'There were too many untold war stories behind those eyes'

How the fellow known as 'Miserable' earned his name n July 26, Penelope wrote a blog comment on my column about my Confirmation adventure as a 12-year-old. She said: "There's usually no point to these stories. I don't understand how this column continues to be published."

For some reason her lament reminded me of an 85-year-old man I met in the late 1950s who has long since gone to heaven. His nickname was "Miserable." He was a veteran of World War I and suffered from what they called battle fatigue in those days; now it is known as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

How he got the nickname "Miserable" after the war is best described by his standard reply to, "How are you?"

For example: The scene in which I first witnessed his standard reaction to being addressed was at a crowded, old-fashioned butcher shop where they cut and wrapped the meat especially for each customer.

There were 15 or 20 people waiting to be served. Our man was impatiently waiting his turn and in walked a perky little, impeccably dressed, very near-sighted, 70-year-old local socialite who was always a most polite and solicitous person with everyone.

She squinted at our man and said, "Good morning, Wilfred, my dear. How are you, honey?"

"Miserable. Wish I was dead," came the reply in a gruff and brutally honest tone of voice.

"I do too, dear, I do too," she bubbled, seemingly unaware of her original question.

I got to know Miserable better as time passed. There truly was a reason his eyes had a persistently vacant stare; he apparently wasn't the same man who had gone to war in Europe many years before, because his heart seemed empty and forlorn.

There were too many untold war stories behind those eyes. There was also a story of a pretty French miss who he had to leave behind. The scars from that were probably more painful than those left by bullets.

As time passed, I would occasionally see him in the office and, on one occasion, he presented with a rash on his chest.

It turned out to be caused by a crust of dirt. I excused myself, stepped into the supply room and got him a new bar of Dial, trimmed off the label and told him it was medicinal and that it would cure the rash.

"How you expect me to use this?" he asked while examining the bar of soap.

"Just sit in the tub and soap yourself until the bar is half used and then do it again tomorrow." I explained.

"How's that supposta help?" he asked.

I asked, "What do you mean?"

Says he, "I'm gonna look pretty silly."

"Why?" I queried.

"My bathtub ain't never been hooked up," he smiled wryly.

He lived alone in the little country home his late parents had built in the 1800s.

The house had no running water at all until the 1940s, so after that, he performed all his ablutions in the kitchen sink.

You know, on occasion you will say something that is redundant literally on its own face because the facts speak for themselves.

And this whole scenario reminds me of the story of the guy who is getting into an elevator on a hot day. He unthinkingly blurted out: "Whew! Somebody's deodorant isn't working."

A guy in the back says, "Couldn't be me. I ain't got none on."

When Miserable walked down the street, it was reminiscent of a car commercial on TV in which a car speeds down the road and the eddying wind behind the car knocks over trees, signposts and everything else in its wake.

I'll let you take it from there; goodness knows I wouldn't want B.O. to be the point of this little essay. It was interesting to find that for a couple of years, I had been writing this column with never a point to what I said, but I'll be danged if I'll let smelly armpits be the motivation for a whole dissertation this time.

Leaving that sweet mademoiselle and coming back to the states with a broken heart is the sad but real point of the story.

If nothing else, losing her made a certain young soldier so miserable it became who he was forevermore.

Bob Bader is a chiropractor and a writer and can be reached at drrobertbader@sbcglobal.net or bobbyo@softcom.net.

Reader Feedback

got sumpin2say wrote on Aug 11, 2007 10:40 AM:

" To the person who sees no point to Bob's columns: We oldsters truly enjoy his humorous stories of growing up and going through puberty in simpler times. Reading Bob's comments starts our day with a laugh and some similar fond memories. "

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greatcollumn wrote on Aug 9, 2007 2:03 PM:

" I am currently an active duty soldier, and I know how stressful things can be. During WWII things were far different, and there was less help. The man sounds like an interesting fellow, someone whom I would like to meet. This story is probably far more common than one thinks. Veterans need more respect, maybe it would help. Thanks for the writing. "

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