It's Thanksgiving

It’s getting dark outside.  The traffic began backing up at about noon today.  The day before Thanksgiving in the US is almost not a workday.  The phones don’t ring very often.  The email slows down and everyone seems to have a picture of roast turkey in their heads.  I will not be at the 6am door buster sale on Thursday morning.  It’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it?  “Black Friday” used to be the shopping day but now “Turkey Thursday” has become fair game for the merchants.  This used to a family holiday.  Now the commentators are all making jokes about the inevitable family squabbles when we all get together.  I’m sure it happens sometimes but it’s not what I remember.  My parents and grandparents are gone now but I can picture them very clearly in my mind.  We moved every year for a long time while I was growing up, but no matter where we were, we made the trip back to the farm.  It was a real homecoming. It was not a huge family gathering but with aunts and uncles and cousins and eventually grandchildren, we could put 20 or 25 people at a couple of big tables and one little one for the smallest of us.  It was a grand feast, making the side dishes while the turkey baked.  There was always a big discussion about how long to cook the bird.  It was always a difference of opinion but somehow it inevitably came out fine. Early on (read, many years ago) the Detroit Lions were the only professional football team that would play on Thanksgiving Day and they to work to find an opponent.  The dessert was planned for about the middle of the first quarter (I can’t wait to blog about Grandma’s pies, yum, yum).  Nothing much ever happened in the game until after that. Then maybe we would go outside at half-time and throw the ball around, "while the women talked". (Boy, will I hear about that remark!) The day dripped with tradition and it was really something to look forward to.  Maybe we’d even get a few flakes of snow or, even a snowstorm every few years. But it was just us.  All together. Enjoying each other’s company. There was love in the house. And it was a very American holiday. Purely American in fact.  It was Abraham Lincoln who made it so, during the Civil War yet. I like Thanksgiving.  I hope we’re not losing it to another commercialization that only points us to a special savings event. I’m already missing the left-over turkey between two slices of Wonder Bread with a lot of mayonnaise on both sides. Wonder Bread is gone and television is so full of entertainment, that there is hardly any time left to talk. I hope we do though. I hope we spend Thanksgiving day with people we love. It should be more than an American holiday.  It should be celebrated the world over, while we all take the day off from whatever we’re fighting for and simply enjoy the day together. I don’t know why I wrote this except that I noticed it was getting dark and I started to think about tomorrow and making the drive home. Let’s make it a good day. Happy Thanksgiving.

Breaking Barriers

About a month ago, we lost one of our most decorated soldiers.  Three tours in Vietnam as a combat medic, six purple hearts and three Silver Star medals for bravery changed Bill Koutrouba’s life forever.  He suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as a result of his service and became a tireless advocate for the thousands who served and needed help from the condition.

Bill was 70 when he died and the last twenty years of his life were better because of a decision he made with a group of his peers to go back to the battlefields where their traumas occurred. In the late 1980’s, going back to Vietnam was not an easy proposition.  Our government still didn’t recognize the country.  The wounds from the war were still open and it wasn’t something that many people would talk about at all.

When newsman and documentarian Steve Smith called me to talk about the group of vets from American Lake Hospital in Tacoma who wanted to return with their therapists to the actual scenes that had traumatized them, I really didn’t know what to think.  Steve and I were both vets and had become friends through work. Therefore, immediately, we had a connection that carried us through what became an amazing,  life-altering project.

With the proper supervision, Steve had taken the group to see the movie “Platoon” and gotten their reactions for a story about PTSD. After that experience, the vets themselves decided they wanted to return to Vietnam but there were no sanctions, no clearances on either side and, of course, no money.

I jumped in with both feet and Steve and I eventually found a haven at the phone company that had a formal group of vets working to help the problems associated with PTSD.  With US West's primary funding and some additional foundation support, we were able to pitch PBS on a documentary about the project and pay for the trip as part of the filming.

Bill Koutrouba was a real sparkplug on the project, encouraging others to participate and to talk about their experiences.  The documentary, “Two Decades and a Wake-Up”, won an Emmy Award for us and, to this day, is still shown on many PBS stations on Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day.  There are even some VHS copies floating around on Amazon.

This was a ground breaking endeavor twenty years ago.  It broke down many of the barriers between Vietnam and the US.  It helped considerably to open a viable tourist industry in that country. And it started PTSD groups all over the US, who then took our lead and made trips back to the battlefields.

For me, it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime projects where all the stars are aligned and the timing is just right to make the world take notice.  All three major television networks sent crews on the trip and each ran a 5-part series on its evening news program after.  The New York Times wrote a full-page story in the Sunday paper and several follow-ups.  The Associated Press went along too and hundreds of papers around the world carried the reports.

The talk shows joined in, as well. Charlie Rose did an amazing interview with Bill Koutrouba and others.  But it was Nightline, in its heyday, that devoted a full hour to the trip, interviewing several of the vets, including Bill, and their therapists. As I was leaving the studio in Seattle after the broadcast, someone called me back in for a phone call. At first, I was afraid we had ruffled some feathers, but as it turned out the voice on the other end said, “Dan, this is Ted Koppel.” He thanked me for prompting the story and for getting everyone in the right place and then said, ”We have not had a story with this significant an impact since the hostage crisis.”  I really didn’t need the car to get home. I could have flown on my own.

We all went back to DC for congratulations from the President on down.  We even encountered John McCain in the Capitol and had a wonderfully engaging discussion in the hallways of Congress.  Our final stop was the Vietnam Memorial, which none of the vets had seen.  I walked over from our hotel in a driving rainstorm with Bill Koutrouba.  He and I had become friends through this process and, with my parents still living in DC, I had my dad join us the night before for dinner with the group. He and Bill made a heartfelt connection over a big plate of Italian food that made me especially proud.

When we reached the site of the memorial, I could feel Bill’s heart beating faster and see the rush of old feelings building up in his head. It was a very emotional moment when he found some of the names of those he knew and were with when they died. He was in another place while we were in front of the wall but, on the walk back, he turned to me and said, ”War is such a waste of good people…especially this one”.

I still tell this story to my PR classes at UW and, when I was honored with the Public Relations Society of America’s Lifetime Achievement Award, I was asked about my favorite project.  I have been fortunate to have a career with many favorites but none with a greater or more rewarding impact than this one.  My pride in country always swells on Veterans Day. Now, Bill Koutrouba will have a place in my heart forever because of all that he gave. Sleep well, Bill.