I got the email Wednesday afternoon. I'm so grateful! Ecstatic! Elated, even!
But of course, there's a flip side. It's the essay about my dad as a Medevac pilot in Vietnam...and I use his name. And I quote a letter he wrote detailing some of his most unfathomable experiences. It's personal. It's hard material.
And he has no idea that I've written it. He knows that I wrote the 9/11 piece, but has no idea that I spent a good eight months on this one, researching Medevac history, figuring out what it takes to fly a helicopter (both arms and legs. Who knew? They're incredibly complex. And temperamental. I'm still awed when I think about them and my dad flying them at 19...in a war zone. While getting shot at. I now have the bullet that grazed his ear.), realizing how highly lauded they were/ are by those that worked with Medevac pilots and, of course, those whose lives were saved.
I need to call him and ask permission. I reread it last night and cringed as I realized how much is in there. It's not even just the excerpts of the letter--it includes names of men he worked with and opens with two pages--maybe 400 words or so--of him growing up and learning to read the water and weather. I name the town, provide narrative detail. All of it. Even if I change his name, anyone who knows him will know it's him.
The whole essay puts him in a favorable light, if not on a pedestal. But it's still one of the worst years of his life. And people react in really surprising ways when they're written about; even the most benign narrative detail can be offensive. I'm terrified to call him, but I have to.
I won't retract it. I'll change his name. That's it.
Think good thoughts, please.
In other news, I've been working nonstop on my syllabus, course objectives, course website, etc. I'm wicked excited. Here are some shots from the last 24 hours:
Okay. Call dad. Then back to work.
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