Proceeds to benefit USO Wounded Warrior Family Centers

(Nashville, Tenn. – Aug. 31, 2011) Active-duty U.S. Marine and multi-genre artist Mike Corrado is raising public awareness for wounded service members with his latest single and video, titled “Still In The Fight.”

A nationally recognized singer-songwriter (featured on CNN, ABC, CBS and in Rolling Stone magazine) Corrado wrote “Still In The Fight” as a way to draw attention to the struggles many service men and women face after being wounded in combat.  Proceeds from the song benefit the USO’s Wounded Warrior Family Centers initiative.  Visit www.uso.org/woundedwarriors to donate or learn more.

U.S. Marine and musician Mike Corrado

The “Still In The Fight” video features Marines who were wounded in combat during recent tours in Afghanistan or Iraq; veteran Corporal Aaron Mankin, veteran Master Sergeant William “Spanky” Gibson and Lance Corporal Kyle Carpenter.  Also featured in the emotionally charged video is the artwork of Marines and combat illustrators Robert Bates and Michal Fay.  Gerard Elmore, who directed Corrado’s 2010 video, “Stand,” also directed “Still In The Fight,” due to be released in early September.

“‘Still In The Fight’ is dedicated to our wounded warriors, who have sacrificed so much for their country, and for their amazing strength, spirit and resilience,” says Corrado.  “Though they may be far from the battlefield, their fight for recovery continues.  For those ‘Still In The Fight,’ this is their fight song.”

“Still In The Fight” was produced by Noel Golden (Willie Nelson, Matchbox Twenty, Edwin McCain) and recorded at McCain’s Whitestone Studios in Greenville, S.C.  In 2010, Corrado released his Stand EP, earning the singer-songwriter critical acclaim and video placement on CMT.com, CMT Pure and American Forces Television Network.  The single, “Lucky One,” brought attention to the thousands of military veterans dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

During his musical career, Corrado has opened for artists including John Mayer, Bon Jovi, Train, Black Eyed Peas and Aaron Tippin.  His military-themed songs have received significant airplay in the Country, Pop and Rock formats.  Corrado received the Bronze Star for his military service in Fallujah, Iraq, as a result of his deployment following the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks.

Editor’s Note:  This is a tall tale that my Uncle Jack shared recently at his 81st birthday party, ostensibly in the form of a family confession; however, his sly grin betrayed a clear lack of any genuine contrition. . 

In 1945, his big brother, my dad, was involved in WWII. Jack, however, was still a restless 15 year old boy back home who managed to get into some fairly harmless mischief, as country boys that age are prone to do.

After these childhood shenanigans, Uncle Jack went on to serve as a distinguished state senator, and he was also quite successful in his law practice and many business ventures.

Probably the dumbest thing that we ever did had to do with watermelons. We liked watermelons, as most boys did, but we didn’t like hot watermelons – we liked cold watermelons.

There was a particular farmer who lived about three miles out of Carthage, Texas.  He was just next to the road there, and had what we believed to be the best watermelon patch in all of Panola County.  We found a place in the fence that was easy to get across, and we would just go get two watermelons.  We got two, not because we would eat them both, but because the man at the ice house had a deal that if we would bring him two hot ones he’d give us one cold one.

One night we went out there, and we had a flashlight so we could try to locate the two best watermelons. We were very careful – seriously – to not damage any of the vines or any of his crop.  We might have been thieves, but we were considerate thieves.

We’d try very carefully to pick out the two best melons.  The farmer, weary of being robbed by us, had placed a note on the fence where we’d typically go through that said, “One watermelon in this patch has been poisoned.”  We knew he was bluffing. So, we imagined his surprise when the next day he discovered the word “one” scratched out so that it now read, “Two watermelons have been poisoned.”  After that, we got watermelons from him on various occasions without any trouble.

Eventually, though, we got lazier.   Trucks filled with watermelons would come through Carthage, and there were two pretty good restaurants there.  The truck drivers would stop at those restaurants to get coffee and something to eat.  It was very simple for us to drive up behind one of these big bobtail trucks and pick a couple of watermelons off the top.

(Credit: Olathe Public Library & Johnson County Library)

They would be almost overflowing with watermelons.  Unfortunately, some of the other boys saw what we were doing, and they started doing it too, and that messed up our deal because the truckers realized they were losing watermelons there.  Two they wouldn’t miss.  Ten they would.  Our deal ran out when they quit stopping in Carthage.

1940 Dodge (Picture from autogallery.org.ru)

Well, we really wanted some watermelons one night.   It was Carl, Buddy Smith, and a girl named Earline Garner.  She and Carl dated some. We were in the 1940 model Dodge that daddy had.  The ’40 model Dodge had full running boards on either side. The bumpers were not integrated into the front and back of the car. They were just pieces of metal that were curved and stuck out on the front of the car.

We saw this truck starting toward Shreveport.  And we knew that it was heavily loaded, knew that when it got to the river hill – the steep hill immediately east of the Sabine River – that he’d have to slow down going up that hill.

So we struck upon this plan. I was driving. Carl got on the front bumper. Buddy got on the running board. Earline was in the back seat. Of course, all the windows were down. There was no air-conditioning at that point in time in cars. So at 15 years of age – I’d been driving five months, maybe – I drove up close enough behind the back of that big bobtail truck, that Carl, on the front bumper, could reach over the top of that fairly tall truck, and pick up a watermelon, and hand it back to Buddy on the running board, and he would hand it in to Earline on the back seat. We got two watermelons doing that.

If the engine of that truck had even coughed, the front of my car would have gone underneath the bed of the truck and Carl would have been cut half in two. But we got away with it.

Later on in the years, Carl and I talked about it, and we were both pretty frightened as to what we had done. Really probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I think Carl agreed with that.

“Hold that steady, partner. Don’t want me to lop a finger off do ya? I need you to concentrate. Pay attention to what you’re doin’, son.”

Charlie knitted his brow and stared at the board as though he was scolding it with his glare. He leaned on it hard to anchor it down.

He wanted Uncle Bob to understand just how seriously he was taking his instructions. There was no one in the world that he admired as much as Uncle Bob, and he so wanted to please him.

The power saw screeched on with a twang and then a roar. Uncle Bob carefully guided the board through the blade to make a perfect cut along a faint line he had sketched across it earlier with his pencil. The saw clunked to an instant stop when Uncle Bob cut the power. It’s blade rang out a final, soulful tone that lingered in the air for several moments.

Charlie savored every sound and smell, and every minute that rolled by when he was with his Uncle Bob.

“Yep! That’ll do. Good job, Charlie. You held ‘er real steady for me, bud.”

He knew that Uncle Bob didn’t really need his help. Uncle Bob cut wood for his carpentry projects all the time without anyone to hold the other end of anything for him. But Charlie was so glad to be a part, it didn’t matter.

‘Uncle’ Bob was not really his uncle. He was just an old friend of the family, so cherished by all that he was affectionately promoted to ‘Uncle’ by tribal consensus.

As they were clearing up the mess from their work, Charlie blurted out something that had been pushing on his heart for some time.

“Uncle Bob, I wish you were my dad.”

Uncle Bob’s busy hands stopped suddenly, and he turned to Charlie, almost as if startled.

After a pause, Uncle Bob walked over to him, and put his big hand behind his head and neck and pulled him into his side. Then he slid down to sit on one of his work stools so his face was closer to Charlie’s.

It was one of those flat, square wooden step stools that doubled as a tool box of sorts. So it was fairly close to ground. Still, he remained a head taller than Charlie.

“Well, I love you too, buddy, but why would you say that? You have a great daddy.”

Charlie swallowed hard, and looked at the dirt floor of Uncle Bob’s wood workin’ shed.

“He doesn’t have any time for me. He’s always too busy, and he get’s mad at me whenever I go in his office.” Charlie started to choke on his own words. “He never wants me around.”

Charlie’s eyes were suddenly red hot, and his own tears took him by surprise. He had convinced himself that he didn’t care, but now the hurt was about to bust out of him. He was embarrassed for a moment, then crumpled into Uncle Bob’s arms and sobbed.

For several minutes, Uncle Bob didn’t say a word. He just held him snug. When the energy of Charlie’s sobs diminished into stuttering whimpers, Uncle Bob began to console him in a low gentle tone.

“You know, Charlie. Your daddy loves you a ton, and …”

Charlie shot back, “No, he doesn’t!”

Uncle Bob waited for a moment.

Uncle Bob lifted him up so they were looking eye to eye. Charlie’s eyes were still so wet that he had to wipe each one with the heals of his wrists to be able to keep looking Uncle Bob in the eye.

“Say, buddy. Do you remember that terrible accident that happened near your school last month, when that sand truck hit that bus?”

He sniffled out a “Yes.”

“They had all them counselors and all talk with ya about how you kids felt about it. ‘Member that?”

“Yes.”

“Awful thing. Awful, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hate to bring it up again, but I want you to understand the difference between how your dad loves you and how I love you, and I want to use that bad event to make my point.”

“You feel your dad has no time for ya, and I know he’s very busy. He works hard to make sure you and your mama have food, and electricity, and clothes, and a bunch of stuff, maybe even a present or two at Christmas. He has to work hard when other people may want to get his job if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it for himself.”

“Now, I imagine when someone feels a whole lot of pressure like that, it can make ‘em a little grouchy sometimes, don’t you figure?”

This time the answer came slower, as he thought about Uncle Bob’s words.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Well, it sure can make a person cross. Now, here I am, retired. I don’t have to fight to just keep a job and feed my family. We don’t have a lot of money, but we have enough to get by on, and I’d guess that my stress is pretty low compared to your papa’s.”

“Well, he doesn’t EVER want me to be around.” The tears started to well up again.

“Now. Now. I’m sure that isn’t true, but I’m am also sure that it really does feel that way to you. So, I understand.”

He thought for a minute and asked, “Uncle Bob, what about the bus that got hit? Why did you say somethin’ about that?”

“Ah yes! Thanks. About that …

So, imagine for a minute that you, your dad, and I were all standing on the side walk right where that bus was. You followin’ me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. Now, do you remember how the sand truck came blazin’ through the intersection and T-Boned that bus, knockin’ it over on that unfortunate young man?”

“Yes.”

“Awful sad. Awful sad. That young fella lost his life at too young of an age, but I know he’s with God now, and in a better place. Let’s imagine an even more horrible thought for a second, that the bus fell over, and, God forbid, it fell on top of you. OK? I don’t want to scare ya, but I need you to just imagine if that happened for just a minute, OK?”

“OK.”

“Now, if your dad and I were both there, do you know what we’d do?”

“Nuh uh.”

“You wanna know?”

He nodded, and wiped his eyes again. He was listening with great interest now.

“Well, let’s start with me, and what I’d do.

I’d run, ruuuuunnnn over to where you were. I’d start rubbin’ your hair and kissin’ ya on the forehead, and tellin’ ya that you were going to be OK, and tellin’ ya to hang in there, and to not give up. I’d tell you all that even though secretly I was terrified that I was about to lose you, even though I knew you were about to go be with Jesus, even though I knew there was nothing I could really do to save you. I’d still frantically show you all the love I could while you were still alive to give you at least some small amount of comfort, to help you to not be afraid.”

He sat quietly and thought about Uncle Bob’s story.

Then he said, “What would my daddy do?”

“Ah, that’s the difference, right there, Charlie. That’s the difference.

You see, your daddy wouldn’t do the exact same thing I would. Do you know what he’d do?”

“What?” He sat up and looked up at Uncle Bob with intense interest. “What would daddy do?”

“Charlie.” Uncle Bob paused for a long time, then said, “Little buddy, your daddy would try to lift the bus.”

They sat silently for a moment.

“Not everyone shows love the same way. Some folks are all hugs and fun, it seems, but that doesn’t really mean they love you more than someone who’s quieter. Your daddy shows you how much he loves you as he works hard, day in and day out.”

“I get to be the ‘fun’ Uncle, but even though I might have kissed you on the head as the rest of you lay pinned under that bus, your daddy would have tried with all of his strength to lift that bus – a bus that weighed several tons, and even after all was lost and you had already gone to be with Jesus, people would have to pull him away because he’d never stop trying to lift it, because his Charlie was under that bus, and he loves that Charlie with all of his heart.

That’s the difference in how I show my love and how your daddy would and does show his love for you. It’s just different. Mine might feel better sometimes, but his is even more intense inside than mine could ever be, because you are his sweet boy. Understand me?”

He thought about Uncle Bob’s words for quite awhile. Finally, he stood up, and said, “I better get home, Uncle Bob.”

“OK, buddy. Thanks, for helping me with that board. I could’ve lopped my finger off if you hadn’t held it so straight for me.”

“See ya!” He bolted towards the old wooden door to Uncle Bob’s wood workin’ shed.

“See ya later, Charlie!”

He ran all the way home, blew in the front door, and went straight to his dad’s office.

He stood in the door way out of breath, staring at his dad who was lost in thought at his computer. He only half noticed his son huffing and puffing at his door. Finally, as Charlie’s presence became inescapable, he turned with a half grin and said, “Why are you so out of breath rooster?”

He ran over to his daddy threw his arms around him, and tucked his head down tightly against his dad’s shoulder. “I love you, daddy.”

His dad was a little taken aback by the sudden, mysterious display, but he pulled his arm out of Charlie’s hold and put it around Charlie. Pulling him into his chest, he gave him a squeeze, and said, “I love you, too, rooster. Now, git so I can get this report done. Your mom has supper ready for ya. Go wash up.”

Charlie let go. “Yes, sir.” He, turned and headed out as he had many times when dismissed from his dad’s office, but this time, it felt different. It felt very, very different.