Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War

It is not every day you see a three-year-old walking around the park or grocery store clutching the soggy ear of a plush Winnie the Pooh that has been sucked on in one hand, and a photograph of a disabled veteran in the other. Nonetheless, if you were in my neighborhood that is exactly what you would have seen. My mother had no idea that the day she allowed me to open the junk mail as a three-year-old, that it would be the catalyst event that would later guide my educational direction. One piece of mail that I opened was from a wounded warrior organization, igniting a fire deep within me. I had many questions surrounding the complex and sensitive issues regarding the effects of war and demanded explanations for all of them. This was the passionate beginning of my interest in the principles that guide our great nation, and my desire to help others.
Most children ask their parents to read them bedtime stories, instead I asked for my mom and dad to read the flyers that came in the mail from all of the various non-profit organizations. I had a collection of pictures and pamphlets that I would pull out from under my bed at bedtime, and those were the stories my mom would read to me until I could recite them all by heart.

I was always on the lookout for opportunities to raise money and awareness to help these causes. No matter where I was I would have one eye scouring the terrain for lost coins. No penny was safe if I were around. I even remember one time climbing into a wishing well of a local fountain to fish out the coins and donating the ones I could gather. I begged Santa. I cornered the Easter Bunny. I bargained with the Tooth Fairy. Once a week, I would tape all the coins to a piece of paper along with a homemade note and would mail them to one of the charitable organizations that were closest to my heart. Advocacy came naturally to me and my passion and interest grew, as I