The 60’s: Chapter 19

The Draft
The days after Robert Kennedy’s assassination were somber. I remember staying at my tent. I needed to be alone to feel my feelings about the murder and I needed to think about what was next for my friends and I.
In May Draft notices were delivered to my friends Lee, Mike and Cloudy, within just a few days of each other. These were my favorite guy friends and the thought of them going to Vietnam made me feel barfy,
Lee was an actor with a great sense of humor. He could get me to laughing with the arch of one of his dark bushy eyebrows. We had been friends since I had first come to the mountains. Over the time we knew each other we had spent time talking about everything from the quality of pot we were smoking to the disaster in Vietnam. We were tight.
Mike and Cloudy were the musicians I frequently sang with. They both played guitars plus Cloudy played the mandolin. We all sang and could rock whatever gathering we played in. In early May we had been practicing to play at one of the local bars. We were sounding good in our intertwining harmonies. Some of our music contained original pieces we composed together. We were a musical family unto ourselves.
Two days before the gig Cloudy got his letter from Uncle Sam. Two days later it was Mike and then Lee’s letter came later in May.
When Mike went in he was 4f because of his asthma. Cloudy was a different story.
Cloudy was from a military family in Ohio. Cloudy felt he must go to fight the war. We got the news that he was killed about seven months later in operation Rolling Thunder.
Lee, being the actor swished into the recruiting station with the story that Being with all of those strong lovely men would alleviate his depression from breaking up with his lover of six months. They couldn’t get him out the doors fast enough. The funny thing is that Lee was straight and an actor par excellence.
Those lousy letters kept coming and coming, they were like a tornado that would hit one house and miss the next until finally it came after you. I didn’t know who would be called up next.
The confluence of the river of light and the river of war had converged.
The storm had finally landed on my doorstep and that is when I started Marching.
I can hear how flat my voice sounds here in this writing. The truth is it flattens me to think about it.
Chapter 20: Protesting Vociferously
