"I have been a lucky man all my life."
I could hardly believe my ears when I heard those words, spoken casually, without artifice, by Dan Murphy of Moorhead, Minn. On the one hand, you could look at Murphy's life and see good fortune: He and his wife raised five successful children, who in turn gave them 11 healthy grandchildren. He farmed for seven decades, keeping his tie to the land he loves. And, at 85, he is healthy, sharp and mobile.
On the other hand, the signs of bad luck are everywhere, beginning with his father's death at the height of the Depression and the family's struggle to save the farm. Murphy's toughest misfortune would have to have been getting shot down over Germany with just a few missions remaining in his World War II tour of duty. Starting with the pitchfork-wielding farmer, moving on to the winter march and boxcar transport to prison camps, and ending with two months of captivity before being liberated, that year could be called a tough one in Murphy's life.
But halfway through a Memorial Day presentation in St. Paul, Minn., Murphy said, "I have been a lucky man all my life."
Is luck more a matter of perspective than of fact? Murphy seems to believe it is both. To him, the fact that he wasn't captured earlier in the war or held in the more brutal Japanese prison camps are reasons to see himself as lucky.
Harold Kurvers, another veteran who participated in the presentation, had the experience Murphy was glad to miss: Captured by the Japanese in 1941, Kurvers was held as a slave laborer for nearly four years, after surviving the Bataan Death March and infamous "Hell Ships." Kurvers didn't speak of luck but of moving on with his life after the war.
By now you may be wondering what lessons these stories hold for a job search or a career transition. It would be too easy to say: They faced something worse than a layoff, so quit your complaining. Although that's not a bad lesson to take away.
Nor is this a story about plucky WWII vets and how they changed the world. I acknowledge that people in the 1940s faced incredible challenges, but making them into gods robs them of their humanity. It also presumes that people don't do incredible things now, and that isn't fair or true. Broad-stroke hero worship prevents us from seeing — and learning from — their successes and mistakes.
I come by this observation honestly. Early in my career, I was asked by a family friend to help write a book on the effects of captivity as a prisoner of war. The author, Guy Kelnhoffer, wanted to create a first-of-its-kind discussion on the challenges faced by ex-POWs upon their return to civilian life. In addition to essays on his own challenges in adjusting to "normal" life, the book included appendixes on topics such as the long-term medical effects of starvation and beatings and advice on improving benefits ratings from the Department of Veterans Affairs.
In the two years it took to research and promote this book, I met hundreds of ex-POWs and their spouses, mostly from World War II, as well as civilians who had been captives of enemy combatants.
And that is how I learned that they're no more amazing than you or me. Some of them are cheerful; some are cranky. All are tremendously burdened by what they endured. To imagine they aren't bitter is to deny common sense as well as the reality of their experiences.
The common thread I found among all of these people, which I found again in listening to Murphy and Curvers, is that they are all survivors — and not just by chance. They have made this choice to survive and to move forward with the lives they have. Murphy would say that luck plays a role, and both Murphy and Curvers credit God for pulling them through.
Luck, God, gumption — choose one or all three, but do choose to keep moving with your life. There's really no excuse not to.
• Book giveaway: At the author's request, remaining copies of the 1992 book "Life After Liberation: Understanding the Former Prisoner of War" are available free to veterans or other interested parties. To get a copy, send $5 for shipping to Amy Lindgren, 1071 W. Seventh St., St. Paul, MN 55102.
- Amy Lindgren owns Prototype Career Service, a career consulting firm in St. Paul, Minn. She can be reached at alindgren@prototypecare rservice.com or at 1071 W. Seventh St., St. Paul, MN 55102.