Here's one for Hoke

and what he carried

This grainy pic from summers 1962 or 63, four guys working for the U S Forest Service in the Bitterroot Range on the Idaho Panhandle. Left to right, Hoke , Gary, me, Jimbo.

Hoke died on November 19th, 2025. Just a few days ago. His wife Rebecca let us know. His death hits me with a depth of grief and loss I —somehow — didn’t anticipate—though his physical trials and challenges had been mounting for years. But the soul feels what it feels.. . That’s why I’m writing this.

We were 1961 grads from the same small town high school in Minnesota. Vietnam War was just heating up —from the USA view. We knew nothing of Vietnam’s long history of conflicts, a small nation against giants—France, China, regional.

Hoke and I were best and close friends, from 2nd grade through high school. Good students, liked books, curious about history and the world, teammates in football. Made up our own strategic war board games with National Geographic maps.

One summer drove west to work for the Forest service—housed at the Bungalow Ranger Station, (now gone) , northern Idaho panhandle, lived in a tent, learned how to sharpen and handle a double blade axe, hike through trackless and often steep terrain. We were trained—sort of—to fight forest fires but we didn’t have any of note. We cleaned up the debris left by the extensive logging in the range. On a day off enjoy a beer or more in the small town of Weippe,Idaho (pop maybe 400) . Lots of stories.

Went off to different colleges and stayed in touch.

In a move that surprised me, after graduation from a prestigious liberal arts college he joined the Marines. The draft was on—Vietnam getting hotter and hotter. Hoke joined the Marines and was sent to Vietnam . In combat. Led a platoon. Told of being blown out of his bunk a few times. Plugging his ears with the filter from cigarettes as they sent off 105mm artillery rounds. . Wrote home asking a dentist we knew to send him the small mirrors and picks used to check teeth—so he could check for hidden explosive booby traps and trip wires.

Gary and Jimbo were drafted. Gary got sent to Germany. Jimbo to Korea.

I thought then 1966-67-68—that the war was based on lies—that the officials running it were lying to us. They were. Draft board said I was 1-A, so my number would come up soon. I went down to the Federal Building in Minneapolis to enlist. Could not sit it out. Maybe—I could be a medic?

In 4h grade I had rheumatic fever, missed some weeks of school. Penicillin shots each week. Bed rest. Full recovery. When I got to go back to school— a great feeling!—I ran into the classroom and sat on Hoke’s lap, two 10 year old boys, laughing with joy.

Wrestled and played football in high school, did heavy physical labor in summer jobs with lumber yards and farms. Now stood in line as the Army intake clerk looked me over——eyes checked, no flat feet, no hemorrhoids, but then the checklist got to rheumatic fever. Yes. Sent a few blocks away to a Medical Arts Building, where a tall man in a white coat held a stethoscope to my chest for about 5 seconds, wrote a note on his pad, told me to take it back to intake. —I did. I was out.

“Yesterday This Day’s Madness did prepare;
To-morrow’s Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.”

Omar Khayyam.

The madness of the 1960’s—a decade of assassinations. .

Medgar Evers 1963 June CIVIL RIGHTS
John F. Kennedy 1963 November.
James Chaney 1964 June FREEDOM RIDER
Michael Goodman 1964 June FREEDOM RIDER Led to the Civil Rights Act of 1964
Andrew Schwerner 1964 June FREEDOM RIDER
Malcom X 1965 February
Martin Luther King Jr. 1968 April

Robert F. Kennedy 1968 June
Fred Hampton 1969 December

We were young men in those years—in our 20’s. Each killing we thought—somehow—we will recover. the nation will right itself. Order and balance will be restored. Somehow.

The lies about Vietnam multiplied and grew more elaborate as the war expanded——and where confronted by multiple reliable sources.

For example—On Oct 28, 1964, U.S. officials denied any involvement in the bombing of North Vietnam. This was one of many lies told by the U.S. government throughout the decades-long war.

The North Vietnamese reports of the bombing were shared in the United States by activists in the Civil Rights Movement and returning soldiers in popular education resources such as:

• Vietnam: An Antiwar Comic Book by Julian Bond,

• whistleblowers such as Daniel Ellsberg and Anthony Russo, and

• underground newspapers produced by soldiers around the world.

If America’s soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read “Vietnam.”

— Martin Luther King Jr., 1967

The official lies piled up and became unsustainable against the growing amount of facts, personal observations of men and women in Vietnam and returning, brave journalists,clergy, reporters and TV and magazine and newspaper pictures of the devastated land, the wounded, the killed. Then this—

The 1972 photo was officially titled “The Terror of War.” It captures the moment when 9-year-old Phan Thi Kim Phuc fled naked, her arms outstretched, after South Vietnamese bomber planes mistakenly targeted her village Trảng Bàng.

For many—this picture was the break point.

Hoke came back—got married, made a life as a small town lawyer. Also a first rate carpenter. Designed and built his own cottage, constructed a harpsichord from a kit, played it well, continued to love and acquire books, history, and memories.

We talked less as the years went on—he in Maine—me back on Minnesota. Sometimes the exchange was—WTF is happening to this nation? To us? This time? We didn’t talk politics much—or one party or another—a certain suspicion and disdain for both, both flawed, both capable of deceit—then one went further and further adrift until—Trump. These last few months his disdain for Draft Dodger Bone Spur Donny was clear—as it was for Pitiful Pete H. You don’t puff out your chest and strut and shout if you’ve actually been in combat, walked into fire. Hoke had. He never made anything of it.

He carried the weight of Vietnam and made a life—then the physical toll piled up—vision blurred, balance wobbly. Walker. Wheel chair. Assisted living. We—some 8 of us from the same 1961 class— all suspect Agent Orange was a factor in his decline, but the VA said no.

Hoke is gone now—just days ago—and I miss him.

First pic below—USA chaotic pull out from Afghanistan, departure from the Kabul Airport , August 2021. Desperate man handing his baby up.

This pic from the chaotic USA pull out from Saigon, April 1975.

46 years between these two images of desperation,chaos, and billions and billions of dollars and thousand and millions ands of lives.

Where are the stark images from Gaza, Ukraine, Yemen, the boats blown up in the Caribbean, that we ALL see?

That lead us to say—Enough!!

“Yesterday This Day’s Madness did prepare;
To-morrow’s Silence, Triumph, or Despair…”

Hoke was long gone from Vietnam when the collapse happened and was an insightful observer of the debacle in Afghanistan . FUBAR. (if you know—you know) .

The lies, desperation, bellowing and yelling “War!!” of the Trump regime have deep roots. The assassinations in the 1960’s—look at that list again—have wounded us in ways I feel. . My friend walked in the violence of Vietnam—wondered out loud with me if we—the people of the USA—and the politicians and planners and strategic think tanks—men (mostly men, nearly always men) who sit in comfort and send young men and women off to kill and be killed—will ever learn.

Will we? Ever? Learn?

Gotta—keep trying—

Miss ya Hoke.