{"id":287,"date":"2023-08-18T22:11:53","date_gmt":"2023-08-18T22:11:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jamesdbrewerwriter.com\/?page_id=287"},"modified":"2023-08-18T22:11:56","modified_gmt":"2023-08-18T22:11:56","slug":"indomitable-spirit-part-7","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/jamesdbrewerwriter.com\/?page_id=287","title":{"rendered":"INDOMITABLE SPIRIT (Part 7)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Decade Six \u2013 A New Century in Virginia<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From Theory to Practice<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA man should know the source of the water he drinks<\/em>.\u201d \u2013 Ip Man<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A New Direction, An Opportunity and Another Goodbye<\/em><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

In 2001 I received a series of blows to my spirit. If you are fortunate to live long enough, you eventually reach a point in your life when those around you that you love die start to die. In June of that year my brother-in-law, Billy Owens, died after a long struggle with Parkinson\u2019s Disease. My dear sister, Nelda, had been his caretaker and soulmate for his last years, and it hurt me to see her in pain. Then, just two weeks later in July, my brother took his own life in the face of the suffering and pain he anticipated from a lung illness he had battled off and on through his life. He was 66 years old. I was devastated when my sister called me with the news. He had always been particularly proud of my military service, keeping track of my progress from Basic Training until retirement from active duty. Throughout my career, when I would attend Airborne School or Air Assault School, or get a promotion, or experience some other positive event such as my assignment to West Point, he would always say, \u201cThey\u2019re groomin\u2019 you, Jim Bodie. They\u2019re groomin\u2019 you.\u201d His confidence in me inspired me to want to succeed and instilled in me a \u2018never give up\u2019 mentality that is an element of indomitable spirit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had seen him just a week before and he had given no hint or clue of his intentions. Clearly, he had planned this for weeks and months, having gotten all his papers and financial affairs in order for his wife and the rest of the family. For years I tried to figure out what signals I missed. But there seemed to be none. I had been visiting mother in Tennessee the week before he died, and he was present and fully a part of the usual discussion and visitation, as he lived in the same town. As I got up to leave, I recall how he opened his arms as if to be certain not to miss a good-bye hug. I recall that he held that embrace longer than usual that afternoon, saying, \u201cTake care of your family, Jim Bodie.\u201d He patted me on the back, I said good-bye to mother, and I left for Kentucky. A few days later, on Friday, his wife saw him sitting outside alone in the swing for an extended time. When he finally came back into the house, she asked him what he\u2019d been doing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u201cHaving a talk with the Man upstairs,\u201d he said with a smile. \u201cAnd I think we got things worked out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Two days later, on Sunday, July 1st<\/sup>, around 7:00 a.m., he would take his own life in a location that would endanger no one else, yet one where he would be immediately discovered. He was found holding a note to call my sister. While I haven\u2019t quite forgiven him for leaving us the way he did, I haven\u2019t stopped loving him either. A couple of years before he died, he sent me a hat for my birthday, accompanied by a note which I maintain to this day. Occasionally, I re-read it, and the words strengthen me in my search for indomitable spirit.      <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“For those chilly mornings when all is quiet around you as you search for those relics which you desire. Know that when you wear it, that your older brother is with you in spirit though you may be totally alone. Memories of times past and time spent together brings smiles and fond recollections to the Old Man who happens to be your Older Brother.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love ya,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bubba<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One month after my brother, in August, my mother-in-law died after an extended illness, leaving my wife and I in sadness and pain. Then, just a few weeks later, the entire country witnessed the devastating events of 9\/11 unfold. That was a tough summer, and we all had to dig deep in our faith and perseverance amid that suffering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 I had retired from active duty in the mid-1990\u2019s, and I worked as a contractor for several years before returning as a civilian to federal service as a training and doctrine writer. I wrote US Army reconnaissance and surveillance doctrine, and after the terrorist attacks of 9\/11, I helped to train and evaluate the emerging STRYKER brigades that saw heavy service during operations in both Iran and Afghanistan. In 2005 I shifted to work as the Chief of Task Analysis (Training) for the Army\u2019s Future Combat System (FCS). I was satisfied in my job, happy in my church, enjoying playing music, writing, and learning and growing in my Taekwondo training in Kentucky. Then, with little notice we learned that our jobs in Kentucky would be moved to Fort Bliss, TX. The Army gave me about six months’ notice, thanked me for my civilian service to the US Government at the location in the Bluegrass State, and even offered to pay my move to the desert southwest should I desire to continue my job. While my wife and I prayerfully and carefully considered their offer, we ultimately decided that would be much too far away from our children and grandchildren. Also, my gut told me that the FCS program might not continue to evolve and be funded. I feared we might move to El Paso, live there a year, and then have the program cancelled. Then we would be 27 hours from our family, without a job, and no way back. Since I was only 56, I wanted and needed to continue federal service to establish a more robust retirement. Besides, I felt like I still had much to contribute to Army training and readiness. So, I reached out and I found another job in Army training at Fort Eustis, Virginia near Williamsburg in the Tidewater area. From a familial standpoint, my daughters were not happy with our decision to move to Virginia. While they listened patiently to my explanation of the professional and financial reasons why I needed to move and not turn my back on a full Federal retirement, it was clear they felt like we were deserting them. Despite my assurances that we would return to visit as often as possible, and my offer of an open door should they come to visit us in Virginia, our departure took its toll on the family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Saying good-bye to Master Sheroan and my friends and fellow taekwondo warriors was difficult as well. <\/p>\n\n\n

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Master Bobby Sheroan is promoted to 8th degree<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I had left gallons of sweat and a truckload of effort on the mats in Master Sheroan’s training hall. And now I was to leave an instructor I respected and the friends I had made along the way. Before the El Paso debacle, my wife and I had fully expected to ultimately retire from federal service and live the rest of our lives in Kentucky. I would finally be stabilized and able to train and advance within one martial arts system for longer than a few years. I had always been envious of people who trained for 20 or 30 years in a system, learning all the intricacies of that style, and advancing within the rank and leadership structure of the program. Instead, I had been a martial arts nomad my entire life, and now it was happening all over again. My quest for indomitable spirit was again tested, both by my decision to move and continue my career away from my family, and by leaving the training and learning environment of my taekwondo colleagues and friends. I tried to keep up a positive attitude toward the transition as I hugged and kissed the family in preparation to leave. I smiled and talked of my future return as I completed my last taekwondo class and shook hands with Master Sheroan. I had a job and a chance to continue my career. I had the skills to do the job. I had much to be thankful for in my life. Yet my spirit was conflicted, and I could feel myself slipping into a melancholy state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a cold winter day in February 2007, we sadly bid farewell to friends and family and accepted the Virginia assignment much like we had any 2-5 year \u201ctour\u201d when on active duty. We left Kentucky fully prepared to serve well in Virginia, but our plan had been all along to transfer back to Kentucky, live close to the family, ultimately retire there, and most likely die there. But as we drove along I-64 that cold winter day and crossed into West Virginia, en route to the new job in Virginia, the snow started falling. And something told me I would not be back the way I believed I would. \u201cTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood,\u201d Robert Frost wrote, and he \u201ctook the one less traveled by.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet knowing how way leads on to way<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I doubted if I should ever come back (Frost)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

6.1   A Challenge to the Body<\/em><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By late February of 2007 we were Virginians. We picked out a house we wanted built in a new subdivision in Gloucester, VA, and settled into a campground in Williamsburg for the six-month construction period. I began my new job working for a combat-tested Vietnam veteran named Ray Whitney. Ray, who had never met me before I arrived in Virginia, had hired me based upon my reputation, so I felt a particularly heavy responsibility to prove him right and do a stellar job. My new work had me traveling a great deal, and having to leave my wife alone in Virginia undermined my attempt to maintain a positive attitude. That, coupled with the sadness of leaving family and friends, continued to take its toll on my spirit. I struggled to keep up a good front for my wife, but I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into depression. As early April rolled in, I had little energy, felt weak, had scarce motivation, experienced headaches, some fever (I suspected a 24-hr bug) and I just felt generally rotten. I didn\u2019t feel like training anywhere. I didn\u2019t feel very much like enjoying my music. I did not want to go out and do much of anything after I got off work, and my wife sensed I was struggling. I dug up the energy to visit a couple of martial arts schools in Williamsburg, one being a traditional Shotokan school, but there was no point in aligning with a self-defense school that I had neither time nor opportunity to attend once I got moved into my new home in Gloucester, almost an hour away. Also, I wanted to make sure I chose the right training for this point in my life. I wanted to survey all the options. I did not want to commit too early to something that might not be lasting. But the truth is, I did not have the physical strength to train then anyway. And it was not until about six months later that I found out why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Late in the summer or early fall I established a new primary care physician and went in for a routine physical. He called me at work one day and went over the results of my blood work. My blood titer results, he explained, indicated that sometime within the last six months I had suffered from Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. As we spoke on the phone it all began to make sense. I had received a tick bite in late March\/early April \u2013 a bite in a spot I could not see or actually reach. My wife had been traveling back and forth to Kentucky during the birth of twin granddaughters, so I was on my own or traveling a great deal. When I did find the tick, I removed it, but I would not have seen the reddening circle, or the rash, or the signs of complications of the tick bite. Many of the symptoms (rash, fever, muscle weakness, headache, listlessness, etc.,) matched exactly what I had experienced in those first few months in Virginia. My spirit had suffered not just due to my move, but for physiological reasons. Maybe if I had not been so stubborn about going to the doctor, I might have short-circuited the sense of depression and melancholy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n