Are you the girl who spat on me?

July 4, 1972. Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA. It was my last day in uniform. I was to be released from active duty the next day, having spent four years in the US Navy, Submarine Service.

A few of us went to the park, in uniform, to celebrate our impending freedom, and while there, you spat on me.

I guess it was the Vietnam Service Ribbon. Or just the uniform in general, I don’t know your motivation. And I confess, my knee jerk reaction wasn’t my proudest moment either, spitting back at you. Maybe that started the melee which followed.

We were escorted back to Treasure Island by Shore patrol, and given a lecture, and thankfully, no other punishment. It did keep me one extra day in the Navy and I was released on July 6.

It has been 48 years. Girl, what happened in your life?

Mine has been fairly normal, got married, had children, got divorced, worked a lot of different jobs, traveled, visited old buddies I served with, some of whom were also spat on and called “baby killer” when they got home.

The submarine service didn’t offer up too many chances to shoot or kill anyone, although there were a few annoying officers on board. We came from all different backgrounds, education, even races. We did what we were told to do, and prayed we wouldn’t have to fire our missiles, which surely meant the Apocalypse had begun.

Girl, I’ve thought about you over the years, wondered what happened after I spat back at you and I am sorry about that. I wonder if you held onto that anger, if it stayed with you, if it shaped your adult life in some way?

That incident stayed with me, made me confront my anger issues, made me examine my reactions to what other people say and do. I think you spitting on me helped make me a better person, well, I haven’t spit on anyone in 48 years. Although…

On June 18, 2020, around 5:30 PM, I was accosted by a former marine, who yelled at me for wearing a mask into a CircleK convenience store. I was as shocked at his screaming as I was at your spit. It took me by surprise and we had words, albeit nothing physical except his threats. I’m 70. He looked to be in his 30’s, six foot, probably 200+ pounds. I’m 5'7", maybe 150 soaking wet.

Safe to say, I wasn’t going take it any further, and in that moment, while he was yelling at me, for wearing a mask, I thought of you.

I had to wonder if the young girl in Golden Gate Park had become a “Karen”?

Are you now confronting people who wear masks? Are you calling the police because you see a black man in your neighborhood? Are you pulling your gun and itching to use it?

Now, I’ve known many a young protester grow up and become a part of the machine they once raged against. Is that you?

Or did you hold on to your righteous indignation and now, as a Sunday school teacher in your church, do you rail against the authorities who won’t let you even attend your church?

I wonder. I really do. You spat on me because I served my country? And yet, a young marine wanted to pound on me for wearing a face mask, and voting for the wrong people and I was ruining this country (his). All that info spewing from his mouth, from me just wearing a face mask.

My country was divided in 1968, when I went into the Navy. Riots, cities ablaze, Chicago Convention…martial law, Kent State, Jackson State and the Vietnam War.

Young people took to the streets, they protested, they spat upon people wearing a uniform. What are they doing today? Are they pulling out their semi-automatic weapons with the bump stock and aiming at the protesters of today?

July 4, we celebrate our freedom, our independence, our liberties.

There is a saying, the cost of Freedom isn’t free. And today, I like to remember those that served, and my shipmates, and the veterans of all the wars.

And I want to say to you Girl, I didn’t like your reaction to my uniform, and I didn’t like my reaction to you, but I want you to know this…

I respect your right as a citizen of the land of the free, to have a different view of the world than I do, I want you to be free to speak your mind, to present your arguments. I respect your passion, your civility rights.

I wonder if today you respect mine?

Or are you like the marine who sees his world in black and white, and knows what is exactly right, the way things should and ought to be? Will you spit on me today because I choose to wear a face mask? Or will you allow me the right not to?

It feels like a lot of time has passed since that day in Golden Gate Park, although it doesn’t feel much different. My hope for the future is that the protester of today, doesn’t turn into the “Karen” of tomorrow.

I hope you didn’t.