The day hadn’t been anything special as he sat and filled out the warranty guarantee card for the weed-eater he just bought in a local lawn care store. Another day, another errand, he thought.

The salesman looked at the card. A rush of recognition, a wide smile and a hint of sadness flashed across his face.

“Oh wow, I used to know a Ron Clark back in high school. One of my best friends. Died fighting in Vietnam,” said the salesman.

“Yeah,” he said nodding his baseball-capped head. And with a simple smile he stated, “That was my dad.”

Ron K. Clark, 43, is the only son of Blackhorse Trooper PFC Ron E. Clark. Clark senior was 22 years old when he was killed in action on May 14, 1968 in Bin Duong Province, Vietnam and is buried in Indianola, Iowa. He died three months before his only son was born. Clark’s name is located on panel 60E line 009 of the Vietnam Wall in Washington, D.C.

Ron didn’t know too much about his father and his family didn’t talk much about him. His mother remarried when Ron was a year old. It wasn’t until he was well into adulthood that people began to open up to him about his father.

“They’d tell me I have the same personality. That I’m quiet and laid back just like he was,” he said.

Gerry Costa served with Ron’s father in A-Troop. They were friends and even shared a birthday. Costa frequently writes memorials on the Virtual Vietnam Wall to his fallen friend. One entry from May 15, 2001 states: “[sic] Hello again my friend. Just wanted to let you know that after all these you are not forgotten. I toasted you yesterday at 4pm just like every year. I will never forget you or the time we spent in Nam. I am very, very sorry I could not have protected you better and kept you from harms way. Allons always.”

Costa visited the Clarks in Iowa in 2003. They went to the grave site and placed a Blackhorse patch on the headstone. Ron could sense the visit was a part of a real healing process for Costa and chose not to bring up many battle memories. “I know Gerry carries a lot of Vietnam on him,” Ron said. Even though they didn’t talk much about the war, Ron didn’t mind. “He’s a good man, and I’ve made a dear friend.”

Having met Costa, Ron was invigorated and motivated to learn more about his father, the Blackhorse regiment and, most importantly, attend a reunion.

The Blackhorse 11th Armored Cavalry Veterans of Vietnam and Cambodia is a non-profit corporation that aims to honor those that fought and died during Vietnam. They were founded in 1985 and began having annual reunions in 1986.  In 2006 Operation Embrace was formed. Operation Embrace strives to locate, notify and welcome the family members of the men killed-in-action to the reunion. This year, Ron was just one of the 11 family members of KIAs that came and joined the 1,063 people, which included surviving soldiers and their families, at the August reunion in St. Louis, Missouri. Some of the men he met included Edward Brown Jr. and James “Jim” Sowinski, men that served with his father.

Retired SSG Edward Brown Jr. served with A-Troop from 1967-1968 and had been in touch with Ron through Costa for about four years. They had spoken on the phone and thru Facebook but had never met face-to-face. Brown was nervous and delighted when he was informed Ron would attend the reunion.

“I know he wants to know more details of the day his dad was hit. It’s hard, reliving that— And to share that with him,” Brown said with a heavy sigh. “But I will.”

Brown recounted Ron E. Clark falling into him during the fight. Clark took a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. “His death was fast and his survivors should know he didn’t suffer (alone).” Brown said. “I looked into his eyes as he died.” While Clark died during that fight, many were injured including Brown. The blast perforated his eardrums and he received injuries on his right side, with wounds in his shoulder, chest, liver, hip and leg. Brown’s recovery included 14 surgeries and a skin graft that took nearly three years in the hospital to recover.

“I owe Young Clark and his family. To answer any questions if I can, and to let them know he did not die alone.” Brown said. “God left me here for a reason. It’s my responsibility to share that Clark died a hero. He had a cause.” For his ultimate sacrifice Clark was awarded a Bronze Star with Merit, a Purple Heart, National Defense, Vietnam Service and Vietnam Campaign medals.

“I always wanted to know if there was something significant on the day my father died. But I learned it was a typical day in Vietnam. Sometimes people died and sometimes they didn’t,” Ron said.

The Army was hit hard in 1968 reaching more than 10,500 deaths that year, according to statistics founds on The Wall-USA.com, which is a 15 year old website dedicated to honoring those who died in the Vietnam War. Like a weighted backpack, many survivors carry the Vietnam experience with them in the form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Although PTSD is often associated with Vietnam veterans, it appears in veterans of all wars and eras. Once known as Battle Fatigue and Shell Shock, PTSD symptoms may include intrusive thoughts, distressing dreams, flashbacks and irritability. It can also mean a reduced ability to concentrate, experience pleasure, feel tender emotions or imagine a positive future. Many vets are finding support when learning to cope with their Vietnam experiences. During the reunion psychologist Dr. Candace Drake and daughter of a Blackhorse trooper, Dennis Drake (HHT 3/11), hosted a veteran’s seminar explaining PTSD and the options available for veterans. Brown attends a fully packed weekly PTSD group at Audie Murphy VA Hospital in San Antonio, TX. “Meeting Young Clark has helped me with my guilt but I’m still sad Clark never met his son, but when I go back home, I’ll have a sigh of relief,” he said.

For about four days the fellowship is visible as stories flow in “The Bunker”.

In military terms the bunker is usually a reinforced concrete underground shelter. Here, at the reunion, it’s a place where the men embrace each other with the welcome they never received when they returned home from the

war decades ago. This is where they laugh and cry over memories, photos and have a beer or three. “I’d never thought I’d be sitting here laughing and having a beer with Clark’s boy,” Brown said with excitement. “Brown wasn’t the only one thrilled to meet “Young Clark;” James ‘Jim’ Sowinski

contributed to the shared memories of Ron’s father. “It’s good to meet Clark’s son! I got a clear picture of his dad. Sowinski said. “Everybody’s got a piece of something to give Young Clark.”

This is an exceptionally intense reunion of men who served in an unpopular war. There is a bond between them that defies race or religion. And the void that Vietnam left in the souls of vets grows smaller with each reunion, it is a place to remember and a place to heal.

“It’s important for me to be here. I know that Ed and Gerry have a lot of guilt. But I don’t look at it that way,” Ron said. “I’m glad my dad had good friends over there that were with him when he died. I’m here to thank those guys that were there with my dad.”

Ron still sees the salesman in the local lawn care store. He likes to talk with him about his dad. Ron said, “With the guys from Blackhorse, attending the reunion and the salesman, well, its just another thing that makes me feel a connection to him.”

-Elena Brown

Published in Thunder Run 4th Qtr, 2011

I’ve stared at you, my lovely daughter your sad eyes upon me or listen with just as much pain in my heart as the pain in your voice. Oh no was all I could say. I couldn’t believe it. And I am helpless — helpless to help her overcome her grief.

I know I am the cause of your attitude about men and relationships. I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent, but I could have been much better than what I was. I could go on and on about my parental mistakes, and how I damaged you. for my behavior during your growing up years, but I love you too much not to apologize for the pain I have caused you.

You are looking for the happily ever after — sometimes it shows up quickly, but we don’t believe we are worthy of such a good thing and we mess it up — and watch happiness walk away. Then we search again — and again — and again until we realize that we have to know ourselves before we can give ourselves to another.

Your pain is my pain. Your hurt is my hurt. Your tears are my tears. You are my daughter — I would give up my life for you. I could not live my life without you.

I can’t say don’t be sad — because that’s a really silly statement. What I will say is hang on and reflect, because life is fickled, but it straightens out and you will find joy and happiness.

Love ya bunches,

Mom

The kids in the cramped back room tapped their toes and snapped their fingers as the music flowed in, smooth as the liquor their parents drank in the lounge. The lucky ones who snuck in were so close to the stage they saw the tiny spheres of sweat glisten off Bill “Mr. Bojangles” Robinson or Nat King Cole. “We weren’t so much concerned about how much it cost to get in. All we were concerned with was how we could sneak in,” says George Morrison Jr. with a heavy laugh. “You had to at least try,” he says. “It was jazz at the Rossonian!”

Harlem, Philadelphia and Chicago are famous for their jazz cultures, but so too was Denver’s own Five Points, a staple of western jazz culture. During the roaring ’20s, the Great Depression and World War II, the neighborhood earned its title as the Harlem of the West, a must-stop for any jazz musician.

Historic joints, such as the Casino, Benny Hooper’s Ex-Serviceman’s Club and Lil’s After-Hours ran along Welton Street and jumped with the sounds of Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker and more.

The Points was the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow, a place to settle in and sip some (at times) legal hooch and listen as a canary on stage sang to the hypnotic beat of a skin tickler. The musical mash “” the sweet brutality of hopes and dreams, both achieved and dashed, and the freedom to let loose with heart and soul “” everything got played in the Points.

George Morrison Jr., 88, is the son of acclaimed jazz musician George Morrison. His dad was known for jazz but was a classically trained musician who performed for the Queen of England. But even that wasn’t enough to break the Denver Symphony’s racist hiring practices, which prohibited him from being able to play because of the color of his skin. “That was a challenge to my dad because you weren’t going to hold George Morrison down,” his son says.

Instead, Morrison Sr. created his own orchestra, the renowned George Morrison Orchestra with players such as Jimmy Lunceford, Andy Kirk and vocalist Hattie McDaniel. McDaniel later went on to become the first African American to win an Oscar for her role as Mammy in the movie Gone With the Wind.

The band’s foot-tapping, dance-demanding jazz helped the group win a recording contract with Columbia Records “” the first to go to a black band. While with the company, Morrison Sr. recommended another jazz band that included Paul Whiteman, a white Denver bandleader, whose career became legend.

Those days spurred many stories. “I remember, during Prohibition, my dad making some home brew in the basement. He was making some when Bill Robinson came by to stay at our house. There was this loud noise, a “˜boom’ and “˜pow,’ and Bill Robinson said, “˜Get down; they’re shooting at us! Somebody’s shooting, get down!’ But it turned out the small bottles of the home brew had exploded in the basement. My dad said, “˜Aww, that’s just the brew downstairs,’ says a giggling Morrison Jr.

Morrison Sr. gave up touring in the mid-1920s and remained in Denver, where he opened the Casino jazz club, worked as a bandleader and taught music at Whittier Elementary, Cole Junior High and Manual High schools. While many musical greats were called to the Mile High City to perform, they weren’t allowed to stay in hotels downtown because of their skin color. Instead, city residents, like Morrison Sr., welcomed them into their homes. Others stayed at the Rossonian hotel and jazz club.

The Unity of Music

Once considered the premier club between St. Louis and San Francisco, the Rossonian provided high-class entertainment during the jazz era. It sits silent now, anchored in the Five Points of today. The wedge of a building is at the intersection of 27th Street, Welton Street, 26th Avenue and Washington Street, which forms the historic points that define and name the neighborhood.

“Man, it had a small stage. If the band had a piano, they had to build a little platform for it,” says Charlie Burrell, 88. A master jazz bassist, Burrell made a sensational career as a classical musician with the Denver Symphony Orchestra, which hired him as its first black performer in 1949. He made $35 dollars a week and supplemented his income “” and repertoire “” with local performances at the Rossonian and other jazz halls. “For a $1 cover and 50-cent drinks, it was some good music. It’s even where the white folks came down to get their fix,” says Burrell.

Quentin Harrington owned the building and watched it become one of the most integrated places in the city. “I had white people standing out on Welton Street to get in the place. I could look around that room some nights and couldn’t see a black face in there,” he wrote in the book Growing Up Black in Denver, published in 1988, the year of his death.

The Rossonian, a National Historic Landmark, welcomed live music, from the scat of Ella Fitzgerald to Charlie Parker’s sax. When the lounge closed, the musicians headed down the block to keep the party going. “It was the after-hours joints like Lil’s and Benny Hooper’s that were really good,” says Burrell. “We’d play from two in the morning till dawn and sometimes later if it really got going.”

According to Burrell, people like Cedar Walton cut his chops with several great groups at Lil’s. “I remember playing with Charlie Parker. This was during the time he was punching Judy [using heroin]. He got up there, sat on the stool and went to sleep. We never stopped playing. It was loud, and he just sat up there asleep,” he says.

So Black and Blue

In the 1920s and ’30s, open segregation and racism ran feverishly throughout America with the Ku Klux Klan at the helm. Blacks in the Points rarely ventured any further than California Street to the north, 22nd Street to the south and High Street on the east. Anywhere else was dangerous, and Five Points became a haven born of necessity as a black bastion against hatred.

The neighborhood had a department store, the Roxy movie theater, restaurants, a fire station, a dentist’s office and even its own post office. It was a city within a city. Look closely, and you can still see it.

Many of the buildings still stand today. The US Bank at 27th Avenue and Welton was once Five Points’ Atlas Drug Store. “We had everything we ever needed right there in the neighborhood,” says Morrison Jr.

If anything, the hatred and necessary fortressing of Five Points strengthened the community. The neighborhood’s black businesses prospered as the African American population grew from 6,000 to more than 7,500 between 1920 and 1940.

“There was the YMCA, and that kept a lot of us off the streets and out of trouble,” says Morrison Jr. The Phyllis Wheatly Colored YWCA became an official national branch in 1920 and operated as a residence hall, employment bureau and youth camp. The Glenarm branch of the YMCA focused on social and cultural life in the community, and it was considered by most the town hall, which hosted multiple meetings on the rise of the Ku Klux Klan.

The Points was often the target of the Klan, which had a foothold in Colorado and was highly active until the 1950s, at one time boasting 50,000 members “” one of the highest memberships in the country. They were everywhere, including the government. During the 1924 elections, the Klan gained control by electing an open Klan member, Clarence Morley, as governor. The KKK became one of the largest organized political forces in the state with help from people such as Benjamin Stapleton, mayor of Denver from 1923 to 1931 and again from 1935 to 1947. After the Klan helped push him into office, he named Klan member William Candlish as police chief.

“I never saw the Klan, but we knew they were around,” Morrison Jr. says, recalling stories of when the family home was being built. “Three different times they burned crosses to stop the construction,” he says. The Morrison family property on Gilpin still stands today.

But a few buildings weren’t so lucky. They’ve been toppled by the wrecking ball, making way for gentrification, which has literally changed the face of the community.

Five Points’ rich history would have been forgotten if not for a long list of local musicians and developers and civic efforts such as the Blair-Caldwell African American Research Library, located in Five Points, which houses a growing collection of research materials related to African Americans in the west.

Determined not to let the Rossonian fade away, the latest modern-day Lazarus, the Denver-based, minority-owned Civil Technologies is at the forefront of Five Points’ revitalization. “Jazz is an American original art form with great cultural history,” says Civil Technologies developer and Denver native Carl Bourgeois. “It’s important that these places are protected and preserved for their past and future. I’m trying to honor that.”

“I had a fantastic childhood in Five Points. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world,” says Morrison Jr. “It’s sorta sad to see Five Points decline, and I miss the way it used to look, but it’s coming back. So watch out for the rebirth of the Points.”

Charlie Burrell and George Morrison Jr. jam and recall the Denver jazz scene.

(published Denver Magazine, 2009)

When flying, at best you’re clueless; at worst you’re an ass. But not to worry—we’re here to share a few things that will keep your flight attendant from going all Steven Slater on a mo-fo. And yes, it’s flight attendant not stewardess—And, since you’re clearly unaware, it’s also a new millennium. (Incidentally, I don’t get why anyone would want to piss off the people that could save your life in the event of an emergency 35,000 feet in the air.) So, take notes, stop being an ass and happy travels.

1. Don’t be the clog in the artery of boarding.
In those three hours you’ve been tooling around in the airport it never dawned on you to get your scarf, books and magazines and other various items to keep you amused. And must you do that in the aisle upon boarding? Get out a few things, not 14 different items for an hour-long flight BEFORE you board and make it to your seat. Let’s keep it moving, people! There are people behind you, sheesh!

2. Pay attention to the demo (and other announcements for that matter).
Now that you’ve settled in your seat, you’ve lost the ability to comprehend things like ‘Please pay attention to the safety demo’, ‘fasten you seatbelt’, ‘turn off all electronics’ or the words ‘under the seat in front of you’. If you gave a three-minute speech about safety and people ignored you, you’d be upset. Stop being a hypocritical jerk and pay attention, or else.

3. Don’t let your kids run amuck.
Your parental duties do not stop now that you’re on a plane. Don’t change your kids diaper in front of or on the flight attendant jump seat, and for that matter, don’t change them on the tray-table. Flight Attendants are not your insta-babysitter, because the game they play isn’t nice (remember this?) Or how about this game? It’s called, ‘Let’s kick a kid in the clavicle with the heels I’ve been wearing for the past 13 hours’. No need for instructions, they’ll catch on quickly.

4. Keep your stuff out of the aisle.
You know drinks are coming, and if you’re lucky, food! And how do you propose this is done? Enter flight attendants in the aisle. If you don’t want to get hit by a cart, then get your legs, elbows or head out of the way. Plus do you really want to be responsible for tripping up a flight attendant as they walk down the aisle because of your bag strap?

5. Handle your body.
Your immune system senses something harmful and antibodies like proimmunoglobulin E (IgE) are released. IgE trigger the release of the body’s chemicals like histamine. The release of histamine can affect a person’s respiratory system, gastrointestinal tract, skin, and cardiovascular system. That’s the background of your allergy. If you can’t take things like nuts, milk or even if you morally object to pork, then bring your own food. Don’t expect the flight attendant to handle or magically know your dietary needs. This also applies to all medical conditions; we’re talking to you Diabetics that checked your insulin “in the other bag.”

6. No vague drink requests.
You wouldn’t walk into a coffee shop and say “I’d like a coffee’ when you want it black, with cream or sugar so why would you say it on a plane? Despite their majestic aura, flight attendants are not clairvoyant nor do they like to repeat, “How do you take it?” 221 times.

7. Know how to use a bathroom.
Not being able to handle the operations of going to the bathroom. Couldn’t be simpler, could it? 1.‘Push’. 2. Lock the door 3. Don’t be all shocked if your feet are wet when you went in there without shoes.

The man whose picture sits in a frame on her china cabinet.

The tall man with the piercing blue eyes, similar to his own.

The man who was his father.

“I used to sneak around the house and look at the old photo albums and newspaper articles that my mom had,” he said. “I’ve always been wondering just who my dad was.”

Sgt. 1st Class Alfred McCullough was killed in Vietnam when Mike was 1 year old.

“I wonder how I would have turned out had he been around,” Mike McCullough said.

After his father’s death, his mother moved the family from Germany to Colorado Springs, never remarrying.

Mike McCullough was 37 when he started going on the Internet to search for information about his father. Now 40, the Pikes Peak Community College employee hit pay dirt over the weekend after he and his mother were invited to attend a reunion of his father’s unit in Louisville.

Silver-haired men gathered around a table to meet and share their 40-year-old memories and thoughts about “Sgt. Mac.”

Alfred McCullough served in the Army for 12 years and was 33 when he was killed by small-arms fire in Binh Tuy, South Vietnam.

He is buried at Fort Riley in Kansas.

He left behind five children; Mike is the youngest.

“I knew right off the bat that was Sgt. Mac’s kid when I looked in those blue eyes,” Ron Betz said. Alfred McCullough “was a tall quiet man with a thick reddish mustache. I remember he died in the morning. We lost three men that day.”

Retired Sgt. Edward Brown Jr. added, “He was a gentleman’s soldier. He brought his point across in a smooth way. He was a real good man that took good care of us.”

Both men served under Alfred McCullough in Blackhorse 11th Armored Cavalry A-Troop in Vietnam from 1967 to 1968.

The McCulloughs were contacted by the Blackhorse 11th Armored Cavalry Veterans of Vietnam and Cambodia this year.

The organization aims to honor those who fought and died during Vietnam. It formed Operation Embrace last year to locate, notify and welcome the families of men who died into the “Band of Brothers,” said Charles Schmidt, president of the organization.

Mike and his mother, Johanna, represented one of about 60 families that attended alongside the 1,500 members in Louisville over the weekend.

Johanna McCullough, 72, brought military photos and newspaper articles to the reunion, including an article about her receiving her husband’s Silver Star for service in combat.

“There are more photos I can bring next year” when the unit will reunite again in Chicago, she said.

“When I saw ‘McCullough’ on the name tag I thought, ‘That’s Sgt. Mac’s boy!’ and gave him a big hug,” said Jack Morrison, 59. “I didn’t cry, but I was close.”

“McCullough was my platoon sergeant,” Morrison said. “My memory is not what it used to be, but I told him (Mike) what I could about his father.”

It was far more than Mike McCullough had known before going to Kentucky.

“I do wish there was more discussion about my father when I was younger, but I’ve discovered it’s never too late to learn about your family,” he said.

Mother and son said the weekend brought them closer.

“It’s so nice to know our family was not forgotten,” she said.

Mike said all he wanted was to get a bit of information about his father.

“And now, through these men, I have a stronger bond to him,” he said.

(Published in the Colorado Springs newspaper, The Gazette on September 10, 2007)

Please stop using ‘studio’ and ‘1-bedroom’ interchangeably. And while we’re at it, the word “spans” should never precede the measurements 387square-feet.

Seriously.

-Signed,

Frustrated Flat-seeker.

by Elena Brown – The metropolitan Richard Castaldo describes how he was paralyzed in April 20, 1999 Columbine shootings. The Metro sophomore is currently pursuing a business degree.

He’ll be 22 this week. Celebrating a birthday — according to the medical odds — that should not have been. With eight gunshot wounds, he made it through alive.

But something is missing. There’s a void.

“They keep saying this all happened for a purpose,” he said tapping on the legs he can’t feel anymore, “but I’m still waiting for that purpose.”

Wounds meant to kill are now plainly visible on Richard Castaldo.

The Metro sophomore is paralyzed from the chest down, and as he wheels around the Auraria campus, he ponders on the vote scheduled for Sept. 17, a day before his birthday.

The Auraria Board will vote on whether to allow concealed weapons — including the 9mm pistol, they type of gun he was shot with — on campus. The new Colorado gun law allows people with a certified handgun or concealed weapons permit to carry their registered weapon anywhere in the state, including school campuses.

The basic qualifications for the permit include a minimum age requirement of 21, a $152.50 processing fee and a background check. Over 60 percent of Metro’s more than 20,000 student population, including Castaldo, meet the basic qualifications to get the permit.

“I don’t think I need a gun,” he said.

Richard Castaldo is a Columbine survivor and the whole issue makes him a little bit uneasy. He didn’t exactly expect to survive one of the deadliest school shootings in history only to enroll into a college that allows concealed weapons.

“It would be kinda freaky. I don’t know if I’d stop going here; it’s hard to say, but I can’t think of a reason why you would need a gun on campus,” he said.

Castaldo has no qualms about finding an officer and reporting a weapon, even if the Auraria Board upholds the Colorado law. “Not reporting it is just not something worth taking a chance on,” he said.

Chief of Police Heather Coogan agrees. “If someone is on campus with a gun, we want to know about it. Do not approach the person; call us.”

There has already been an arrest on campus of a CCD student who had an outstanding warrant and was carrying a weapon.

Castaldo remembers the incident at Columbine and that there was no time to react. There was a gun, and in an instant he was on the ground with 9mm bullet holes in his arm, chest, back and abdomen. He was one of the first people shot and the last Columbine survivor to leave the hospital.

“(After all of that) I still don’t think I need my own gun,” Castaldo said.

Castaldo took a semester off after the April 1999 shooting, but later went on to graduate from Columbine High School. Castaldo was only a junior when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold held an entire school under siege and had the attention of the world as they began shooting people. Ultimately, they would kill 12 students and one teacher before turning the guns on themselves.

Castaldo says most people ask the usual things: Did he know them? Where were you? Why did they do it?

“And this gets kinda old,” he says, “Answering that stuff is not fun to do.”

But, he answers them anyway: Castaldo vaguely knew Harris and Klebold. He was just beginning lunch with Rachael Scott when they were shot. She died. And he has no idea why they did what they did.

“I guess they were pissed off, but I don’t know. I didn’t have any beef with them. I just got in their way, I guess,” he said.

Castaldo became a favorite of the Denver press in the months after Columbine. Being in the hospital for four months, undergoing seven surgeries and physical therapy allowed him and his family to be under a constant bombardment of interview requests from local and national media, including filmmaker Michael Moore.

Castaldo and Mark Taylor, another Columbine student, were enlisted by Moore for his Oscar-winning documentary, “Bowling for Columbine.”

It had been reported that Harris and Klebold bought some of their bullets from a local K-Mart.

At the time, K-Mart did not restrict the amount of ammunition a person could buy.

The only restriction was the age requirement of 18. Moore, the students and the media went to K-Mart’s headquarters to ask the retailer to stop selling handgun ammunition.

K-Mart buckled under the pressure and discontinued the sale of handgun ammunition in all of its stores.

“That was pretty surprising; we didn’t expect that,” said Castaldo, “What you see in the movie is a genuine reaction of surprise.”

“Bowling for Columbine” has recently been released on VHS and DVD and ranks in the top 20 in video rental. People are noticing Castaldo aging, he said with a flash of a smile for this victory, yet as quickly as the smile appears, it fades. “I’m proud of all that, it’s just lonely sometimes.”

The notoriety comes in a dull lull for him. Mostly, people refer to him as “That Columbine Kid,” but since the movie, “I’ve been called by my actual name.” And he’s quite drained from the pity-party people regularly throw when seeing him or hearing his story. “I just don’t know what to say when people tell me they’re sorry for me. So I just say, ‘Thanks.’ ”

But he is appreciative. And he’s thankful to the two members of Denver’s S.W.A.T team for his rescue. It was over 45 minutes from the time he was shot to the time he was rescued. “I remember laying there, wondering if anyone was coming to help,” he said. “It’s kinda weird now, but the most pain came from my back. There was a sharp rock just piercing my back and I didn’t have the strength to move.”

“Getting shot hurts,” he said. He still has one bullet left inside by the doctors. “It was too dangerous to move.”

The five-year anniversary of the Columbine tragedy is April 20, 2004, but Castaldo says he has no plans, “I don’t even have plans for my birthday (Sept. 18), let alone something seven months from now,” he said while running his hands trough his long and thick curly black hair.

Castaldo’s hands are the busiest part of him these days. He continues his love of music and plays the saxophone and keyboards, and is helping with the music for a friend’s documentary. He drives a wheelchair-ready van and lives alone near Denver University. He even got his nose pierced a few months ago, and is thinking about getting a tattoo.

Castaldo is trying to get on with his life, but the memories of Columbine do not stray too far from his mind.

He tends to drift off and return to that day when something sparks a flash of memory, like the “Bowling for Columbine” movie or another school shooting in the news. And sometimes the U.S. and Iraq conflict adds to a growing dismal view of the world. “The war is in the same pool of fucked-upness.”

Still, he’s not ready to wash his hands of humanity. He admits his view of the world is bleak, which is why he got involved with the PeaceJam origination. Long before the Columbine attacks, Castaldo was reaching out to others about the evils of violence. He recently lent his wisdom of living and surviving in such a violent world to the PeaceJam documentary by recounting how violence has affected his life. The Denver-based organization is aimed at high school students to inspire global peaceful awareness and community activity. They offer workshops on suicide prevention, non-violent tactics and communication skills with the help of Nobel Prize winners.

Castaldo once met the Dalai Lama at a PeaceJam conference.

Castaldo isn’t mad at his life; he is coming to terms with it. The life of the slight teenage boy eating lunch was forever changed. And now the wheelchair-bound boy is becoming a man. “It’s funny,” he said with a pause. ”I used to really like to bowl. Now, I’m just confused about God’s plan.”

—Elena Brown

1. Grocery Bag

Um, Duh. Don’t be ‘That Guy’ who’s still using plastic bags at the grocery/department store. If it makes it any easier, keep an extra one in your car so you can always have it handy.

2. Bike Inner Tubes

Easy and instant bungee when securing things. Cut them down the middle, length-wise, and use it to tie down just about anything. Get a clip from the cool company, IT Clip.

3. Dryer Lint

Just when you thought it couldn’t be used, turns out you can use dryer lint. Use it in, compost, as a fire starter for the fireplace, spin it like wool or make it into clay. FYI: This stuff can be highly flammable and it is not to be used for stuffing toys.

4. Crayons and Jars

Make a candle. Just melt the crayons in a jar, insert a wick (about one-half exposed), then let cool. Use a Popsicle stick to create that swirled effect. Instant Candle!

5. DIY Sprinkler

Release your inner MacGyver and make your own lawn sprinkler with a 20-ounce plastic bottle with cap, 15 used ball point pins, male hose attachment, plumbing contact adhesive and sealant and a drill. Gotta see it to believe it.

6. Windows as Picture Frames

Such a cool bit of art with something you had planned to just toss aside. Wonderful Colorado artist, Alisa Mokler Harper, of Iris Photo Agency has the right idea.

7. Melted Wine Bottles

Don’t even pretend you don’t have plenty of bottles lying about. Put them to use by recycling them properly or having them pressed flat to make a fab cheese, fruit or appetizer platter. Takes a good 13 hours in a kiln (you have one of those right?) Or you can order online.

8. Buy Items Made from Recycled Plastics

Just make the extra effort to buy recyclable items. Recycled soda bottles, shampoo containers, and other plastics are being made into everything from pens to coats, carpet, and speakers. How cool is that!

—E. Brown

The monsters of “why” and “what ifs” have been stomping around my head with steel stilettos on a hardwood floor since Sunday, when I found out my transfer into London had been accepted. The fact I had it in shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, but it was. See, I’ve had that transfer in for half a year.  London is and was closed to new transfers and then BLAMMO! 50 people get their transfers last week. Shit. I’ve been cozy in Colorado my whole life. Can I really make this move?

Well, in sans of flipping a coin; let’s make a list:

What about school, with less than a year left, do I want to put it off even further? However, I can take a few classes online.

What about my place I live? Well, I’ve not signed a lease, so I can get out of here in a month.

What about money? Now, that’s tough. The money my God-father left me when he died has yet to be spent and I’m getting a healthy check from Uncle Sam.

The cat? Seems London has lifted its archaic and brutal ban on a six-month quarantining of animals and now with some hoops to jump thru one can bring them over.

Leaving Mom? Her health, aside from the brain tumor is good. The doc says its not cancer and hasn’t grown since discovered last year. She’s not hurting from it.

If I can’t make it, will I be the loser that had to come back?

No answer for that one.

And now let’s hear from the trusted Coalition:

Kyle: Ur mom i understand…but if i recall this has been a small dream for a while….its now here in front of you..walk thru the dorr and take a chance….you’ll take a chance for a guy in a relationship…now take one for you.

Melinda: shit always goes south but you deal with it. the worst that could happen is you become homeless and have to suck dick for coke…but honestly I don’t see that happening.

Kathy: I can’t believe you are still thinking about it! You may never get this chance again!

Alana: Juuust do it!

Becky: Do not miss out on the wonderful experience. You can come back in 6 months….Denver will be here and so will all of us.

Ria: Sack up and make your move woman!

Tuwanna: Take it! You should not have put it in if you are questioning it! I am just saying!

April: I’m gonna miss my CO buddy, but you should definitely go!

Jenn LeBlanc: You are amazing, and therefore been presented with an amazing opportunity. And just like I pushed Matt Gunn off the cliff I’m right behind you.

Matt Gunn: Few get the opportunity to keep their job and move overseas. You need to give it a try. Colorado’s not going anywhere.

So, Elena….Its on you. What will you decide? Is it time to hop the pond?