I am working with a group of veterans at the Center for Veterans Issues and National Association of Black Veterans in Milwaukee. Some are freshly returned from multiple deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan, others, like me, have been back from Vietnam since the late '60s or early '70s and still others have returned from diverse hotspots around the globe in the time between.

All are reeling from the experience. 

If you met them on the street, at a ballgame or a church potluck you might not notice the symptoms. Most of the time they look fine — sort of. Veterans understand that "coming home" doesn’t always happen all at once, an indeterminate period of readjustment is typical and the military experience is never forgotten.

When I came home from Vietnam, I rattled around Milwaukee for three months, working for a nursing pool on temporary assignments.  I got my nursing license in the Army. It came in handy, but I wasn’t connecting with anyone. In hindsight, I suspect I wanted my assignments to be "temporary" — no need to explain myself. 

Things changed when a Vietnam buddy called.

"I’m starting a band," he said. "I need you to come to New York, play piano and do the arranging."  I trundled off to the East Coast the following Friday — didn’t even have to think about it. 

The band got off to a shaky start and ended quickly when my buddy decided to get married. However, those left standing formed a new group and found an audience for our music in the Mid-Atlantic area. We setup shop in an old, rural Virginia farmhouse and kicked back there when we weren’t playing in Raleigh, Roanoke, Richmond, Virginia Beach and points beyond. 

But, I continued to feel rootless.

So, I planted a garden. 

The first one quickly became weed infested and buggy.  The band and I decided to go organic, but we didn’t know about mulching or other organic strategies to control weeds and pests.  The harvest was wimpy, but the tomatoes were outstanding. Even before the first snow fell that fall, I was already thinking how I could do it better next year.

In my experience, the first garden, and every one since, has represented a step on the road to emotional health. Gardening is the essence of optimism, an affirmation of and commitment to the future, an active step toward establishing control over a little plot of land and one's life. 

Plant a seed, help it sprout, nurture it along, fight back the encroaching jungle, harvest the crops, eat some, preserve some, give the rest to others. It is a very hopeful act.

Gardening is both simple and complex, requiring planning, perseverance, faith, cunning, vigilance, patience and good luck.  While it can be tremendously complicated, even a small child can find success.  Help them plant a row of radishes — then stand back.

Organic gardening is turning out to be a terrific tool for helping veterans (and perhaps others) find their way back home.  One of the central characteristics of combat is "loss of control."

In fact, in that area, the combat experience may rank second only to death. No doubt combat is "failure" on a massive scale. 

Gardening rewards control, particularly self-control — plus, it breeds success.

Even though I wouldn’t claim to be gardening expert, I find myself involved in a peer-to-peer mentoring program, working with veterans on organic gardening projects. In truth I’m just a guy who knows without doubt that gardening helps the healing process. 

If you would like to help, here is an idea:  You may have excess seeds or plant sets, unused garden tools, irrigation devices, old storm windows for cold frames, tomato cages, seed sprouting trays, etc.  A box labeled "Garden Mentoring Project," will be located at Java Dock, 116 W. Grand Ave., Port Washington, with a list of desired items. If you drop said items at Java Dock, I will deliver them to Vets Place Central on 33rd and Wells streets in Milwaukee.

All will be put to good use.