We are sitting in my room at the no-tell motel. Rollingthunder6 occupies the chair in the corner, his back to the wall. I am seated across the table from him. Smiling inside because he selected the chair that I would have chosen for myself. Back to the wall, eye on the door. An ever-watchful perspective.

A long time ago I read somewhere that there is supposedly some deep-seated psychological reason why certain people prefer to view a room or a gathering from this perspective. Why they will station themselves in a position where their back is secure and they have full view of the action. I don't remember which neurosis that was attributed to, but I distinctly remember they forgot to mention "surviving in the bush".

Musta been a pre-Nam publication.

I look at the paradox sitting across the table from me and wonder who he would be now if he had never experienced Vietnam. He would still have that unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but what would he have done with it? How would he have used it? Would he have looked inside himself as deeply as he has, searching, ever searching, for meaningless answers to age-old questions?

Yes, meaningless answers. Because having the answer does nothing to diminish the pain.

Sure, it's cool to know why something happened as it did. It's cool to find a truth you can accept. In my own search for the meaning of life (42), this is the one answer that really blew me away: All answers are meaningless because they are not an anesthetic for our wounds. They do nothing to eradicate the scars. They are but a bandage we wear to reassure ourselves we are healing.

Six is answering one of my zillion questions. I can sit and listen to him talk for hours. There is so much information in that head of his that watching the wheels go 'round is an awesome sight to behold. He gives me all the information I need. Sometimes this means that he must divagate from the main subject in order to provide background information. Then that divagates somewhere else. But he always remembers where he's going and eventually comes back, full circle. Voila! I have it all.

As we talk, time and time again we find ourselves back in Vietnam. I am very interested in hearing about it and he knows that. Finally ... someone who will talk to me about Vietnam! It is a gift from the gods. Not only will he talk to me about it but he will help me experience it as much as he can.

And for him, I hope it is also an opportunity. An opportunity to talk about it and know he has an audience. Know that someone is hanging on every word in search of deeper understanding. Looking for those meaningless answers to the big burning questions.

And then it comes to me.

The only answer that has any relevance at all is the answer that embodies Rollingthunder6. He *is* the answer ... who he is and what he has become because of that experience. He has often said that Vietnam is his "hair shirt and badge of honor". It is also the filter through which he views the world. His dreamcatcher. His faithful companion. It is the pillow on which he rests his head at night.

For Six, and for all the other veterans who served in Southeast Asia, the Vietnam War will never be over.

So it will never be over for me, either.