Page 26 - A Soldiers Exposition
P. 26

LIFE LEADING UP TO BECOMING A SOLDIER

               Move the clock and calendar forward…

               August 1967:

               I am:

                       -   One-month shy of my nineteenth birthday
                       -   Pearl-diving (dishwashing) in a restaurant
                       -   Pumping gas (yes, we really did provide full service in 1967)
                       -   Helping pay the rent, make a car payment, and put food on the table
                       -   Basically just trying to survive life day-to-day, and
                       -   Married.
               I have no idea why I ever thought marriage was the answer.  It was not, and life went from bad to worse
               in a flash.  Perhaps I was (mistakenly) thinking I could avoid the draft?

               Remember, I was also trying to take classes at the local junior college.

               I was no more ready for college, marriage, car payments, rent, and all the rest than I was an astronaut.
               But, there I was right in the thick of things.

               So, there I was:  A soon to be 19-year-old teen, married, poor, and not seeing a bright future.  I was
               unable to juggle school, marriage, bills, and two jobs.

               The draft loomed like a dark cloud.


                                    My life was becoming more and more miserable every day.

               I was dithering.

               I had the necessary contacts to skip to Canada; become a draft dodger.

               But, my stepfather and an uncle persuaded me that military service was the honorable thing to do and
               that it would also provide for my escape from poverty.

               Remember I said I’d tell you more about my brother?  He was (he passed in 2015) very patriotic.  He was
               blind in one eye thanks to a childhood accident involving my sister and a slingshot.  I am confident he
               would have served in the military.  Perhaps (and I’d like to think) he served in another and just as an
               important way.  You see, he made me feel that I was serving for both of us.  It was not a burden; it was an
               honor.

               My brother married his high school sweetheart on the 4  of July, and every year thereafter, until her
                                                                th
               premature passing; he hosted a “come-one-come-all” picnic with fireworks to honor their marriage and our
               country.  People came from across the road and miles away.  His fireworks were a work of love and a
               sight to behold.
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