Raising A Soul Surfer by Rick Bundschuh, Cheri Hamilton
Authors: Rick Bundschuh, Cheri Hamilton
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his ship’s guns. He tried to dismiss them as collateral damage, like the guy on the radio did, but it haunted him.
Still, he had an enviably safe job, miles offshore, far from the brutal field conditions and persistent violence and horrors of war. Sometimes he got to head into the nearby base via helicopter, on a “milk run,” ferrying bags of mail to and from the ship. But overall, his war experience was cushy. The things that happened in the wet jungles couldn’t touch him.
Tom’s nonchalant sense of security came to an end during a standard milk run over a dense rain forest that was supposed to be enemy-free.
The Vietnam War had come for Tom.
To this day, Tom won’t talk about it. So I let what happened remain in obscurity. Maybe someday he’ll be ready to talk about it, or maybe not. I can respect that he doesn’t want to ever revisit his experience.
But I do believe that the shock of “this can’t be happening to me!” that Tom got that day in Vietnam was a kind of preparation, or maybe a dress rehearsal, for the similar dismantling of our own nest of casual security when we first heard that our daughter, Bethany, had been viciously mauled by the second most dangerous shark in the world.
Vietnam could be blamed on politicians and revolutionaries. In the case of Bethany, when Tom wrestled with the very real possibility of losing his daughter forever, there seemed to be only one person to blame . . . God.
CHAPTER
4
Destiny
My times are in your hands
.
PSALM 31:15,
NIV
My dad was born in Denver, Colorado
, and he lived his life with a high level of activity and adventure. I can get dizzy watching the home movies my mother took in the early years of their marriage.
In high school, he was a super athlete and achieved a high level of skill in most sports. His abilities are showcased in back-to-back clips of skiing, gymnastics, tennis, high dive and swimming laps—including the breaststroke, butterfly and crawl. He is shown horseback riding, ice-skating, cross-country skiing, and more.
After high school, he joined the Marines and was recruited to play on their football team. His team won the annual United States Football Championship two years in a row at Quantico, Virginia, against the Army! After his military commitment, he was able to go to college on the G.I. bill, in Denver. He studied and worked hard to make it on his own, while barely surviving on peanut butter and crackers.
In his last year of college, my parents met on a double date, although they were not paired with each other. My mom was attracted right off and nabbed a date with him soon after, followed by marriage and the birth of my older sister, Debbie. After completing his four-year degree at Denver University, my dad landed his first teaching job in a nearby mountain town called Glenwood Springs. Dad and Mom packed up my one-year-old sister, Debbie, and Grandma Julia, and moved to their new home.
Glenwood Springs was not only my birthplace, but also the place where I first fell in love with water. In Glenwood, hot volcanic mineral springs bubble up to fill what was the largest swimming pool in the world back in 1953. This premier pool was the first training ground for two future surfer girls. The pool stays open all year round, even in the dead of winter when you can immerse your tired muscles and achy bones into these naturally hot, healing waters under glittering snowfall or a starry summer night.
My dad took his first position teaching history and coaching the wrestling team. This meant traveling on weekends to various high school competitions. Late one night, while my dad was away at a competition, my mom went into labor. Without a car, she left my sister asleep in the crib while she, accompanied by Grandma Julia, carefully walked over icy sidewalks in the falling snow to the small hospital clinic. It was 4:00 A.M . on Valentine’s Day, 1953, when I came into the world, ready to fall in love with the water and begin
Still, he had an enviably safe job, miles offshore, far from the brutal field conditions and persistent violence and horrors of war. Sometimes he got to head into the nearby base via helicopter, on a “milk run,” ferrying bags of mail to and from the ship. But overall, his war experience was cushy. The things that happened in the wet jungles couldn’t touch him.
Tom’s nonchalant sense of security came to an end during a standard milk run over a dense rain forest that was supposed to be enemy-free.
The Vietnam War had come for Tom.
To this day, Tom won’t talk about it. So I let what happened remain in obscurity. Maybe someday he’ll be ready to talk about it, or maybe not. I can respect that he doesn’t want to ever revisit his experience.
But I do believe that the shock of “this can’t be happening to me!” that Tom got that day in Vietnam was a kind of preparation, or maybe a dress rehearsal, for the similar dismantling of our own nest of casual security when we first heard that our daughter, Bethany, had been viciously mauled by the second most dangerous shark in the world.
Vietnam could be blamed on politicians and revolutionaries. In the case of Bethany, when Tom wrestled with the very real possibility of losing his daughter forever, there seemed to be only one person to blame . . . God.
CHAPTER
4
Destiny
My times are in your hands
.
PSALM 31:15,
NIV
My dad was born in Denver, Colorado
, and he lived his life with a high level of activity and adventure. I can get dizzy watching the home movies my mother took in the early years of their marriage.
In high school, he was a super athlete and achieved a high level of skill in most sports. His abilities are showcased in back-to-back clips of skiing, gymnastics, tennis, high dive and swimming laps—including the breaststroke, butterfly and crawl. He is shown horseback riding, ice-skating, cross-country skiing, and more.
After high school, he joined the Marines and was recruited to play on their football team. His team won the annual United States Football Championship two years in a row at Quantico, Virginia, against the Army! After his military commitment, he was able to go to college on the G.I. bill, in Denver. He studied and worked hard to make it on his own, while barely surviving on peanut butter and crackers.
In his last year of college, my parents met on a double date, although they were not paired with each other. My mom was attracted right off and nabbed a date with him soon after, followed by marriage and the birth of my older sister, Debbie. After completing his four-year degree at Denver University, my dad landed his first teaching job in a nearby mountain town called Glenwood Springs. Dad and Mom packed up my one-year-old sister, Debbie, and Grandma Julia, and moved to their new home.
Glenwood Springs was not only my birthplace, but also the place where I first fell in love with water. In Glenwood, hot volcanic mineral springs bubble up to fill what was the largest swimming pool in the world back in 1953. This premier pool was the first training ground for two future surfer girls. The pool stays open all year round, even in the dead of winter when you can immerse your tired muscles and achy bones into these naturally hot, healing waters under glittering snowfall or a starry summer night.
My dad took his first position teaching history and coaching the wrestling team. This meant traveling on weekends to various high school competitions. Late one night, while my dad was away at a competition, my mom went into labor. Without a car, she left my sister asleep in the crib while she, accompanied by Grandma Julia, carefully walked over icy sidewalks in the falling snow to the small hospital clinic. It was 4:00 A.M . on Valentine’s Day, 1953, when I came into the world, ready to fall in love with the water and begin
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