Vantage Point (on-line) Magazine

Mr. Venegas Draws on Life Experience

Bill Pike — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 00:18:00 GMT

It was the day before Labor Day and unseasonably warm when I pulled up in front of Serafin Venega’s house located near downtown Los Angeles. A member of the greatest generation, Venegas is a WWII veteran with an uncanny eye for capturing faces in line drawings. It wasn’t until well after he joined the Army, that he discovered his talent with a pencil charcoal and pastels. The illustrations in this article are all his.

I opened the metal gate at the foot of the stairs that led up to a neat little house. Venegas was at the top step of several brick and mortar stairs sweeping up the fallen leaves from an arbor vine that framed the entry way. He continued to sweep as we exchanged pleasantries.

“Did you have any problems finding me? I’m just going to finish my yard work if you don’t mind.” he said with a melodic Spanish accent.

“No,” I found myself fabricating in my reply, finding your house was pretty easy.” Actually, it was a good thing that I had an accurate map. “Please…go right ahead,” I replied.

Venegas used a small broom to collect leaves and twigs toward the center of each step, then began sweeping the clippings into a dustpan set on the stair below leaving each brick landing clean. When the chore on each step was completed, he invited me in.

As I entered the house, I noticed framed drawings in nearly every room. There must have been nearly one hundred throughout the house. The portrait below immediatly caught my eye. Most of the art I saw that day was in sepia tones. This one used pastels.

We decided to sit at the wood table in a cozy, dining area just off the kitchen. The hazy afternoon sun shone in a window and warmed the area as Venegas reminisced about how he, an American by birth, left the town of Corona in Southern California to go live in Mexico when he was about seven years old.

He spent most of his subsequent growing years in a very remote Mexican village. It was isolated and too small to support a school. Without any education, Venegas did not know how to read or write. His primary language was Spanish. He had very little exposure to spoken English because he left shortly after he started elementary school in Corona.

“In the 1930s my father got tired of working in the orange groves. His income was very low because of the depression,” Venegas explains. “He also worried that he would lose touch with his family and wanted all of us to be with them. So he decided that it was time for my mother, my older brother, my two sisters and I, to move back to his village in Mexico. Somehow we all packed into an old Model T Ford and made the drive through Arizona to El Paso, Texas, and then south.”

The life style for the family living in Mexico was one of bare subsistence farming. “I wore heavily patched trousers and hand-me-downs. Most of the time I had no shoes. My mother cooked over an open wood fire on the ground. She toasted tortillas on a small grill propped up by tin cans. It was very primitive. What we were able to plant and harvest is what we subsisted on; beans, onions, garlic, tomatoes, corn, and so on.”

“From time to time, I would ask my father, when are we going back to Corona? It seemed to me, even as a child, that our time there had been better before coming to Mexico. At least I had regular shoes to wear. But my father would reply, ‘We are never going back to California. Never.’ His words made me think more seriously about the notion of going back to the place of my childhood; a happier place. “In Mexico we were so poor. I had no money and no real plan on how I would get back, just a desire based on the fond memories of my early childhood.”

“To avoid my father’s anger, I kept the idea of leaving to return to California to myself. I loved my mother and I knew it would hurt her very much if I left her…still, as I got older, the need to move on was growing inside my heart.”

Venegas also considered going to Mexico City where his older sister was living. But when he casually raised the idea, his father strongly discouraged him by saying it was a very dangerous place to go. That stopped any thought of going.

His “get away” savings account began at age fourteen, although when he started it, he had no plan to leave. It just seemed like a good idea. Under the fence in the back corral, he had hollowed out a secret place to stash his money. The cash he collected would be inserted into a well-hidden earthen jar.

He figured out creative ways to feed money into his bank. For example, Venegas would load fire wood onto the backs of two donkeys. Then he walked the two-hour trip each way into the nearby town to sell his load. He asked his mother for any extra vegetables or candy as additional ways to raise cash. He took silver Spanish coins that had been found. He even took old, broken clocks (without his mother’s permission) and attempted to sell them in town with little success.

When his brother-in-law came to the farm take the annual harvest into town to sell and raise cash for the family, he had an idea.

“Encarnation, I asked him, may I take a load of corn that I will harvest to sell along with the crops you will be selling? I won’t tell anybody what we are doing. He agreed and I was able to add a small incremental amount to my savings.”

Over the years, Venegas had managed to save 50 pesos along with some spare change.

The Train Comes Through Sacatecas

The name "Sacatecas" rolled off of Venegas' tongue in such a comfortable way. “I had never been in Sacatecas City in my life. But I knew that the train came through this town and I could ride it to Juarez, Mexico. It would get me close to the border. I found out that the fare to take the train was exactly 50 pesos. Using up most of my life savings, I purchased a one-way ticket to Juarez. I figured that the extra change left in my pocket would permit me to get something to eat.”

Wearing hardscrabble clothes an old hat and showing a farmer’s tan, Venegas hardly resembled an American citizen but, when the Border Agents checked, his birth certificate and other papers were in order. They let him in to the country.

“It was easy to cross the border. When they asked where I was born, I answered immediately. I knew that I was born in Corona. But later, I marveled at how I must have looked and sounded. As to why they let me into the country without any delay or conducting a further investigation, to this day, I am simply amazed.”

Out in the West Texas Town of El Paso

Walking the streets and parks of El Paso, the young Venegas was reminded of how famished he was. He noticed in a city park how Americans ate part of a hot dog and then discard the remaining dog and bun. He was sorely tempted to pick up the discarded food but decided it might draw attention so he painfully passed on the opportunity.

It was early during 1942, after Pearl Harbor when he learned (speaking to kindly strangers who spoke Spanish) that he needed to register for the war in order to get a job. So he found the government office and promptly registered. He never gave the process much thought. After several odd jobs, he landed a job as a dishwasher at the El Paso Hilton Hotel. This employment was a Godsend. He received more money than he had managed to save over all his previous years in Mexico. He also had new-found access to incredibly large portions of food.

“The elevator doors would open and out rolled these huge trays loaded with exciting things to eat. Pickles…Oh, how I fell in love with the taste of dill pickles. Fresh sliced bread was another favorite of mine. I could eat a whole loaf of bread at one sitting.”

After a short but profitable stint in El Paso and an opportunity to fill his stomach, Venegas was ready to initiate the next stage of his journey home.

“I had earned fifteen bucks. So I went to the bus station to see how much it would cost me to get a bus ride to Corona. ‘Fifteen bucks, buddy,’ the ticket man said. So I reached into my pocket, plunked my cash in the window and bought a ticket.”

While Corona was initially his destination, Venegas realized that there were very few jobs during the war years and the small agricultural town was not a practical place for him to live. He needed a cheap place to bunk, so he traveled to San Pedro, southwest of Los Angeles, to stay with his sister until he could earn more money.

“I was only there for about four months,” Venegas explains. “Then I was inducted into the U.S. Army at Fort Macarthur.”

Above is a self portrait. After induction, he was sent to a language school near Riverside, California to be trained for four months learn English. The training, however, was limited to specific Army terminology he would need.

“I learned new words such as ‘chow,’ ‘rifle, ‘mess hall’ ‘right flank, left flank, ‘about face’ and such. I was not taught and so I still couldn’t make any English phrases. Regardless, I was highly motivated because I did not want to be sent back to Mexico. I genuinely wanted to be in the Army.”

Because he was very intent on remaining in the U.S, he became a very good soldier. He perfected his ability to call out cadence and marching commands.

“They often would put me in front of our squad to have me call out directions for how to drill on marching.”

Venegas was shipped back for intensive physical training in Camp Cook in South Carolina where he excelled. Then he moved closer to the war front.

“I was sent to Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. That is where I met Betty Grable.”

Venegas relates how he saw her at a USO show and she came backstage where he was hanging out with a group of fellow soldiers.

“We caught sight of each other. She took a look at me and said, ‘Dear boy, My dear boy.’ And then she patted me on my cheek. Wow!”

“From Hawaii, our unit was shipped to the New Hebrides off the coast of Australia.”

Editor’s note: New Hebrides was the colonial name for an island group in the South Pacific that now forms the independent nation of Vanuatu.

To reach his Pacific Theater combat destination, he was sent by ship to a location just off the coast of Okinawa. Once there, he was directed, along with other soldiers from his company to board a landing craft. He joined hundreds of soldiers who were also climbing down the rope netting and into the craft. His true combat experience took place fighting the Japanese in Okinawa.

“We landed on Brown Beach. I was told, ‘Stay here on the beach and watch our duffle bags and equipment until we come back in a day or so.’ I could see the Japanese planes shooting machine guns and strafing our ship. Some planes came and strafed the beach so I had to duck for cover. Then I had to move all the equipment and duffle bags so that the tide would not wash them out to sea.”

Like so many World War II veterans, Venegas does not care to talk in detail about his war experience. “The way we fought and killed is not something I like to think about. It was awful, but we did what we had to do…I feel bad about those who lost their lives on both sides. I hate war.”

An Unanticipated Artistic Ability Emerges

Throughout his army experience, lack of English kept Venegas isolated from others. Even though he was in the company of many fellow soldiers, life was a lonely existence.

In a letter from his father (delayed for several months before delivery to his unit), he learned that his mother was possibly dying. He wanted to cry and tell someone about his heartache, but he had no one to confide in. Worries about the fate of his mother added to his loneliness.

“I could not get together with the other soldiers and joke around and drink beer with them. I missed my family. And so I spent a lot of time with nothing to do. One day, I was just sitting on my bunk, before I was sent to Okinawa, and I took out a picture of my girlfriend. For some reason, I decided to use my pencil to try my skill at drawing a larger version of the wallet-sized photo. Of over a thousand really bad starts, I kept one or two that were bad, but at least I could sort of recognize her face. The others I threw away.”

Other soldiers began noticing Venegas’ budding artistic ability and asked him to draw pencil renderings of their sweethearts so that they could send the drawings home.

“’Are you an artist?’ they would ask me. No, I’m just learning how to draw, I would reply.’ Well, just go ahead. When I started I was lousy. But they seemed to like what I tried to do. Girlfriends wrote back to say that my drawings were good. I think they were just being supportive of the war effort to be honest.”

Venegas was subsequently assigned as part of the occupation forces in Japan. In Japan, he learned, to his immense relief, that his mother’s health was much better. In 1945, he returned back to the U.S., his homeland, through San Francisco.

Upon his return to civilian life, Mr. Venegas returned to Mexico but decided, based on his Army experience, that he did not fit the lifestyle on a farm and could no longer live in poverty. He took a bus to Long Beach to stay with a sister.

Subsequently, he began a long career serving meals at La Fonda, a very well known Mexican restaurant located in Los Angeles. He purchased a house. When he retired, he picked up his pencils and began to draw again. He continues to draw and exibit his art at various venues throughout Los Angeles.

Meet VA Researcher, Dr. Sydney Finegold

Bill Pike — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 00:30:00 GMT

Vantage Point had the pleasure of visiting with Dr. Sidney Finegold who was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement award for his exhaustive work in the field of research at the Veterans Administration in West Los Angeles. A respected researcher, whose reputation is global in scale, he has the somewhat dubious distinction of having three recently discovered "bugs" named after him:

Finegoldia magna, named by a group in the UK, is an anaerobic gram-positive coccus found as normal flora in different parts of the body, especially the oral cavity and the skin
The Alistipes finegoldi, coined by a Finnish group, is a gram-negative bacillus, is found normally in the bowel, and is involved in infections related to the large bowel and appendix.
The Bacteroides finegoldii, named by a Japanese group, is also a gram-negative bacillus found normally in the intestines and occasionally in infections related to the intestines.

Vantage Point: What spark caused you to become interested in the field of research?

Finegold: In college, I was always interested in the various projects we had to do for research classes. I loved doing them. But, it wasn’t until I started medical school that I really got involved in research.

VP: If you were to define the term “research” to someone outside your field, how would you explain the work you and your staff do?

Finegold: Research is like walking into a totally dark room. The room is filled with furniture and various obstacles. As a researcher, you are blindly feeling your way around by touch and trying to get some idea of how many objects there are in the room and the role each object plays. If you are very lucky, the light eventually turns on and you confirm your suspicions as well as questioning other objects that you missed. You say to yourself, ‘Hey! I should have recognized that.’

VP: What do you find the most gratifying in your research?

Finegold: I enjoy solving a puzzle. It could be large or small. Over the years, I find myself wondering and worrying about some issue. It can keep me intrigued and tantalized. …and then one day a piece that I had not noticed comes into play and it all comes together. I exclaim, ‘Wow, my God, this is absolutely great!’ Then I find that all that effort and time – including walking into blind alleys - was worthwhile.

VP: What is it about working at the VA that interest you?

Finegold: The Veterans are wonderful people to work with. They really appreciate the effort we are making on their behalf. They recognize the quality of care we try to deliver. It is wonderful and rewarding for me to work with patients like that.

VP: You were recently given the Lifetime Achievement award. Was it a fitting tribute to the work you have done and your many accomplishments?

Finegold: Well it was an honor and I am humbled by it. I keep thinking that they are trying to tell me something, like it is time to retire (laughs).

VP: Does the award signify that you are preeminent in the field of research at the West Los Angeles VA?

Finegold: I don’t mean to discount such an honor, but no. I looked around the room during Research Week and saw many truly dedicated researchers who, today, are doing fabulous work. The VA has so many talented researchers. The significance to me is that the award carries recognition to the fantastic staff in the lab who work shoulder to shoulder with me on the research projects we do.

VP: There are those who express the opinion that the programs and research conducted VA are limited by its government bureaucracy. How do you answer them?

Finegold: I would say they are poorly informed. Certainly there are challenges. As with any medical institution, we must comply with a number of regulations designed to protect the well-being of our patients. Indeed, we are a government institution and we always need to find ways to improve the way things are done. The VA system is a major national heritage; a treasure. I am proud to work here.

VP: What current challenges are you facing when it comes to research?

Finegold: The biggest challenge is that I can’t convince people that the role of bacteria is important in finding the cause of autism. We have had a few papers published but we have not attracted enough funding to do the kind of research that is needed.

VP: Do others share your frustration concerning lack of funding for autism research?

Finegold: Absolutely, funding is an issue for almost all researchers. A really nice man from the Midwest has an autistic son. Every year, he sends us $10,000.00 for our autism research. To him it’s like one million dollars. He works very hard to dig up that amount of money every year and send it to us. It’s truly amazing.

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Many thanks to the Office of Public Affairs at the West Los Angeles VA and in particular, Wileen Hernandez for allowing us to publish this article.

The Back Story on Kyle Hausmann-Stokes’ Film Career to Date

Bill Pike — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 20:29:00 GMT

The future is unknown and impossible to predict. Do we humans act in accordance with our own ideas, our moral principals; or are we guided by a pre-determined yet intellectually unknown track that ultimately affects the quality as well as the length of our lives?
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“I’m a mid-western boy. I grew up in Madison Wisconsin,” explains U.S. Army Staff Sergeant Kyle Hausmann-Stokes. My grandparents have a farm there. But at 18, I needed to do something different than my friends. As much as I love the heartland, I needed to get out of there and do something on my own.

“My grandfather served two tours in Vietnam. He is a lieutenant colonel. My uncle was in the Air Force and the Army. He served one tour in Iraq. The Army has been a legacy in my family.”

And so Kyle enlisted in the United States Army and became a 19-Delta Cavalry Scout/Reconnaissance Specialist. From January 2002 to August 2004, Kyle was assigned to the 1st of the 509th (AIRBORNE) Infantry at the Joint Readiness Training Center (JRTC), at Fort Polk, Louisiana. He completed a variety of infantry specialty schools, such as Airborne, Air Assault, Expert Driver (Wheeled/Track), Advanced Combat Lifesaver, and the Primary Leadership Development Course where he was an Honor Graduate.

His unit simulated true-to-life jungle and urban warfare scenarios for soldiers preparing for deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. His unit’s mission was to be a canny “opposing force” working against a majority of the Army’s Combat Brigades, U.S. Army Rangers, Marine Recon, U.S. Navy SEALS, and U.S. Air Force Combat Controllers. Kyle became an expert in asymmetrical/insurgency warfare,

“We had permission to wear clothes we found at the Good Will Store. We could grow beards and let our hair get long and shaggy. We did not look at all like soldiers.”

The years spent at JRTC in Louisiana would also be the foundation for his emergence as a soldier-filmmaker; Kyle filmed everything from tank missions and urban warfare to the unit’s monthly paratroop jumps from U.S. and Russian planes and helicopters.

“We were an airborne unit and my camera was always with me. Every month, we jumped out of C-130s, Hueys, Blackhawks, Chinooks, I filmed the action. I had a passion for film and made a number of videos.”

Hausmann-Stokes would edit his footage taken from maneuvers and add a heavy metal soundtrack. Every month, his popular videos were played to an appreciative audience at the post theatre.

“Ironically, people from the units his team had recently soundly beaten would come to the screenings just to see themselves,” Hausmannn-Stokes explains. “I became pretty well known as the ‘battalion film guy.’

A Change of Plans

In August 2004, Kyle’s active service obligation was coming to an end. Despite his unit’s extraordinary knowledge of enemy operations, they had never been deployed to Iraq.

“I was three weeks from exiting my active duty commitment and I had made big plans. I had the GI Bill ready to go and was enrolled at Arizona State University. I had located an apartment near the campus. It was exciting to be moving on in my life. But then the unit commander informed us of a change would be affecting the entire unit.”

The Pentagon informed Kyle’s unit leadership that it was on alert and would soon be sent to Iraq. All soldiers who were scheduled to ETS (end term of service) were ordered to continue on active duty (Stop Loss).

“I will never forget that day. I think I was cleaning a 50 caliber barrel and I nearly dropped it on my foot. My parents took the news very hard….I was angry but probably more disappointed than anything. In my heart, I realized that I had signed up for eight years of obligation. I had to live up to my commitment. At least I would be going over with some well-trained buddies.

That was a very bad time for U.S. forces in Iraq and Hausmannn-Stokes was intimately aware of what tactics were being used against our side.

“I had in-depth knowledge of how effective the insurgency could be. As ‘insurgents’ our team never lost. I must have ‘killed’ 30 Americans with laser tag. Our military at the time was not prepared for that type of asymmetrical warfare. ”

“At that time I was 21 and had not been to college. All my friends from high school were nearly at the end of their college experience and so I felt that this turn of events somehow put me a lot further behind. They were talking about ‘keg parties’ and girls while I was marching in the red mud and high humidity of Fort Polk questioning if I had taken the wrong path.”

An Unexpected Change

Literally within days of being shipped out, Kyle was called into his commanding officer’s office. Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Griffith told Hausmannn-Stokes that he had seen several of the videos and admired professionalism in his work. The videos were good for morale and helped to explain what it was the unit did. And then the bombshell: The colonel told Hausmannn-Stokes that he alone was to avoid the stop-loss and be allowed to discharge as planned.

Colonel Griffith recognized Kyle’s innovative creative abilities and cut orders for him to go to college and learn more about the art of filmmaking. The primary condition would be that Hausmann-Stokes would seek out the best film school in the nation and do his best to relate the soldiers’ story.

And so, as his buddies were drawing weapons and being issued dessert fatigues for imminent deployment, in August, 2004, Kyle was separated from his unit and honorably discharged from active duty.

“I numbly saluted and said, ‘Thank you sir.’ And soon pointed my car west on Interstate 10. As I drove to my future, I had time to examine my mixed feelings. I felt bad that my buddies were going to Iraq and I was not. Nevertheless, my life would take a new direction, one that might possibly involve ‘kegs and girls,’ who knows,” Hausmann-Stokes laughs at the recollection.

Kyle immediately made the most of his good fortune. He attended and earned honors at Arizona State University, Universidad de Madrid in Spain, and the University of California-Los Angeles (UCLA).

Between (and during) semesters, he interned at a variety of reputable film and television production companies. Entertainment industry positions/projects of note include Mosaic Media Group (Batman Begins, Talladega Nights), Rockfight/HKM (Crest, KFC, GoDaddy.com), and LUA Multimedia/Canal Vivir (nationwide Spanish news syndicate).

“I went to Madrid, Spain for five months where I worked in television there and got the chance to do some producing.”

The culmination would take place in September of 2006, when Hausmann-Stokes was accepted into the prestigious USC School of Cinematic Arts-Production Program. It was a dream come true. Going to SC would be a wonderful opportunity and he could fulfill his commitment to his unit and his commanding officer.

A Change in Destiny

During the very same week of celebration about SC film school and the week of his birthday, Hausmann-Stokes received a very disturbing, surreal letter. The Department of Defense informed him that he was being recalled to active duty. And furthermore, he would be deployed to Iraq.

“It makes me think that someone up there is a film director with a flair for the dramatic. The letter said, ‘You are hereby relieved of your inactive status and ordered to serve no less than 545 days of active duty in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom.’”

Hausmann-Stokes had been away from the military two and a half years. His recall to active duty was a rare exception. He had discarded most of his military gear. He had grown rusty on military protocol. In his favor, he had remained in good physical condition.

“I spent the next two months contemplating what I should do. I felt guilty not going over with the 509^th. My parents were very concerned about this turn of events. Yet, I saw the deployment as a way to do some film projects. It would be an amazing opportunity to document things.”

His parents were persuasive in asking Hausmann-Stokes to file a petition to be exempted from this active duty based on his enrollment with the film school.

“It turned out that my enrollment in the film school would indeed exempt me from the deployment. In December, I received a telephone call informing me that my appeal had been approved and I would not need to go, after all.”

His was a strong sense of duty, integrity and commitment to the military as well as to his country. So, at 23 years of age and after a long, fitful night, he decided that going was an obligation that he could not walk away from. He informed the Army to rip up his appeal. He would go. Then he needed to ask the film school if he could be deferred while he served.

“USC was very accommodating to me. They said, ‘Let us know when you are coming back and we’ll keep a seat warm for you.’”

From May 2007 to May 2008, Kyle served as a squad leader and convoy commander in Iraq as a member of the 1st of the 160th Infantry Battalion. Promoted to the rank of Staff Sergeant while in country, Kyle presided over as many as 7 gun trucks and 20 soldiers at a time. He completed over 80 combat logistical patrols, traveled over 30,862 miles of the Iraqi countryside, accounted for over $800,000 of equipment, and was subject to roadside bombs and enemy small arms fire. For his actions under fire and meritorious service throughout the year-long deployment, Kyle was awarded 2 Army Achievement Medals and the Bronze Star.

Just before this deployment, while presenting his ASU award-winning film Unwelcome Home at the GI Film Festival, Washington, DC, Kyle befriended the Wounded Marine Careers Foundation, which subsequently provided him equipment he used to shoot over 40 hours of combat footage, soldier testimonials, and interviews with a variety of Iraqi local nationals.

This frontline style of documentation eventually attracted the sponsorship and beta-testing privileges from V.I.O.s Wearable Video Technology Division. V.I.O.’s lipstick-sized camera technology allowed Kyle’s combat photography to thrive, enabling him to position cameras in places never before seen in a military environment.

Background on the Film, “Now, After”

Hausmann-Stokes returned to the USC School of Cinematic Arts in August 2008. In his first semester of film school he wrote, directed, and produced 5 short digital films of various lengths and genres. Kyle’s third and most personal film, reflects a combat-veteran-turned-student’s daily struggle with PTSD and his journey to get help.

The college campus is more than a world away from the brutality that Hausmann-Stokes witnessed first hand.

“Students are preoccupied with other things. When the TV monitors in common areas report on three dead in a given province from an IED, they are disinterested. I, on the other hand, wonder if the lives lost are buddies that I left. I’m still very much attuned to the war and the cost it is exacting.”

I started my first semester at USC and I had to make five films. This film is one of them. It is 100% autobiographical and at one time I was the miserable kid in that film. I was that young troubled combat vet. Today, I still am that college student who you might see walking around the campus.”

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Link to the film by Kyle Hausmann-Stokes, "Now, After:>>

Hector Cedillo’s Road to Redemption

Bill Pike — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 22:19:00 GMT

It is Sunday afternoon in Macarthur Park. Pastor Hector Cedillo strides to a familiar location just below a tree in a sunny and grassy corner. With a snappy looking broad-brimmed straw hat on his head, he sports a spotless white shirt and matching pants.

As he has done for five-years, he opens his bible and begins reading a passage aloud, first in English and then in Spanish. Cedillo’s message is in marked contrast to others who will often shout a fear-based message to the downtrodden, “Repent you sinners before it is too late.”

Cedillo instead speaks of God's love, forgiveness and redemption; even in the most desperate of times and dire personal situations. It is a message that resonates with people in the park and draws them closer to his "pulpit."

A few grizzled men begin to straggle over to the periphery and listen. Some smoke cigarettes and all keep a distance from the Pastor. At the same time, four small Hispanic women with very small children sit together to the Pastor’s right, but are careful not to mix with the other tattered white, black and Mexican men who continue arriving. The women, we learn, are from El Salvador. For reasons not revealed, their husbands are nowhere in sight.

A bearded young man in his twenties with a shock of unkempt, unwashed jet black hair, a torn tee shirt and filthy slacks straggles in. He is wearing only one shoe and appears to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol or both. He collapses on the lawn within hearing distance and appears to be sleeping. More distressed men continue to wander in and sit or lie down at a distance.

Cedillo’s assistants know their role and ever so gently begin to encourage these bedraggled men to venture closer, offering them chairs. The quiet but persistent encouragement from the “ushers” continues until an approximate semi-circle is formed around Cedillo. The Pastor continues to read and speak his message, seemingly oblivious to the unkempt assemblage around him.

Just who is this pastor and what is it that motivates him to minister so passionately to the homeless, the drugged and mentally ill population? When you read Hector Cedillo's story, then you will understand how he knows, first hand, the battles so many of these men are fighting.

Hector's Odyssey
Before coming to the United States, Hector Cedillo lived a simple life growing up in a small town just north of Mexico City. He’d been as far north as Tijuana, selling tacos as a street vendor. However, in the summer of 1969, as a young man, he left his family, friends and familiar surroundings to emigrate from Mexico into the United States.

“When I was in junior high school, I got hooked listening to radio stations in Mexico that exclusively played the American music. I fell in love with the songs and believed that I was observing the brink of a musical explosion. I did not understand the words but I was easily able to identify with the groups such as Chicago, The Doors, The Mamas and Papas, Sly and the Family Stone, and others. It was so exciting for me to hear this music.”

Through the music, at seventeen years, Cedillo was slipping under the spell of a seductive culture from the north that offered a life of mind-expanding experiences (enabled by psychedelic pharmaceuticals) and the possibility of free love (presumably with lots of willing, nubile, young women). In stark contrast to the limited possibilities of a life in tradition-bound Mexico, what could be more exciting to a young man reaching the prime of his life during the ‘60s?

His father lived in Los Angeles and was pretty good at managing creative immigration documentation. He needed Hector’s income to supplement his young family. Cedillo’s temporary, Tijuana-crafted passport (of dubious legitimacy) would do nicely. And so Hector embraced his new life initially as a field worker in the Central Valley harvesting crops.

“Later I came back to (the industrial district of) Los Angeles to work in a textile factory on Third (street) and San Pedro. I lived with my father and his wife with their young children. I made about $75 a week of which I kept approximately $10 or $15. I made a commitment to my father to stay and work in the job for a year.”

Upon his arrival in a new country, Cedillo faced lifestyle choices. How would he relate to those around him? What would he wear to make sure people knew what his values in America were about?

“I could be either a ‘gang banger’ or a ‘hippie.’ After some thought, I decided to embrace “peace and love.’”

“The first music concert I went to was at the Greek Theater.” Cedillo’s eyes light up at the recollection. “Chicago was there and I loved their music. I couldn’t speak a word of English and I just listened to the sounds from the outside.”

Cedillo remained outside the venue because he did not have enough money for a $12 ticket. Each subsequent night, he pan handled paying customers outside the Greek Theater entry way for any extra change, and on the last night of the engagement, he was able to pay for a ticket and watch the concert from a seat inside.

“During that same summer, the Los Angeles County Museum offered a concert featuring Sly and the Family Stone, Stevie Wonder, the Bee Gees and Ray Charles. It was like heaven. I was completely blown away by the music.”

Cedillo's life followed a pattern; he worked in the factory during the day and partied at night. If he had any cash in his pocket by Friday, he’d look for concerts he could afford on the weekends.

“I loved my summers in the ‘60s and met all kinds of fantastic people who were really friendly to me. The first thing they would do is to introduce me to drugs. It was perfectly cool and people from San Francisco were doing drugs openly in the streets. ‘Try this or try that’ my new friends would say, offering me pipes and joints. I gladly accepted.”

The English language still eluded him, His inability to converse with his new friends and the women he would meet frustrated him. He wanted to able to have conversations, so he went to Adams High School to expand his English vocabulary and improve on pronunciation. During this time, he met a Mexican woman. They decided to live together; she became pregnant and so they got married.

“During that period of my life I would travel to San Diego or San Francisco and I would almost always meet the nicest people who would willingly share their living space and drugs. I never took my wife. She stayed home with the baby. I discovered the music of Jerry Garcia, the Grateful Dead, Santana…”

As time went on, Cedillo was introduced to the harder drugs, Cocaine and Heroin.

“I really loved Cocaine. It made me feel like Superman. It made me think that I know everything. I could establish any kind of conversation with anybody when I did Coke.”

When the sixties ended, times were indeed changing, but not for the better. There was a harder edge to the parties. He began to change jobs and found himself dissatisfied, searching for something but unsure of what it was that he desired. Because they were plentiful and available on the street, he continued to take drugs, but he also began attending classes at East Los Angeles College. He took computer and business classes to improve his chances for jobs that would keep him off the factory floor.

As changes swept through his life, his love for the music remained a strong influence. “Anyone who was big at the time, I saw them,” Cedillo explains. “Police, Led Zeplin, Berlin, Men at Work…”

One day, a stranger came up to Cedillo who was spending much of his free time “hanging” with a group of drug-using friends in Macarthur Park. He isolated Hector from the group and said, “I think you are just the guy I’m looking for. I need someone who has a good business sense to move some product for me.”

That would be the beginning of his dealing days, selling a very intense powerful type of Marijuana known on the street as “Columbian Red.”

It was a great opportunity and sales were brisk. Cedillo could afford to buy a car and could wear nice clothes. Unlike the movies or television, Cedillo’s drug contact was a professional. Once the money was exchanged they would have conversations just like any business acquaintances might. Cedillo had very few concerns about whether selling dope was ethical. On the other hand, he was certainly not eager for his family to know what kind of “business” he was in.

“Sure, I knew that dope was illegal, but I did not believe it was wrong. So many people were doing dope and they were always happy when I sold it to them. I never thought too much about it.”

Cedillo pauses to think back about the period and says, “Remember, at that time, there were ‘head shops’ doing business all over L.A. You could go to any of 25 stores on Hollywood Boulevard and openly purchase all kinds of glass pipes in every color of the rainbow. These pipes were not used for tobacco. Drugs were simply part of another style of living.

“I had several friends at that time who would stop by and buy bricks at $200 to $300 apiece. Of course I was smoking a lot of that stuff too. I had all kinds of cash and it was easy for me to impress everyone by picking up the tab whenever I went out. I bought a Nissan 240-Z that was army green and had leather interiors. Then I bought a van. I drove it on all kinds of vacations. I never sold ‘dime bags,’ however. That street-level trade was beneath me and not my style.”

Family and the Business
Cedillo’s younger brother noticed that there was money to be made and began selling marijuana in dime bags in Lafayette Park near Hoover. He was new to the trade, much less experienced in knowing his customers, and generally less circumspect in an industry that requires a high degree of discretion. It wasn’t long before he was spotted by undercover police, arrested and put in jail.

“My brother’s wife, Silvia, came to me and said, ‘You know what? They busted your brother.’ I’m going to give you 24-hours to get him out of jail. If you don’t spring him I’m going to tell everyone in your family and their friends what you have been doing.”

Cedillo immediately felt a chill. For the first time, he experienced intense pressure to preserve his reputation…such as it was. He made contact with everyone he knew to get his brother out on bail. A cousin put up her house as collateral. The incident was a seismic jolt to Cedillo’s overconfident attitude. He now realized just how much risk he was assuming.

“If that happened to my brother…well then…I’m probably next. I began to think about how ashamed and embarrassed I would feel if my family would have to come to jail to see me. It would be very hard on my mom and dad. I resolved that I could not let that happen”

In a high-risk move, Cedillo approached his drug supplier, explained his fears and asked to be let out of the business. His supplier was openly disappointed and told Cedillo that he would miss the money, but surprisingly allowed him to discontinue dealing.

“I was always up front with him and I think that kept me on his good side.”

In addition to some factory work, he supplemented his adjusted income by working for his father taking Polaroid portrait photos of people during the weekends in Macarthur Park. He needed the money for the apartment he and his wife rented. His wife also worked to support their meager income.

Life Speeds Downhill
The drug use continued and eventually ended the marriage. Cedillo’s cocaine habit was spiraling out of control. It began as one gram, but soon escalated to three grams a week with no end in sight. Increasingly estranged from his family, Cedillo began to spend more time living in Macarthur Park. His sole passion was to do Coke on a daily basis.

In an unfortunate bit of luck, he met a well-placed connection in the park who showed him how easy it was to manufacture and distribute “crack.” Crack is a solid, smokable form of cocaine. It is a freebase form of cocaine that can be made using baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) or sodium hydroxide, in a process to convert cocaine hydrochloride (powder cocaine) into methylbenzoylecgonine (freebase cocaine).

He would accept a kilo of pure cocaine, divide it into three separate bricks and then subdivide the bricks. With trusted friends, they would find a safe kitchen in a motel room where they could mix and cook the blend. Some of the product would be smoked, some packaged for later use and the rest of the inventory would serve as income to repay his supplier. Crack provided Cedillo with a steady income. At the same time, it took away any interest he had in anything other than getting high so it wasn’t long before he walked away from his job.

Living in Dangerous Times
“I had lost any interest in working or returning to my wife in our apartment. All I wanted to do was get stoned on crack or heroin. When I needed to sleep, I would lie under a bench in the park. I hung with group that I shared my drugs with, and these people, in turn, would watch my back when I was high or asleep.”

The park was (and continues today to be) a jungle. To survive among fellow dope users, alcoholics, the psychotics, petty crooks, and gang bangers, he willingly shared anything of value he had on his person including his drugs. He would get food for friends if they were hungry and had no money. This helped to keep his daily relationships with a population of less than desirable characters from turning into more dangerous conflicts. Good fortune, frequent acts of generosity and increasingly well-honed street smarts kept him from being injured or killed.

Cedillo created and utilized several secret places in the park where he would hide his stash of drugs. These proved to be very effective.

“We relied on a special warning whistle when the police or enemies came around. It was amazing how the police searched the area time after time. They would hassle and search me repeatedly, but were never able to find any of my drugs on me or around the area where I camped. My friends and I would laugh at them.”

In terms of measuring his self esteem, Cedillo took pride in the fact that he was “doing his own thing” without reliance on a job or the charity of others. He had convinced himself that he was a “businessman” and not in the same straits as the homeless vagrants all around him.

“I kept myself neat and clean and I shaved every day. I maintained an account with Bank of America where I deposited sums of cash. I even had a car that was parked on Wilshire Boulevard where I kept my clothes. I wore neat, clean clothes because I did not want to look like I was homeless. If I had the money – not everyday, mind you, but during a week - I would rent a motel room and take a shower. If I had a woman, we would spend a couple of days in a motel room and then I’d return to my life in the park.

“Because of the crack, I could go for days without eating. But, once in awhile, could go to Langers Deli on Alvorado and purchase my favorite item, a turkey drumstick.”

An Awakening Near Christmas
In the rare times when he wasn’t high a small glimmer of awareness began to gnaw at Cedillo concerning his situation: After three years of doing his own thing, he had not only lost any contact with his wife and children, he was living full time on the ground in a public park, fully exposed to the elements. The veneer of self deception about his status had worn thin. Perhaps it was a touch of nostalgia or loneliness that caused him to question his life in December of 1982.

“Christmas in Mexico is a big event. On December twenty-third, out of no where, I asked myself, what am I doing here when I could return to Mexico and be embraced by my whole family? Perhaps, at some low conscious level, there was a pervading feeling of loneliness and I was looking to find the unconditional love of my family.

“I had close to a thousand dollars in my bank account from crack sales. Without any hesitation, I booked a flight to Mexico City. Of course, I hid some drugs and took them with me as they were an important part of my life.”

Cedillo citizenship status was “illegal immigrant” at that time. It did not matter. His mind was not focused on the risks of a trip across the border. The draw of his family was all consuming.

The reunion was warm and festive. Cedillo was hallucinating on the drugs he’d ingested, but, after so many years of abusing substances, he was able to maintain a calm external appearance to those around him. No one knew what he was doing. The visit was an excellent chance to catch up and meet new members of his extended family.

A Chance Meeting
At his family’s home, Cedillo met a 19-year old young woman, Luz, who was a cousin to his older brother’s wife. According to Cedillo, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life. Cedillo, who was 29 years old, was taken by her beauty and poise. They talked at length, yet she remained detached.

He soon would be returning to his “business” in Los Angeles but asked if he could write to her so that they could stay in touch. She passively agreed.

Cedillo was able to return to Los Angeles without getting caught by agents at the airport and once again resumed his life in the park.

Cedillo’s older brother called to inform him that he had decided to work in the United States. Further, he would be getting a small apartment in Los Angeles and would like Hector to join him and his wife to help with the rent. Then he dropped a bombshell. Luz would be coming from Mexico to live with them in the apartment, as well.

It was an ideal, cozy living arrangement as far as Cedillo was concerned. Luz wanted to go to church on Sunday, but Cedillo was not interested in religion. He preferred going to Venice Beach or getting high and taking in the laser show at the Griffith Observatory in Griffith Park.

The Crisis
When the living arrangement began, Cedillo would not reveal that he was engaged in drug dealing, indicating only that he had “things to do” each morning. The vagueness gave the impression that he might be gainfully employed. But as a nightfall came and Cedillo’s return home became less certain, his brother, sister in law and even Luz began to suspect that he might be involved in something like hanging out with friends and drinking.

It was worse. Cedillo had slipped again into a pattern of living some nights in the park, but then returning after a day or two to the apartment and Luz. His pattern of returning predictably after two-days absence was grudgingly accepted. There was no longer any pretending that his was a normal life. No one could have predicted what the pattern would lead to or how dangerous it would prove to be.

In the following weeks a particularly self destructive period ensued. Cedillo’s use of heroin increased. At a party of fellow dealers, he became high and decided to take a “speedball.” He accepted a cocktail of heroin and cocaine mixed together in the same needle and injected the substance into a vein. What a celebration!

This potentially lethal concoction allowed the cocaine to act as a stimulant, raising Cedillo’s pulse to an all-out sprint. But then its effects wore off more quickly than those of the heroin coursing through his blood, which, in turn, put on the brakes and rapidly slowed the beat of Cedillo’s heart. As a result, Cedillo experienced a delayed "overdose" (technically, a severe respiratory depression).

“I was on the fifth floor in a room and lying at an odd angle on the floor. A young man was standing near me, but I could not communicate to him that I was in deep trouble. I could not move. I wasn’t able to think clearly and I could not speak, I was dehydrated as I’d had not eaten nor taken any water for at least four days. Nothing. For the first time in my life I was afraid that I was about to die. What had I done to myself? I desperately needed help.”

When Hector had not returned home after four days, it was a departure from his normal pattern. Luz became increasingly worried and asked Cedillo’s brother to try to locate him. The brother went to the park and was told by some of the drug users that Hector was last seen in a flophouse hotel on Alvarado. They pointed to the hotel.

“Somehow my brother found me and got me back to the apartment. I was carried into the bedroom next to sleeping infants. When she saw me and the shape I was in, Luz wept but never rebuked me for the stupid things I had been doing to my body. Even then she had no idea how long I had been abusing or how many different drugs I had tried.”

Luz filled a basin with warm water and gave Cedillo a warm bath. She literally nursed him back from the brink with tender care and mercy.

“In return, I felt terrible because, while I was being loved, I knew that I had spent the rent money, the grocery money, money for gas, every single cent on the drugs that very nearly killed me. The four days proved that I’d lost control of the drugs and that they held a control over me. I yelled out, ‘I cannot believe how stupid I have been.’ And I started crying.”

Luz came into the bedroom and looked at Hector. She caressed his sweating forehead and asked, “Are you okay?” She knew what he was going through. He was about to withdraw from his addictions “cold turkey” and the prospect was daunting.

Then she said, “You have been so fortunate not to have died from those drugs you took. Perhaps God was watching over you. You tried all those things…you are amazing. But you have so little to show for it…why don’t you try God?”

Cedillo was not open to such a proposition, at least not initially.

“I couldn’t sleep thinking about what she had said. I asked myself, what is ‘God’ and how do I relate to the idea?”

Luz had been going to church with other women. On Sunday morning Cedillo even amazed himself by asking her if she would take him to church.

Hector Cedillo told Luz, (Now Mrs. Luz Cedillo) “I’m going to go forward full blast and accept God in my life.”

After five years, Rev. Hector Cedillo continues as the pastor of a church he planted in MacArthur Park. The “Church by The Lake” attendance consists of about fifty percent homeless, alcoholics and drug addicts. Rev. Cedillo launched a second church in 2004 called La Luz, and an additional two more churches are now being led by men he has trained.

* * *

From the Mountain to the Ocean – A Conversation with Hawaii’s John Cruz

Bill Pike — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 17:00:00 GMT

It was a little past noon and we were going to lunch in Santa Monica and I began to listen to the song on my friend, Jimmy Lem’s car stereo.

“…Mama's in the kitchen cooking dinner real nice,
Beef stew on the stove, lomi salmon with the ice….”

The voice was unusual, unique and I liked the “down-home, warm feel of the lyrics. So, as we drove to Santa Monica, I asked Jimmy who the artist was. “Oh, this is ‘John Cruz,’” Jimmy said, pointing to his dashboard. “He’s big in Hawaii. This is his first album, ‘Acoustic Soul’” Jimmy has family in Hawaii and is pretty tuned in to the music scene. We continued to drive and listen.

“We eat & drink and we sing all day,
Kanikapila in the old Hawaiian way….”

Crossing Olympic and then Santa Monica Boulevard, on our way to lunch, I was expecting an all Hawaiian album. But instead, I noticed that each track of the CD was part of a mix of songs and musical styles. Some songs had a touch of blues, others had a definite folk feel, another picked up a distinctive reggae beat. Then there was a “slack string” guitar solo.

“…On the Island, we do it Island Style,
From the mountain to the ocean from the windward to the leeward side.”

Through the kind assistance of Cruz’s manager, Leslie Truglio Vantage Point was put in touch with John Cruz so we could meet and talk to the man behind the songs.

Vantage Point: That song “Island Style” on “Acoustic Soul;” it has such an authentic local feel. So, were you born and raised in Hawaii?

John Cruz: No. I was actually born in San Diego, but I grew up in Hawaii. My dad was in the service and he was stationed in California. I was born in the hospital at Camp Pendleton. My dad is from California and my mom is from Hawaii.

Our family went back and forth from the mainland to the islands; one kid was born in California, the next in Hawaii and so on.

VP: I love to visit Hawaii. But I often wonder if my vantage point is different from someone who grew up on the islands. Is the lifestyle locals live different from the “hotel culture” one sees during short-term visits?

Cruz: Very different. Tourist dollars are essential to our economy. And so the Hawaii Visitors Bureau has promoted an image of Hawaii to get people to come to the islands and spend their money here. They have promoted Hawaii as being is a tropical land of hula girls living in little grass shacks wearing only grass skirts, that sort of thing.

VP: And what do you see?

Cruz: Hawaii is more of an international place. There is a melting pot of cultures and influences. Because we are located in the Pacific (Ocean) we see a lot of Asian influence on the local scene. We also are significantly influenced by the western culture.

VP: Is Hawaii a place where new trends in music begin?

Cruz: Only in some ways. Hawaii is a little behind the most current western trends. Definitely, the Honolulu scene is several steps behind the Los Angeles scene. I know that Hawaii truly is a laid back place…I left Hawaii because of that. I wanted to get as far away as possible. I lived on the East Coast for several years for that reason.   But eventually I came back and had to make some adjustments in my lifestyle….and it is so good to be back. I love it here.

[John Cruz moved to the East Coast in 1983 and began to find his own “voice” as a singer songwriter. During his 12 years in the Northeast, he cut his musical teeth in subways, coffeehouses and bars in New York's Greenwich Village, as well as in the clubs and local haunts from Martha's Vineyard to the Boston area.]

VP: Coming back from the East Coast after all that time there, were you able to once again adjust to the slower pace and lifestyle in Hawaii?

Cruz: It took awhile but I did. It was hard. I loved living in New York as well as Martha’s Vineyard. But this is my home.

VP: New York has a nonstop, frenetic pace of life. Did that energy change you?

Cruz: When I first got back from the East Coast, I am sure I was quite different from the person I was when I left. I guess I carried that mainland vibe.

VP: How was that “vibe” manifested after you returned?

Cruz: (Laughs) I was fortunate to sit in and join my brother Ernie’s band when I first got back -- the Ka'au Crater Boys. Friends would ask Ernie, “Say, who is that haole (White guy) playing base?” Ernie would try to explain, “Yeah, he’s my brother, John.” And people would say, “Ahhh yeah, cool, brudda John…” Ernie would then have to clarify, “No John IS my brother.”

VP: Do you miss being in the East Coast scene?

Cruz: Sure, at times…I still go to the East Coast frequently and play there. I made a lot of good friends during the years I was living there and growing artistically.

VP: Did you begin to pick up an east coast accent?

Cruz: No, not an accent but I picked up a lot of profanity. (Laughs) That’s just how people talk in New York. It can be a bit more abrasive, but it allows people to get to the point much quicker.

VP: How important is it to stay in touch with the fans you made, say on the East Coast?

Cruz: It’s really important to tour and meet the fans. In today’s music business it is a requirement. The old business allowed you to stay at home, the records would sell, and then you could walk to the mailbox to get paid. Those days are gone. You have to sell every record because it is easy for people to download your songs without paying for them. I hope they buy my records because they relate to me and the enjoyable time they had at the concert I gave.

[John Cruz’s first album, Acoustic Soul was released in 1996. It has sold over 100,000 copies in Hawaii alone. John produced the album and released it on his own label, Lilikoi Records. It spawned radio hits "Shine On," "Sitting in Limbo" and "Island Style," which has become a local anthem in Hawaii. Acoustic Soul won two Na Hoku Hanohano Awards in 1997 -- one for Contemporary Album of the Year and one for Most Promising Artist.]

VP: Can you share the roots of music that influenced you and allowed the songs on Acoustic Soul to be so varied in style?

Cruz: My dad is a country singer and so his musical influences reached me very early in my life. I loved that music. My earliest influences were “pre-Kenny Rogers” country. Merle Haggard, George Jones, Tammy Wynette Patsy Cline, Lefty Frizzel, Loretta Lynne, and Dolly (Parton).

My Mom, until she met my dad, sang in a band that covered a lot of Motown stuff. That was her preference in music. My mom’s record collection was primarily R&B, soul, and some blues. Growing up, I would listen to a lot of Marvin Gay, Otis Redding, Aretha, the Temptations, the Miracles, and so on.

VP: Were your mom and dad’s tastes in each of those very different music genres popular in Hawaii at the time you were exposed to them?

Cruz: (Laughs) No, not really. That was one of the things that drew me to New York. I loved a variety of music styles and figured that New York would be the best possible place to get into them. A lot of local musicians, if they feel Hawaii is “too closed,” go to L.A. It is a natural thing to do if they want to progress.

But I was looking for that “funk” influence in my mom’s music…in hindsight perhaps I should have gone to New Orleans so that I could have soaked up more of that Southern Blues and jazz. I went to New Orleans about four years ago and realized what a powerful and influential music resource it is. There are so many good musicians…and the food is unbelievable.

VP: Did your mainland time expose you to other musical influences?

Cruz: I got into the “singer/songwriter” folk scene. Because I play acoustic guitar it was a natural path for me to play in the coffee house circuit along the east coast. I still am really into the folk and acoustic influences in my music.

VP: When you perform in Hawaii venues, is there acceptance of these other blended styles and external influences in your music? Let me be more direct…Are local fans at concerts and clubs open to blues selections, R&B or folk?

Cruz: I just do it, you know. The reason I left Hawaii was that I could see my future. I was going to be in doing shows in a lounge somewhere, wearing an Aloha shirt singing cover songs or hapa haole.

I was starved for other kinds of music and going to the mainland was what I needed. The good thing about it is that it has come full circle allowing my musical influence to carry forward to other local songwriters and performers. It is also easier today because of the Internet which also exposes people to all kinds of genres of music.

VP: Reggae became a very big musical style in Hawaii in recent years. Why did it catch on so rapidly?

Cruz: In the seventies, parts of Hawaii outside of the larger towns and cities were becoming known as an “herb culture.” As a result, a lot of Hawaiians were interested in reggae; the Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff, and The Wailers style of music.

VP: What was happening musically in school as you grew up during that period?

Cruz: I grew up in town where it was predominately local kids. There were, perhaps at most, two haole kids in the entire school…and they were brother and sister. Then I moved with my mother - who got remarried - from Honolulu and went to Kailua High School which at the time was half white, half local. Music tastes broke down into two somewhat separate cultures: the white culture was a lot of hard rock music, Led Zeppelin and the other bands at that time.

But, at the same time, the locals in my school were listening to pioneering reggae artists. Musical preferences often depended on which social circle you chose to hang with. From my parents, I had a love for all kinds of music.

VP: What about today’s Hawaiian reggae music? Are you interested in or influenced by Hawaii Reggae?

Cruz: I find Hawaiian reggae not the same as reggae music that originated from, and still is sourced from Jamaica. Adopting the music is one thing…(pauses to think) To me, the local versions tend to be a thin recreation of the original sound; something is missing. I can even detect the false reggae accents. Unfortunately, that is what gets a lot of airplay on local radio and a lot of kids get influenced by it. It isn’t for me.

[Cruz’s second album, One of These Days was released on September 25th, 2007. After its debut week, the album reached #1 in Hawaii, #2 on the Billboard Heatseekers Chart for the Pacific Region and #6 on the Billboard World Chart. The Hawaii Academy of Recording Arts gave the album the Na Hoku Hanohano Award for Contemporary Album of the Year.]

VP: On the topic of AM/FM radio airplay, is your music included in the rotation of music being played by Hawaii stations?

Cruz: Acoustic Soul most definitely. It gets airplay on adult contemporary, rock format, and Hawaiian, of course. The latest album (One of These Days), not so much on Oahu. On the outer islands, they play three or four songs from the new album.

One Oahu station, which has a Hawaiian/pop format, includes music from “One of These Days” on their play list. The irony is that my acoustic style of music with a little harmonium sounds gets mixed in with imitation Jamaican/Hawaiian stuff. Go figure. It’s kind of strange, but I’ll take accept it.

VP: Why are the Oahu stations less inclined to pick up songs from the new album?

Cruz: Play lists are so tight, you know. Conglomerates own most of the radio outlets on Oahu. The majority of the market (for radio airplay) is here in Honolulu. The stations are directed to work with consultants on the mainland to try to figure out what songs to include on the radio back here.

The program directors on the outer islands have a little more leeway, and that gives “One of These Days” more exposure there than it does in the Honolulu market.

VP: How much airplay does your new album get on the east coast?

Cruz: “One of These Days” songs get more airplay in Martha’s Vineyard than they do here in Hawaii (laughs).

[While he lived on the East Coast, John Cruz several years in theatre and dance companies, performing everywhere from Lincoln Center to Washington D.C. Cruz starred in a variety of shows, including ensemble productions, two-man plays, and gospel inspired musicals. Cruz was often the leading man, and his roles spanned a wide range of characters and ethnicities. He has played a Chinese immigrant, an embittered Native American, and an Hispanic hustler, to name a few. As a member of the prestigious New World Theater, Cruz played the lead role in "The Dance and the Railroad," by Tony Award-winning Broadway playwright, David Henry Hwang, of M. Butterfly fame. Cruz’s outstanding performance was nationally recognized in the finals of a collegiate drama competition.]

VP: What is the business of music like for you? Do you still enjoy making music as a recording artist?

Cruz: The music is one thing. My love of the music is what keeps me in this profession. The music “business” is a completely different thing. It is an incredibly tough way to make a living. While I still find it rewarding on a personal level, I would not recommend it as a career choice. It is much more difficult now to survive as a recording artist with easy access to downloading and file sharing.

VP: Do people who are not familiar with the business have misconceptions about the lifestyle of a recording artist?

Cruz: People often have this mystique and tend to romanticize what we do. They think it is such a great life. Because your songs are played on the radio, they think you are rich. It’s not like that. A very small percentage of people are successful. But for the rest of us it is hard work and there is a lot of uncertainty.

Living in Hawaii is incredibly expensive and we are reliant on tourists for a major part of the state’s income. Tourist trade is down with the bad economy. People in our business have to be concerned about whether or not people will be willing to spend hard earned money on music. If you sat down and did the math, being a musician wouldn’t be a likely way to earn an income. I joke around in my shows about how much it costs to have a house……But people manage, you know. We all find ways to somehow get along in life.

VP: After your work is done or on weekends, what do you like to do with your free time?

Cruz: I like to go fishing. I like to out to the beach, out to the park or up to the mountains and just hang, you know? I’m more recognizable now so it can be harder to go out in the public and just be “kick back” me. My picture is on the second album, so a lot more people now know what I look like. It’s part of the job and I don’t have a problem with it. People want to have that connection….except some days I don’t have the energy that I need or I’m in a bad mood for some reason and I am forced to put on my smiling face (laughs).

For me, one of the most enjoyable times I have on my free time is going out to see people I know who are playing in bands. Sometimes I go to bars to see people who are still in the process of building their music. But it’s hard, you know?

VP: Why is playing in bars difficult?

Cruz: I played in them for so many years. When I was 15, I thought I had reached the ultimate pinnacle of cool to be playing in a bar. As one who has been there, I can relate to the challenges working musicians face in today’s economy. Costs continue to go up, equipment costs more money and yet the bars are still paying musicians the same amount of money I made back in the ‘70s. It’s frustrating, man.

VP: How rewarding is it to work with family and other musicians?

Cruz: I love listening to the music my two younger sisters (Connie and Tiffa Cruz recently formed a band called, “One Right Turn.”). They just put out a few records. It is interesting because I shared with them examples of song writers, like Patty Griffin, and now I see the influence it has had on them. It is gratifying to see the process being perpetuated through their talent and unique writing skills.

I also get e-mails and calls from other young singer/songwriter musicians in Hawaii who are starting out and have questions about our business. They don’t expect much help as a lot of musicians tend to be secretive about their artistry, choosing not to share insider information on what they know. That isn’t me. It is so great to be able to mentor them!

VP: You mention “artistry” as it relates to song writers. On that topic, how important are the lyrics in the songs that are getting airplay today.

Cruz: I think the lyrics are really important and the best song writers sweat the lyrics. It isn’t always an easy process. What I really would like to see is an improvement in the quality of songwriting in Hawaii. So much of the stuff I hear on today’s radio is written without much thought. The lyrics are really simplistic and the songs lack any kind of life perspective, and emotional depth. We need to try to get people to think a little more about the message of a song. I think we sometimes suffer from our history in Hawaii.

VP: How does Hawaiian History affect Hawaiian song writing?

Cruz: Because we have been serving tourists for so many years, we tend to mistake the terms, “musician,” “singer” and “song writer” with the term “entertainer.” Don’t get me wrong, I like to entertain people and make jokes to get a laugh. But a good song writer has thought about aspects of life and can deliver a message that resonates in people’s hearts or takes on a deeper purpose that comes through in songs he or she creates.

VP: Do song writers in Hawaii need mentors to help them explore more thoughtful or better music?

Cruz: It could be very helpful. When I was their age, I was looking around for someone like me but I couldn’t find him. So, when someone asks me questions about making music, I try to provide as much information as I possibly can. I know how much time that could have saved me when I was getting into my craft. Sharing just a little bit of information with someone can open up so many new ideas and a wealth of possibilities. I love to be a positive part of that process.

VP: Why are more established musicians reluctant to mentor young artists?

Cruz: Some people get upset when they feel an artist has imitated or “ripped off” their unique style.

VP: Do you ever resent people who ride your musical coat tails?

Cruz: I don’t think that way. I love it when I hear my influence on another artist’s music. I can hear exactly where a part of my song comes up in another artist’s work. It is truly how music works; new artists are influenced by the success of others who were instrumental in the style of the music before them. ….and so on, and so on.

VP: Do young song writers/singers ever come up to you and say they are sorry about “borrowing” some phrase or harmony from your music?

Cruz: It takes courage to do that, but some do. Before they can finish apologizing, I tell them that we can’t help but be influenced by what we hear. I will tell them that I actually got that idea from the riff you lifted in a song by Van Morrison.

VP: Do you have a ritual that you go through when song writing? How does it work for you?

Cruz: I love the process but for me there is no rhyme or reason to it. It just happens…it could start with a lyric, a chord or a rhythmic phrase. I can’t predict it but when it happens I feel really blessed. Ever since I was really young I have always loved the creative part of putting a new song together.

VP: What kinds of messages, as a singer/song writer are you sharing in your music?

Cruz: My messages are generally positive. My songs focus on hope. I sing about faith and love. I try to infuse my music with a sense of pride and self worth. I’ve written songs that go further out on the fringe of things, but I’ve been smart enough to keep them off my albums. (Laughs)

VP: How do you prepare before a concert?

Cruz: Some of it is physical. I like to think about what I will be capable of pulling off tonight. Because, from night to night it differs depending on where my voice is at the time. I consider what songs might be difficult in terms of hitting certain notes. I check my fingers to see if they are moving well today. I make decisions about the songs about what to include or sing in a lower key. Emotionally, I want to consider whether or not I can convey the spirit behind a song before I perform it on stage.

When I performed with my father, he’d say to me, “You ready to sing, boy? Are you sure you’re ready? ” In other words he was saying, the people came here and they are ready to hear you. If you’re not ready, don’t put yourself in that position.

VP: From the videos you seem to be having a lot of fun on stage. Is performing your music an enjoyable experience for you?

Cruz: I am so blessed to be doing this. To be very honest, it is a privilege to stand up in front of people and do my music. People plan for months to get out to a concert. They have to pay for a baby sitter and have a dinner out. It’s expensive for some couples. Wow! You know what I mean? They honor me by listening to what I have to say in musical form. I try to deliver messages and music I hope people will carry with them for awhile.

VP: So you have just wrapped up a great performance. People loved you and brought you back for a couple more songs. The sound system was perfect. They knew your songs and sang along with you. How does that feel?

Cruz: It is an amazing high to be able to help generate and perpetuate that kind of energy. I feel wonderful and I go through it in my mind when the show is over.

But then sometimes it’s an hour later, everybody’s gone and you have packed up your stuff and you are driving home. Maybe your car breaks down on the side of the road and you’re trying to get a ride home. People stare at you and they just keep driving right past you…You know what I mean?

VP: It sounds like returning to the real world has a significant downside?

Cruz: Life and being on stage are two entirely separate things for me. When you are on stage and you are that long-haired musician character, people love it. But when you are that long-haired sort of stranger on the roadside with your thumb out for a ride, where there isn’t that glamor and mystic, then it can be frustrating.

Before I go on, I could have had a fight with a friend or lover just before the concert, but I have to put that aside for the time being…compartmentalize it,,, and get into the music.

After a performance it can be tough to go back to your hotel room and be alone. You are tired. You try to get four-hours of sleep before you have to drive 400 miles to the next concert location for a sound check. That can be tough.

[In 2005, John Cruz was given a Grammy for his original song "Jo Bo's Night." The song was featured on the compilation CD Slack Key Guitar Volume 2, which won the first Grammy ever awarded for Hawaiian music. Hawaii Magazine named him the Best Singer Songwriter in Hawaii in 2008.]

VP: How did it feel to win the Grammy?

Cruz: When your peers recognize you, it’s a wonderful feeling inside and it helps with record sales. But it also takes longer to introduce me on stage, you know? (laughs)

VP: Do you look at awards and recognition such as “Best Singer Songwriter in Hawaii” as career milestones?

Cruz: No, not really. Not in a disrespectful way. I look at them as blessings.

VP Were you surprised to win the awards?

Cruz: The Grammy thing was a shocker. I thought, for sure, a singer would win. It was pretty neat to be recognized as an instrumentalist. It is an honor…like wow! I still consider myself fumbling around, especially on “flat key.”

VP: What is the future for John Cruz?

Cruz: I just hope I’m going in the right direction. Sometimes we stray, at other times we take steps backward. I try to reassure myself that I am heading in the right direction that it is good and solid as a singer, a song writer, as a person, a brother and a father. I don’t try to put too much in the way of accomplishing specific future objectives. Sometimes, thinking about a huge hit record or massive airplay can get in the way of my connections with people I want to reach and relate to today. Being a very good musician is not necessarily going to make you successful. I’ve also seen people who were extremely mediocre and enjoyed a lot of success. Go figure. But if the timing thing happens and my career continues to climb, I’ll be respectful and grateful.

With economic pressures, most music programs have been cut from the public schools in Hawaii, even though music is such an integral part of the Hawaiian culture. John Cruz became involved because he wanted to make a difference. Cruz is the official spokesman for Sprint Hawaii and is working through the Mr. Holland’s Opus program to put musical instruments in the hands of local school children.

John visits public elementary schools along with Sprint representatives to donate free ukuleles to classrooms in need. Schools in low income neighborhoods that have established music programs are selected as possible beneficiaries. Then the school is contacted to see if they need new instruments.

Sprint will pay for sometimes up to 100 new ukuleles and surprise these kids with an assembly and concert performance by John. He jams with the kids, mostly on “Island Style” since they all know it. Cruz tells them stories about the importance of staying in school and believing in dreams, even if they come from an economically disadvantaged situation. Kids respect Cruz because he's one of them and his life serves as a good example.

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The “Night Rider” Convoy in Harm’s Way

Bill Pike — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 16:25:00 GMT

The shadows have grown slightly longer on a hazy, warm, late afternoon. Summer is giving way on the grounds of the West Los Angeles Veterans Administration. On the north portion of the sprawling campus, a mature grove of elms provide a generous canopy of shade over the Veteran’s Garden intersected by enticing gravel paths and potted horticultural specimens. This serene spot - located only yards away from the traffic on Wilshire Boulevard and the 405 freeway – is a quiet refuge.

Right on time, a smiling Tatiana Reyes joins me at a group of shaded picnic tables. The tables are used on Thursdays for people to eat lunches, fruits and drinks purchased at the farmers market. Reyes arrives from her volunteer work with the Occupational Therapy Clinic at the VA, elsewhere on the campus, and we begin to talk.

Reyes grew up in Southern California and graduated from Gardena High School. After graduating in 2003, she enrolled and began a course load at El Camino College. Immediately after high school graduation she also signed up to join the Army Reserve.

“I don’t really know exactly what made me decide to join the Army,” Reyes muses. “I guess I did it to get away from home.”

“Tati,” as she prefers to be called, served her basic training in Fort Jackson (South Carolina). Her advanced training in November of 2005 was at Fort Lee (Virginia). According to the plan, her primary MOS (Military Occupation Specialty) would be 92Alpha - Supply and Logistics. Following the completion of advanced training, she was assigned to the 693rd Quartermaster. However, in October of 2005, Reyes was informed that she would be shipped over to Iraq and that her MOS would be reclassified to “88Mike” (Truck Driver). So much for the plan.

She was sent to Fort Knox (Kentucky). At 4 foot 11 inches in height and a petite build, this new job seemed, at the very least, incongruous. Was Reyes surprised by the job change?

“Well, yes, I was surprised. I even asked my commander, am I going to be reclassified? He told me it was unlikely as they needed people with my primary MOS. That made me mad, as driving a truck was not what I’d been trained to do.”

Getting to the 250th Transportation Company
Before going to Iraq, Tati was sent to Fort Bliss (Texas) where she trained on driving both the M915a and the M800 series 5-ton trucks. She also went through additional truck driver training on the 18-wheelers at Camp McGregor, located near Fort Bliss.

“We practiced on the vehicles we were supposed to drive. But when we arrived in Iraq, that all changed and I ended up being assigned and driving a Humvee Performer.”

For Tati to get to Iraq proved to be considerably more complex than simply booking a flight to the nearest military base. At stops along the way, soldiers with printed orders would join the initial contingent and the numbers of Iraq bound troops continued to grow. Making new friends was a somewhat pleasant experience, as Reyes explains.

“From Fort Bliss (Texas), we went to Fort Knox (Kentucky) to await the main group of troops destined to go to Iraq. When all had arrived, a charter flight took us to Kuwait.

“From there we took a C-130 (The Army’s venerable military cargo plane) to Iraq. Along the way, it was easy to get acquainted.”

But when the group reached Iraq, they were split up and individuals were sent to different platoons…it was hard on Reyes to lose contact with those with whom she had found much in common.

“In fact,” Reyes says, “it sucked.”

The newly arrived soldiers were offered very little in the way of hospitality or courtesy; no helping hands or smiles. Reyes expected this and explains that it was because she and the others coming in fresh were not a part of the original unit; they had not shared the same experience (combat exposure) the original people had in common.

“This was true throughout my entire time in Iraq. We were considered ‘outsiders.’”

Despite the cool reception in a very hot climate, Tati began to assume her vehicle maintenance and driving duties. The job included some very long hours.

“It was tough. First we had to get our truck up and ready to go. We had to perform ‘Level-Ten’ (routine vehicle maintenance) and be sure the vehicle was prepared and fueled for the mission the following day. We worked from lunch time (Noon) to get ready, then all the way through the night on our convoy until the next morning or until noon.”

The Night Riders
Reyes was stationed in Tallil, Iraq which was two-hours away from Kuwait. The mission was to convoy overnight (Hence the name of the unit) to Camp Anaconda and deliver food, water, fuel and replacement troops to approximately five military organizations along the route and then return. Other convoys had very frequent encounters with small arms fire and improvised explosive devices (IEDs) planted along the route. Tati’s good fortune was holding.

“When I first began driving in the convoys, it was scary because I didn’t know what I was getting into. I kept hearing stories about other convoys that got hit nearly every time they went out. But we just did our runs every night and I sort of got used to it.”

While driving the convoy over and over without incident helped make Reyes and the others in her squad feel somewhat more at ease with a routine, it was none-the-less a physically uncomfortable experience. Everyone had to tolerate being cooped up in intense heat while wearing several layers of body armor. They would drive three-hours to a forward location to pick up the load and wait for nightfall.

“We weren’t in the ‘green zone’ but it was safe enough to drive during the day. That was where we would pick up our load and wait for our SP (time to depart).

“It was hot and the air conditioning in the vehicles usually wouldn’t work. To have an AC but not be able to use it made it worse. We also were required to keep our windows rolled up at all times which made it at least ten-degrees hotter inside the cab. We were required to wear a Kevlar PASGT Flak Jacket. It was torture. I don’t think you ever get used to the heat in Iraq, you just drink a lot of water. We would come out and be drenched in sweat.”

Instant Hell
On March 9, 2007, Tati’s good fortune as a driver ran out. The vehicle she was driving was suddenly rocked by the intense explosive force of an IED. At first she was dazed and confused.

“I don’t remember much about it. I didn’t even see the flash. One moment I was driving and in seconds I was still behind the wheel, confused, wondering what had happened?

“My vision was weird. Everything seemed to be illuminated in a green light. I was about to turn to my TC (Co-driver and navigator) and ask him what happened. But, for some reason, I didn’t turn. Instead I looked down and saw that my legs were on fire. I just looked. I didn’t realize, at first, what was going on. Then it hit me what had happened. I went into ‘panic mode’ for a couple of seconds and I started screaming that I was on fire. My first instinct was to get out.

“I vaguely remember opening the door and jumping out. I don’t think the vehicle was moving very fast. I must have rolled to the curb. The flames were gone and I felt no pain at that point.”

Her fellow soldiers were ignoring the imminent possibility of an enemy ambush so that they could move Tati – who was seriously injured and unable to walk - out of harm’s way.

“I recall people picking me up and then, oh my God, I did feel intense pain when they lifted me off the street. It was chaotic.”

Her vehicle had taken a direct hit, was still smoking and was no longer operable. Army Specialist Salas, ran over to assess her injuries. Reyes’ uniform was covered in fresh blood. Staunching the blood loss was of primary importance. Salas located the source of the profuse bleeding and fixed a tourniquet on her leg just above where most of the blood was flowing.

Distracted by the noise of the situation, Salas turned away for a moment and when he looked back, she had gone into shock. All color was draining from her face. He later confided, “I was scared that we would lose her right there.”

She was carried by her teammates to another Humvee in the halted convoy. Reyes used all her strength to pull herself into the Humvee.

“I remember people looking in and asking me, ‘Are you OK?’ And I would answer them, ‘Yeah,’ I’d say, ‘I’m fine. But I feel like taking a nap.’”

Feeling sleepy was a sign of shock and those around her loudly implored, “Don’t fall asleep! Stay awake!”

“I was laying down in the middle of the Humvee and I looked up to see who the gunner was. It was Sergeant Pintu, the convoy commander. He looked down and gave me a smile to say everything would be alright.”

“The TC from my vehicle, who received shrapnel wounds to his legs and I were both ‘casevaced’ (Driving from the point of injury to the nearest military medical facility) to a TMC.”

From the TMC, Reyes was transported to a CASH unit in Baghdad. She was placed in an artificial coma and transferred to Landstuhl, Germany. Her condition: Extremely critical.

Including a probable traumatic brain injury (TBI) Reyes sustained a splenectomy, cut sciatic nerve, transverse colon tear, torn kidneys, a collapsed lung, as well as 2nd and 3rd degree burns to her left flank and lower legs, and multiple infections. She was in very bad shape.

According to Stacey Curtis, M.S., CCC-SLP and Speech Pathologist at the West Los Angeles VA, “Most of our vets with TBI’s sustained in the current conflicts fall within the mild TBI range or what is also known as ’post concussive syndrome’ (PCS). It is considered one of the “signature injuries” of this conflict and a ‘silent epidemic.’ TBI’s can be closed head injuries or penetrating injuries. The part that can be frustrating is that the term “mild” TBI is a bit of a misnomer because it does not mean that the effects a mild TBI have on one’s life are ‘mild.’”

“From my sciatic nerve injury, today I still have no movement or feeling in my left foot and ankle,” Reyes explains.

Once her condition was medically stable, she was transferred to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C. for three and a half months. Later, she would be transferred to the Palo Alto VA facility for another month to receive further rehabilitation of her injuries and an evaluation of a traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).

The medical teams that initially treated Reyes along the way, were pessimistic about her ultimate prognosis. They tried to prepare her family for a troubling time ahead. Even if she was to survive her injuries (which was very much in doubt during her hospital stay), it was likely that she would be facing many years of therapy. A large unknown was the extent of her TBI. Reyes was on anti-pain medication which caused her to slip in and out of consciousness.

“When I would wake up, I had no idea where I was. Walter Reed Hospital was a pretty big surprise to me. This mental fog continued for about a month. My family arrived the same day I did and so they had to look at a stranger who didn’t even recognize them.”

Feeding tubes were inserted, then removed and then reinserted. The injuries, operations and drugs often conspired against each other. Her stomach was shutting down. Her normal weight of 110 lbs went down precipitously to 88 lbs.

“I was covered by all sorts of tubes, IVs and monitors. The surguries and medications affected my ability keep food down. As a result, I had lost a lot of weight and my hair fell out. I must have looked very strange to my family.”

After a difficult three and a half months, Reyes had reached a turning point in her recovery. While she was not out of the woods medically speaking, there were signs of recovery and stability. Her skin grafts (to cover the burned tissues on her legs) were taking and she was finally able to leave Walter Reed.

However, before being discharged, she would be transferred to the VA hospital in Palo Alto (CA) to assess the severity of her brain injury. The Palo Alto VA assessment of TBI would take another month. It would, however, be the last stop before she would be allowed to come home.

Coming Home
“Being at home was the best feeling ever. I can’t describe it. I loved every moment with my family. Most important, I was finally able to keep food down,” Reyes explains.

After a month at home and home cooking, Reyes spirits were buoyed, she regained lost weight and her physical recovery continued. She had turned another important corner.

In July 2007, Reyes began her course of therapies at the West Los Angeles VA. Today, she continues therapies, under the aegis of Polytrauma (Please refer to Footnotes below) She continues to volunteer in the Occupational Therapy Clinic and commutes to the VA from home.

“I feel much better. My spirits are up…Being at home made such a drastic improvement. My walking has improved. I still have more surgeries scheduled for my burns. I continue to work on my TBI.”

In July 2008, Tatiana Reyes was awarded the Purple Heart for the injuries she sustained in combat operations in Iraq.

“I did not lose a limb and TBI is not a visible injury. Today I look OK and it is possible for me to hide my injuries. But I’m not about to live my life avoiding signs of what happened to me in Iraq. Sometimes, if choose to wear shorts, there will be some people who will notice my scars and ask, ‘What happened to you?’

“It is rude to ask and I resent that type of question because the people who ask it are not in touch with who I am or care about me as a person. They don’t deserve a straight answer from me.”

“My family provides me with my most important base of support. They know first-hand what I have gone through and continue to be with me as I recover and take on new challenges.”

“In my recovery, I have learned to get past the fear of doing things. And while I have a disability, it is not the focal point of who I am. I have no limits and take pride in proving to myself that I can accomplish the goals I set out.”

Reyes is focusing on a return to school and earning an eventual degree in Recreational Therapy.

* * *

Footnotes

Definition of Polytrauma:
Current combat operations produce new patterns of multi-system injuries—blast injuries
• Two or more injuries to physical regions or organ systems
• One or more may be life threatening
• Result in physical, cognitive, psychological, or psychosocial impairments and functional disability

A Polytrauma veteran’s care and rehabilitation is overseen and managed by the Polytrauma Rehabilitation Team, which may include: physiatrists, physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, vocational rehabilitation services (Supported Employment is one example service within Vocational Rehab Services which can also include vocational assessment, vocational/career exploration, trade training, college and university training, on the job training as well as a number of other services.), neuropsychology, psychiatry, nursing, blind rehabilitation outpatient specialists (BROS), social work, recreational therapy and anaplastology/restorative therapy.

The Polytrauma Rehabilitation and Education Program (PREP) at the West Los Angeles VA was developed by the Polytrauma Rehabilitation Team specifically for Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom (OEF/OIF) Veterans who have been diagnosed with cognitive deficits due to brain injury and/or PTSD. This program is designed to allow veterans to further their rehabilitation and independence in a group setting in addition to their individual therapies.

What is a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI)?
Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA, 34 CFR 300.7) defines TBI as “an acquired injury to the brain caused by an external physical force, resulting in total or partial functional disability or psychosocial impairment, or both, that adversely affects a child’s (person’s) educational performance. The term applies to open or closed head injuries resulting in impairments in one or more areas, such as cognition, language, perceptual, and motor abilities; psycho-social behavior; physical functions; information processing; and speech. The term does not apply to brain injuries that are congenital or degenerative, or to brain injuries induced by birth trauma.”