Timothy Mott, Sr.:  

This is an update from August 15th… *************************************************** I am living the life of Doonesbury, but not that of Michael, but of his uncle, who navigates through a life of conscience-altering drugs surrounded by a life of hedonism and decadence. And it all is owed to the July approval of 100% VA disability, 70% alone of which is for PTSD suffered from the early 1980’s while on active duty with the U.S. Army. Five other disabling ratings are autoimmune diseases which arose from PFA’s (polyfloural alkyls, so-called “forever chemicals”), along with spinal issues and ubiquitous hypertension of the worst kind. PFA’s areoften found in firefighting chemicals, and I was not just a volunteer firefighter for Engine Company 17 in Centreville, Virginia for three years, but I also carried an SMOS (secondary military occupational specialty) of firefighter in the U.S. Army for fourteen additional years. Coincidence? Three separate autoimmune diseases? But just as important to me, maybe even more than the monetary value of that determination, is that the VA decision finally vindicates a FOUR DECADES-long fight for disability compensation for PTSD. My entire family (mother, stepfather, sisters, wives, and two children) disowned me because of that disorder. Now it is far too late to salvage those relationships, and my heart especially breaks because of my children’s rejection of me. They do not understand how PTSD can absolutely devastate a person, and cultural isolation makes this much worse. There is NO way to make me whole after that — a direct consequence of the damage suffered in service to our country. The VA benefits do not remove my insomnia, nightmares, depression, social anxiety, autoimmune disorders, or chronic pain, but it will make it easier for me to survive financially in my later years, and then maybe I can try to make peace with what I’ve done, and what I’ve experienced. I have been working hard with my VA medical team treating my PTSD in particular. So while my current blessings are very recent, the true story goes back a long ways. And two threads weave this tapestry — an international, cosmopolitan life, yet always seeming to ultimately revolve around the State of Virginia. Together, these experiences wrote my life’s story… I’ve lived in 17 states (three of them more than once) and overseas for nine years in Bangkok, Thailand, the German Alps (twice, for six years), Central America, and the Caribbean, with shorter military deployments in other nations. Of those other nations either lived in or visited — 56 of them in total with 8 of them visited more than a dozen times each, my favorite ones to live in were Jamaica, Italy, and Thailand. Portugal and Spain were also particularly pleasant. I also loved Greece, but having already lived through one devastating earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands of Europeans in 1973 I’m a little adverse to living there now. I also loved southern France, but I disliked the people in Paris & northern France, who consistently and arrogantly despise Americans. (If you go there, pose as a Canadian)! I absolutely love a life of international travel, accompanied by cultural immersion and language studies. While I am in law a legal citizen of these United States, I see myself first and foremost as a citizen of the world. And in that regard, I consider myself to be fortunate. I have lived a life that evades most. My story much revolves around the State of Virginia. It is where I’ve lived seven different times, years at a time, following my father’s military career — who was a highly-decorated Sergeant-Major (with six years of combat experience) in the Army’s Intelligence & Security Command at Vint Hills Station, along with my own fourteen-year military career (followed by five years as a military contractor). What follows is a story not necessarily related in temporal terms… For example, between 1982-1985, after three advanced Army schools (over a year long) and followed by a two-year tour at the 1st Armored Division Headquarters in Ansbach, Germany, I was stationed at the EOD (Explosives Ordnance Disposal) school at the Indian Head, MD Naval Station, since shut down because of the PFA groundwater contamination mentioned earlier, but I lived in, and commuted from, Arlington. My early years in Virginia go back to 1970, while my last jaunt was between 1997-2000 as one of four senior systems engineers for Lockheed Martin Space Systems in Manassas, the height of my professional civilian career. Virginia is where I moved to from Germany in 1976, when I was becoming assertive in my own personality after moving around the world so much. It is where my father was murdered in the line of duty in 1977, just three days before his scheduled retirement from the Army, (THE most devastating event of my life, when I was a sophomore at CHS). Where my beloved music teacher — Ms, Webb — took a special interest in me after my Dad’s death when few else would. Where she herself died in my junior year, taking a big piece of my heart with her. Where I threw myself into the Boy Scouts, went on to serve in every leadership position possible, and then was inducted into the “Order of the Arrow,” an exclusive organization reserved for exceptional Boy Scout leaders. Where I climbed mountains and repelled off of cliffs — once when high on PCP without a rope at all, just a “leap of faith” to a pine tree which broke my fall. (Yet here I am). Where I canoed, shot white water rapids, fished, hunted, camped, spelunked through caves, taught wilderness survival and other skills to hundreds of Boy Scouts (in both Virginia and Switzerland) during the summers, hiked fifty miles in two days with a backpack that outweighed me, repeatedly spent weeks enjoying the Appalachian trail, flew a glider, interacted with international Boy Scouts during annual jamborees, planned &;executed two Eagle Scout projects. and earned six one-mile swim awards consecutively on the same day, without a break out of the water. Where I swam competitively with many top-tier rankings in freestyle and the backstroke, and began my long journey through swim trials for the 1972 Olympics in Munich, Germany— where Palestinian terrorists financed by Libya’s Muammar Qaddafi massacred eleven Israeli Olympians. (We were spectators there the day before, and I deliberately came in as second-tier).. Where I soloed in the Concert Choir at all-state contests & in our yearly production of Handel’s “Messiah,” and further lettered in music. Where I furiously tripped on a four way hit of “window pane” acid during a terrific concert choir visit to Six Flags. Where I served in student government. Where I interned at an archaeological excavation site in Williamsburg. Where I could always find an interesting and friendly immigrant student at CHS to converse with, and to eagerly glean cultural and foreign language tips from them. Where there were frequent & challenging chess players to engage with. (Why doesn’t anyone play chess anymore)? Where I developed a love for biology, chemistry, history, languages, mathematics, and physics, Where I successfully navigated our school’s social environment between “the heads” and “the bookworms.” Where I developed strong concentration skills derived from the open classrooms structure of our school’s physical plant. Where I frequently fished for blues in the Chesapeake Bay. Where I was a volunteer firefighter at Engine Company #17 in Centreville. Where I frequented our nearby beaches, studied ecology in our wetlands, attended VMI, Averett College, & NOVA, and developed a passion for astrophysics. Where I had friends who loved me, mostly from “the fringe of society,” when my own family rejected me. Where I earned a second-degree black belt in Chang Moo Kwon Taekwando with instructor certification. Where I married a woman from Nebraska, in a 25-year marriage that she dissolved in 2007 because she couldn’t handle the effects of my PTSD, with the loss of my two children and my beloved farm in Missouri, with three dogs, eight cats, a registered llama, goats, 40 registered Dutch Belted cattle, 40 turkeys, 40 chickens, and a goose who laid enormously large and delicious eggs. Lush pastures from rotational grazing, a specialty orchard, a vineyard, over a mile of laboriously-blazed trails in my intensively-managed woodlot, with an expensive woodworking shop producing high-end cabinetry & furniture using quarter-sawn boards from my black walnut, cherry, red elm, and oak trees that I harvested from that woodlot, (and which fueled our wood stoves, the only heat sources that we used). With abundant and widely-diverse wildlife, three firearms ranges (my Remington 700 Police sniper rifle was zeroed at 600-meters), and a marijuana grow room with very potent South African Durban cloned from five seeds that I bought in Amsterdam three decades earlier. There were also magic mushroom beds and opium poppy gardens. “Mom, why does Dad spend so much time in the flower beds?” There were also many heartaches. Not just my father’s murder, but also the tragic death of my best friend who bled out in my arms after a motorcycle accident just weeks after my dad’s death. Another friend who barely survived an accident while on the way to pick me up for a late night musical practice.. Where I later spent two months at a military hospital and another two months at the VA hospital in Grand Island, Nebraska with a life-threatening condition that nearly ended my Army career, and life, for which I am now receiving a VA disability pension. I am now unattached — except for my two beloved cats, “Nissan” and “Celeste” (named after my daughter, who in turn was named after a CHS classmate that I had a secret crush on), and exceptionally oversexed for a sixty-year old man. I’m considering one final series of moves overseas, but un...Expand for more