The 1980 movie “9-5” has long been one of my favorites.

I watched that movie every time it came on our pirated HBO when I was young. In that flick, I learned that Franklin Hart Jr., played by the great Dabney Coleman, was a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot.

To this day, that is one of my all-time favorite movie lines.

One day, I was home watching that movie when my dad came home. He walked into the front room and saw that Jane Fonda was on his television.

“Change the damn channel,” he said.

I was surprised by this demand. The movie also starred Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin. Who in their right mind doesn’t like Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin?

Plus, did I mention Dabney Coleman?

It didn’t matter. I was making an unwinnable argument. Jane Fonda was not to be seen on a television in our house.

When Jane sat next to her husband Ted Turner as the Braves lost World Series after World Series more than a decade later, there was no way you were cheering for Atlanta at our house.

My dad, you see, is an Army veteran. In 1967, he volunteered for the military draft.

He figured he was going be drafted someday soon because he was designated 1-A. His parents were not rich, and he was not exactly college material.

So, while many guys in his situation were trying to find a way out, my dad jumped to the front of the line to get in. There are so many amazing things about my dad. That he stepped up and did that just might top them all.

He didn’t have bone spurs like Donald Trump. He didn’t have bad knees like Joe Namath. He didn’t go skiing in the Alps like Sylvester Stallone. He didn’t have friends in high places like Bill Clinton.

Even if he did have such connections, he would have never used them to take the easy way out. That is why my dad has always been my hero.

After basic training, my dad had orders for Vietnam. But in January of 1968, those orders changed when the North Koreans captured the USS Pueblo, seizing the ship and its 83 crew members. Instead of going to Vietnam, my dad was sent for long stay in South Korea, near the Demilitarized Zone.

He did not serve in Vietnam, so Jane Fonda wasn’t directly talking about him when she attacked the brave men and women of the United State military fighting in the Vietnam War. He wasn’t even in the Army anymore when Jane visited North Korea in 1972.

But he still took it personally when the movie star, who rose to fame largely because her father was Henry Fonda, posed for photos while sitting on a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun.

He took it personally when Jane claimed that American prisoners of war were being treated kindly by the Vietnamese, saying that those who claimed they were tortured — like the great Sen. John McCain — were being fictitious.

He took it personally when Jane told Americans to greet soldiers when they returned home as “hypocrites and liars” instead of heroes.

Some wounds are just very hard to heal, and some words cannot be taken back.

My dad never had to walk through the jungles of Vietnam as his government dropped cancer-causing Agent Orange over his head, but he certainly felt the pain of a nation that did not appreciate his service.

Jane apologized later for her words and actions, but that apology fell mostly on deaf ears. No, she did not invent the hate and discontent for our soldiers in the Vietnam War. But she certainly fanned the flame of ignorance.

That was an awful time in American history. More than 58,000 young Americans — and many more Vietnamese — were killed in a war that still doesn’t make sense a half a century later.

During every American war from the Revolutionary War through the Korean War, our troops were welcomed home as heroes, as they should have been.

Today, our troops are welcomed home as heroes, as they should be. Anybody who puts him or herself in harm’s way to protect others is deserving of praise and thanks.

It doesn’t matter if you stormed the beaches of Normandy, took part in the Grenada invasion or served in Iraq or Afghanistan, you are a hero for signing up to defend this country

Our troops during the time of the Vietnam War, though, were treated like villains. They were sworn at and spit on. They were called “baby killers.”

The soldiers were taking the brunt of the blame for a politician’s war that most were not particularly fond of either.

That is why so many of the emotional wounds of the Vietnam War have never healed.

That is why the Wall That Heals is so important. Last week that wall, which is a three-quarter replica of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C., was proudly displayed at Father Sheehan Park in Butte.

The Wall was brought to town thanks to the hard work and determination of Sgt. Michael Taapken, a retired Marine who was too young to fight in Vietnam. He was the host of the Wall, which was visited by thousands of people over five days.

The Wall includes the names of all the American service men and women who were killed in the war. It is a daunting sight as you approach the wall and realize how many names are on each line and how many lines are on each panel of the wall that stretches more than 100 yards.

That wall includes the names of 22 men from Silver Bow County. Sanford Kim Archer was from Melrose. The other 21 were from Butte.

They are Ronald Gregory Babich, Kenneth Sandford Bercier, Robert William Cawley, Lester Allan Doan, Gregory Phillip Helsley, Greg Neal Henderson, Russell James E. Hevern, Raymond Dale Hoerner, Robert Edwin Holton, Daniel John Janhunen, Raymond George Kriskovich, Steven Patrick Murphy, Daniel John O’Neill, Joseph E. Parker Jr., Weston Henry Reece, Marvin Kent Robertson, Raymond Robertson Jr., Richard D. Satterthwaite, Dennis Wayne Sonsteng, Kenneth Peter West and Florian J. Zahn.

Six men on the wall are from Anaconda. They are David Anthony Anderson, Patrick Jay Fleming, Eugene Floyd McNally, Ronald John Moe, Wayland Dan Stembridge and Robert Joseph Thomas.

All of those were young men had their futures stolen from them in Vietnam.

I made three trips to Father Sheehan Park to look at those names on the wall because one trip was not nearly enough. I went with my dad two of those times, and we found some names of the men he knew.

That included Satterthwaite, a corporal in the Army. When in Korea, my dad opened a letter from his dad to learn that Satterthwaite, a fellow former St. Mary’s grade school student, was killed on March 19, 1969.

So many people found the names of their loved ones and scratched those names onto a piece of paper. Others left pictures, flags or flowers by their loved ones.

Someone left a photo of Kriskovich with a flag and a couple of hearts near where his name could be found on line No. 42 of panel 49W.

Kriskovich served in the Army. He died on Aug. 10, 1968.

The Wall That Heals is an appropriate name. While it was probably painful to see the name of a loved one on such a beautiful memorial, it had to help the healing process for those who did.

It also must have helped in the healing process for so many of the Vietnam veterans who stopped by to see the wall. No matter what time of day or night you stopped by the wall, you would find at least a handful of those veterans.

The five days that the Wall That Heals stood at Father Sheehan Park will go down as five great days in the history of the Mining City.

Time, they say, heals all wounds. That is not true. It takes more than time, and some of those wounds will never heal.

The soldier can never forget seeing his fellow soldiers die. He cannot forget being yelled at or spat upon when he came home.

The wall, though, had to help. At least we can hope it helped.

Hopefully, seeing that wall comforted the family and friends of the fallen soldiers. Hopefully it proved to them that they were not forgotten. Hopefully it showed the living Vietnam veterans that they really are loved and appreciated.

Seeing those names on the wall seemed to help my dad, even if just a little.

However, do not expect to see any Jane Fonda movie his television any time soon.

— Bill Foley, who was also told to turn the channel when “On Golden Pond” came on, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.