Precerpt from Nothing So Broken (Richards) - hero
Coming Soon! Available now on pre-order! Nothing So Broken - war, memoir, more. Today we provide a precerpt (an excerpt from a book not yet published) -
-hero-
Long
before I understood anything about Phu Bai and Lyndon Johnson and the Viet Cong
there was York, Maine.
Our family made an annual
summer trip to the popular beach town with Aunt Jan and Cousin Rob. Each July, an
old, worn cottage, filled with mariner chachka and seagull figurines welcomed us
for a week of sun and surfing. We’d haul our towels, coolers, and inflatable
rafts a half mile to Long Sands with its icy cold waves and striking dark grey beach.
I forget where the sand came from.. At night, the kids slept on the pull-out
sofa in the living room in front of the small black-and-white TV. We’d drift
off to sleep with the ocean scent spilling in through the windows.
Some evenings my father would
drive us to the local amusement park for the rides, games, and video arcades. The
Ferris Wheel would fill the darkening sky with a towering ring of lights.
Children screamed as the roller coaster cars dove and roared along the creaky
metal frame. Bob Seger and John Cougar Mellencamp blared through staticky
speakers mounted on poles, and there were greasy pizza slices, Cokes, and an
outside chance at fried dough if we behaved.
One cloudy afternoon, we
decided to skip the beach and head straight for the amusement park. The place
was empty. No lines. No waiting. We could try anything we wanted.
We sprinted for the Rolling
Barrel, the preferred attraction for the older kids: middle schoolers and
teenagers. The large, slowly spinning cylinder sat right next to the Funhouse.
The teenagers always made it look easy, walking in place, as it rotated.
I ventured in first, cautiously. After a few
awkward steps, I had the hang of it, my feet matching the speed of the barrel.
Cousin Rob entered next. When the two of us were steady, my younger brother,
Bryant, joined us. The parents stood at the entryway, enjoying our enjoyment,
until somebody fell. I’m not sure who, but he tumbled into the two of us who
were still upright, and suddenly the rolling barrel was a clothes dryer with
three kids flopping around, smacking knees, shoulders, and elbows. Just as one
of us would start to regain our footing, someone else would fall into him.
Ow!
Ouch!
Ow!
Help!
The parents’ smiles
vanished.
“Larry!” my mother yelled,
and my father jumped into action.
He stepped into the barrel
and lifted Bry up with one arm but then stumbled. Rob might have taken out his
legs, I’m not sure, and down they went. For some reason, maybe for the ubiquitous
parking meters throughout town, my father had what sounded like thirty dollars’
worth of change in his pockets, and it emptied into the barrel. Nickels, dimes,
and quarters rained down on us as we flopped and flipped. I’d started crawling
to the other side when I felt a large foot give me a gentle push in the butt,
dumping me onto steady ground. I turned to see my father lying on his back, Bry
in his hands, Rob by his left hip, the barrel pulling all three and the mass of
coins up one side.
“Larry! Larry! Larry!” My
mother and Aunt Jan shouted.
My father somehow shimmied
on his backside to the bottom of the barrel and out the front with a kid in
each arm. Mom and Aunt Jan came around the side of the cylinder, flushed,
wiping at tears, still laughing. We were a little sore, but Bry and Rob were already
back at the edge of the barrel, trying to scoop up the money sliding around. My
mother gazed up at my father lovingly, eyes wet. Our hero! Just like the movies!
In the shadow of loss, a path to healing begins.
Chris Richards grew up in a small New England mill town, where life was tough and loyalty ran deep. At just 19, his world was shaken when a close friend was left permanently disabled by a devastating accident. At the same time, Chris’s father began to show troubling symptoms linked to his service in the Vietnam War—unseen wounds that would slowly unravel the man he once knew.
The weight of watching two people he loved unravel under the strain of trauma and physical decline left deep scars—ones Chris carried silently into adulthood. For years, he buried his grief and fear, never imagining that one day, facing his own crisis, he would turn to their stories for strength.
This powerful and moving memoir explores the enduring impact of trauma, the quiet power of resilience, and how even the most broken lives can become sources of inspiration. Born of hardship, shaped by loss, and redeemed through reflection, Chris’s story is a testament to the human spirit and the healing that can come from finally confronting the past.
Keywords:
New England memoir, Vietnam War legacy, trauma and healing memoir, coming-of-age true story, memoir about father and son, real-life story of resilience, personal story of grief and growth, emotional healing journey, memoir of small-town life, family trauma memoir, impact of war on families, veterans and PTSD family stories, intergenerational trauma, inspirational memoir about loss, adult child of a veteran, memoir set in a mill town, friendship and tragedy true story, memoir about overcoming fear and grief, how to heal from family trauma, memoir about growing up with a veteran parent, finding hope through personal crisis, true story of surviving emotional loss, lessons from a father's wartime wounds, memoir about friendship, trauma, and redemption
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