How to give thanks? Help us help some kids through a difficult holiday.

Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved.

And the adults, too.

I've already written elsewhere about what today means for Wings and me. It's a day of mourning and remembrance, true, but also, as I said last year, a day of celebration . . . and, of course, a day of thanksgiving. It's also a day that puts us in mind of the ancestors, remembering their sacrifices, all that they have given to us, even now.

This evening, just before we finished our tasks for the day, Grandfather appeared. He was not willing to let me capture his image today; this one is from a few weeks ago. But his brief appearance, as I was completing this particular task, I took as a sign that I'm meant post this tonight, rather than waiting for tomorrow.

I've written in the past about our friends, Amanda and Jack (who a lot of you know as Vetwife and Vet). They've been through the wringer several times over just this year alone.

Unfortunately, fate wasn't done with them yet.

Earlier this year, I wrote a post here to help raise funds for the family in the aftermath of Jack's near-miss with death. They're raising kids and grandkids, battling health problems on multiple fronts, and every day is a struggle to keep several bodies and souls together.

Now, the whole family has been touched by tragedy that no one should every have to know. The costs are staggering. The family is facing a bleak holiday season as it is; without some help, the five young ones, particularly, will have a very tough time indeed.

Details are over the jump, but first, if you want to help: I persuaded Amanda to set up an Amazon wish list for the family. I told her to make it as comprehensive as possible (given the short period of time she's had to work on it), because you never know who will want to help out with what. So there are a variety of items on it: some toys and educational items that are very clearly for the kids; some needed practical items, like bedding; and a few things for the adults, like music. Most items are very modest, but she's wisely included some "dream" items, too. If you'd like to help by purchasing something off the wish list, go here. [If you do buy something from it, let Amanda know (or let me know so that I can pass it on to her) so that she can remove it and avoid duplication.] If you prefer simply to give cash to help with expenses, you can do so via their PayPal account, at amandakato [at] msn [dot] com.

Now, follow me over the jump for the backstory.


As a lot of you already know, Jack is a disabled vet. Like a lot of our Native men of his generation, he went to VietNam (indeed, our people serve in the American armed forces at the highest rates of any ethnic group in the nation, despite this nation's long history of shameful treatment of our peoples). While there, he was exposed to Agent Orange, which permanently wounded his body, and the horrors of an illegal war, which similarly scarred his soul. In their state, navigating the abyss that is what passes for veterans' healthcare is itself a never-ending battle — and one that, a few months ago, nearly ended his life.

Now, the entire family is grieving an unspeakable loss.

A few weeks ago, their daughter-in-law in Georgia went to her son's house, looking for her child. Instead, she found his body. At age thirty-one, his life is over; his children are without their father, and other family members are missing a cousin, an uncle, a brother, a son and grandson.

Grief is a terrible thing. By turns, it numbs, paralyzes, swamps you with an avalanche of pain. And yet, in the midst of all of this, we have to take care of the survivors, make arrangements, and handle all of the thousand and one details that attend death in this society. That doesn't necessarily involve clear thinking, and there are always opportunists waiting to take advantage.

Jack and Amanda's daughter-in-law took care of the funeral arrangements herself, alone. And the funeral home was only too happy to present her with a bill for $13K. Yes, thirteen thousand dollars.

Death is an expensive proposition in this country. It's also a profitable business.

Amanda and Jack committed to helping her pay it off in installments. Of course, they're already stretched far beyond their limit at the best of times, with health expenses and raising kids and grandkids and doing their best to keep all the wheels turning. This added expense means that there is nothing left over for the holidays — certainly not for gifts.

But these kids — three girls, ages 2, 10, and 11; and two boys, ages 4 and 7 — are already facing a grief-stricken holiday season. And when you're a child, going without Christmas gifts is doubly tough, particularly when all your friends are eagerly showing off their own presents and asking what you got. They shouldn't have to deal with that on top of such a huge loss in their young lives.

And frankly, it's not just the kids. Adults deserve some pleasantness in their holidays, too, and happiness is going to be in short supply for them this year, as well. So if you're inclined to pitch in the for the adults, there are five of them: ages 20, 22, 46, 64, and 65.

To help with gifts that you can be sure will be wanted, take a look at Amanda's Amazon wish list. It includes a broad range items at a diversity of price points. Several of them are Amazon Prime-eligible, and so shipping may be free. And, of course, Amazon has already begun its Black Friday sales days early, so shopping now may mean better deals for buyers. 

If you'd rather simply send cash to help defray expenses, you can do so via Amanda's PayPal address:  amandakato [at] msn [dot] com.

Wings and I will be sending along some gifts. We hope you'll all join us in trying to help ease some of the pain that will inevitably mark the Kato family's holidays this year. From both of us, ta'a and chi miigwech.





All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.