used to being in charge and having his way, although Jeff’s mother was easy to communicate with.
The initial plan was to meet with Jeff several times weekly to work on his communication and relationship skills. As conditions would have it, his parents were planning an extensive trip, and we discussed the possibility of Jeff coming to live with us. Then, because we were getting close to summer and operating Camp Shasta, Jeff would come to camp for the summer.
Jeff loved camp, the activities, and the close living with seven other boys his age. As luck would have it, he had a fine counselor and junior counselor. They all got along and built (who could know?) relationships that continue to this day. After camp, we discussed with his parents Jeff living with us. From Beverly Hills to a small 900 sq ft. house in the valley was a significant change and challenge, but we all agreed, along with the psychiatrist, to see how it worked out.
Lenette, a credentialed teacher, knew the principal and was able to get Jeff into Junior High with the understanding that she would oversee his behavior and lessons from his classrooms. His reputation as the “troubled kid” was well known. With Lenette’s firm help, Jeff did well in High School, made the track team, and ran the 440 and the 1-mile relay. He loved to run, and we loved watching him compete. We were learning to live together, including Heidi, Brutus, and Cleo. It not only worked, but we were a family in the making.
Jeff and I did some “father/son” things. Like I taught him how to drive and use a stick shift. During the winter, while I was working for the LA Board of Education, every Saturday, Jeff and I went to our local health club for a good workout and a “plaitza.” Plaitza, Yiddish for shoulders or back, is being massaged with leaves tied together where you are pummeled by someone who enjoys seeing you suffer and sweat tubs of water. I had enjoyed the experience many times with my father, and Jeff took it in stride. I was proud of him for many reasons, but this and his exercising with me were special. And just in case you need to know more… The higher one goes in the sweat room, the hotter it is, and Jeff and I took it hot. My Pa would have been proud.
During this initial period, Lenette and I never went anywhere without Jeff. We made skiing trips to Colorado, Idaho, and Lake Tahoe. We did not leave Jeff alone at home for a long time, and when we traveled or went camping Jeff and the dogs went with us. One way or the other, we got to know each other. Once again, the potential to become family was being nurtured.
Jeff had and has a very deep and special relationship with Lenette, who nursed and nurtured him through Jr High and High School. They became so close that Jeff one day shocked Lenette by suggesting she was his real mother. While he may have wanted this to be, he recognized it was hardly possible as they are 12 years apart.
When Jeff turned 16, his father wanted to give him a brand-new car, but Lenette and I thought this was too soon and made it clear that if he took the gift, Jeff would have to return to Beverly Hills. Jeff decided to stay with us and turned down the offer. Jeff grew in many ways but still had an independent streak that was more about pushing boundaries than striving for independence. One summer at camp, he pushed hard enough and crossed a line, forcing me to send him back to Beverly Hills and his parents. He returned after that summer only with the understanding and his commitment to us to never repeat the boundary-pushing.
Jeff graduated from High School, found a job, and moved into a rented house with four guys who became his motorcycle buddies. He made the decision to volunteer for the military draft while the U.S. was getting involved in Vietnam. During basic training, Jeff volunteered for Parachute School. After completion, he was assigned to the 82nd airborne division. He was later transferred to the 101st airborne for deployment to Vietnam. The real Jeff was beginning to show himself as he had with us.
He loved the challenges and the demanding training. He was up to it and told me that night jumping was better than sex. He began to grow into his potential, which we always thought was considerable. He had some horrible experiences fighting the VC and NVA in Nam. He never jumped in Nam but was in numerous jungle encounters. He carries the scars to this day.
He made it home and almost immediately came to be with us. One morning while he was visiting, he said to me, “We need to go for a walk.” So, we bundled up and set off with our dogs on a long and forever memorable walk. I said nothing, waiting for him to say what he had to say. Then, he began to tell me about the battles he was in, the nights in the jungle listening to the VC around them, and his captain, whom he admired.
Jeff was the communications chief in charge of all radio operations for his company. It was his job to make sure they could talk with anyone they needed to when the need arose. The captain told him they were helpless without Jeff and the radios. He and the captain were inseparable. Jeff shared with me the horror stories of killing and being killed. He was scarred and would be scarred for the rest of his life. From the beginning, he fought the nightmares with therapy and group gatherings of vets with similar experiences and scars. To his great credit, he fights it to this day. Oh yes, we cried and held tight to each other and still do.
As if it was meant to be (and why not?) Jeff and Georgia renewed their relationship that began at Camp Shasta. She was now a Speech Therapist for the Colorado School System. This was a difficult time for Jeff, but Georgia was up to it and became a tremendous caregiver helping Jeff, who was doing his best to overcome the wounds of Vietnam. And, when the day came that Georgia needed Jeff to become her caregiver, he did so incredibly.
Jeff and Georgia bought land in Risk Canyon, not far from Colorado Springs, deep in the forest on a long and trying road. It was here that Jeff felt safer and where Georgia fought a long and torturous road getting to work five days a week. Jeff had a few loyal friends during this time, and they were always there to help each other. Jeff, fighting ghosts of his past, never self-destructed, but with Georgia at his side, he began to let go and open up.
He went on to the University of Nevada at Las Vegas and earned a master’s degree in Fine Arts. He was becoming his true self with Georgia’s love and nurturing. He experimented in just about every medium, taught at Kansas State University for a year, and produced sellable art. He had the ability to be a name in the art field, but this was not why he did art. His love to create is what drives him. Today, in a wood shop to envy, he creates furniture out of exotic woods and is presently creating a rocking chair. WE ARE FAMILY.
Happy New Year to all!
I am becoming—I grow each and every day—So many helped
Sy
