We all know sometimes life hates and troubles
Can make you wish you were born in another time and space
But you can bet your lifetimes that and twice it's double
That God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed
The drawing...
The first capsule was drawn by Congressman
Alexander Pirnie (R-NY) of the House
Armed Services Committee
December 1, 1969 marked the date of the first draft lottery held since 1942. This drawing determined the order of induction for men born between January 1, 1944 and December 31, 1950. A large glass container held 366 blue plastic balls containing every possible birth date and affecting men between 18 and 26 years old.The drawing...
The first capsule was drawn by Congressman
Alexander Pirnie (R-NY) of the House
Armed Services Committee
The break room at Pain Hall was abuzz with anticipation. Me and some other friends were huddled together along with just about everyone of our dorm brothers to watch "Lottery Night With Today's U.S. Army" on the television set, normally reserved for sporting events or Johnny Carson. I'm going out on a limb here, but I'm supposing the Neilson ratings on college campuses everywhere must have been in the stratosphere. The rest of the younger generation that didn't want to attend college for whatever reasons was tuned in, too, because their fates hung in the balance, as well.
We all wanted a high lottery number. Anything under "200" was deemed by the experts as a one way ticket to SE Asia. So me and the rest of the male population in the U.S.A. had a stake in the proceedings and were glued to our seats. I was praying to my "God" that he/she would smile down on me and reward me with a number over "200."
"Please, dear lord, I know I asked you to let the Braves beat the Mets in the NL playoffs [ '69 ]; And I asked you to let me pass French II at Rowdy High my senior year, when I got so far behind due to catching "The Hong Kong Flu;' And that I suggested you find a way to get me laid for my 16th birthday, so I could get it out of the way and proceed with fine-tuning my sexual prowess; And I once bothered you-I know you were real busy-to fix my wrecked car before my mom saw it, when an old fart cut in front of me at an intersection, and I plowed into him like a knife through butter.
But I realize now that all the above was my thinking only of myself. Plus, you didn't deliver on any of them except for French II, which I narrowly escaped with a "D," for "done good....barely."
So, lord, I know you're receiving mucho prayers right now from all the young dudes across the country, the home of the free and the land of the brave, but if you would just grant me one request, I would really really appreciate it. All I want this time-if it's ok, let's leave getting laid on the table [ pun unintended ]-is a lottery number over 300. I swear to you that I will change my lifestyle, go to church every Sunday, [ or more if you require it ] and I promise to never set foot in a soft-porn theatre ever again. [ you know the one I am talking about, oh omniscient one ]
If, however, this is not enough, I will even forego the losing of my virginity until a later date. So in closing, thank you, lord, for listening. And please do better than you did with my last requests. P.S. By getting a "D" in French, I failed to graduate with honors, but at this present time, all hostilities toward you have been rescinded.
War, huh yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
War huh yeah
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing.
Say it again y'all
War, huh good god
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing. Listen to me
Believe me. I did not want to go to Viet Nam. And no one sitting in the tv room at Pain Hall was particularly thrilled with the idea either. We were firmly ensconsed in one of the popular theories circulating throughout the U.S. at the time-and one I espoused: "Make love, not war!" Because we were all young dudes, unaware of being at our sexual peaks, we were more concerned about getting laid than looking for "Charlie" in the jungles of Southeast Asia.
JFK had gotten us into this mess while the French packed up and left. We were there to stop the flow of communism. Or that seemed to be the logic. Domino effect, shmomino effect. I was only 17 and still wet behind the ears and had just reached puberty a few years prior. I was so into these new sensations my body was experiencing that sometimes when friends called to party, I had to decline the invitation by explaining "something big has come up. Sorry!"
I also a bad case of acne as a teenager from injesting tons of grease billowing from the fryers at "The Happy Place" where I had toiled for two years while at "Rowdy High." And by eating cholesterol-filled cheeseburgers, french fries, cokes, and milk shakes. I didn't need to go to Parris Island; I needed to see a dermatologist and quick. [ editor note: don't let your kids work at fast food emporiums-it would be safer and wiser if you let them join the Army ]
I must defer comments made by the editor until a later time, as it's time to return to the lottery. But he is "right on."
As we, the general male population oohed and awed with every selection, my lottery number was soon to be revealed.... In a later chapter, of course!
So make sure when you say you're in it, but not of it
You're not helpin' to make this earth
A place sometimes called hell
Change your words into truths
And then change that truth into love
And maybe our children's grandchildren
And their great grandchildren will tell
I'll be loving you until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky
5 comments:
V.C., I, too was working at the happy place while attending Rowdy High, and I actually remember my lottery number was 269. I was sweating it out. Even though it was nearing the end, (I didn't know that it was), so I was concerned. And I realize I was a couple of years behind you, so I know it was worse for you during that time.
The longer I read your stories, the more similarities from our past keep on surfacing in your stories. I wish I had known you better during our days with the band on the run, (and afterwords too), but just a slight difference in age and other factors, I suppose, prevented that.
On the floor of the Omni for George Harrison and McCartney. It amazes me we never ran across each other at one of those concerts or others. Believe it or not, I had grown my hair long, and you may not have recognized me anyway. And you-know-who, didn't like it at all, so we had a strained relationship for years. And I barely graduated, probably shouldn't have. I was lucky I did. Dad had moved on to Florida, as he didn't like the alternative of teaching at Price High. (Couldn't blame him either). I would cut so many classes my senior year, but would hardly ever miss 6th period band, even with our new band director in place. Still loved to play so much. But I lost interest in ALL my other classes, and my teachers didn't seem to care either, whether I attended or not.
Anyway, your story is the focus here, and I'm looking forward to hearing the rest of it.
Slippery or(Baby Nelson) I did hate that name.... couldn't do nothing but take it. But it wasn't easy.
Later, V.C.
Carry on and keep up the good work!
Thanks, Slippery. Yes, we have a lot in common. I remember Bogus Bob working at Mickey D's for $.90 an hour-no that is not a typo. Back during the daze of '69.
All young kids rebel. Ours was long hair and drugs [ unfortunately ]; today it's tattoo's and whatever else.
My mom and step dad didn't like my long hair either. I recall having quite a stylish shag in '71. Allah Rod Stewart! And the chicks thought I was [ d'ya think I'm ] sexy and dug me.
You and me and Keith will have to set a dinner date and talk about old times. That would be fun.
"What the Fork Was I Thinking" is my attempt at writing a novel, book, short story, etc. My amigo, bbq, has tried to get me to do it for years. So here it is. For better or for worse.
I have been inspired to write lately. Hopefully, it is meeting your approval and perusal. Gimme shelter, v.c.
I forgot to add, Thanks for the kind words. And you have the talent to write, too. Start your blog and wail away, Slippery. I would enjoy reading your forays. v.c.
V.C.
Although I don't remember my mumber, I know that it was high enough to keep me out of "Nam" and in Milledge. You in Pain weren't the only ones glued to the sets that fateful night!
Later, Steverino
Here's a link, Steverino, where you can find your number. Because I was only seventeen [ you know what I mean ] this batch of numbers was irrelevent to the catfish. My number rolled in circa 1970. If I recall, your # was over 300. v.c.
http://www.landscaper.net/draft.htm#How's%20your%20"Luck%20of%20the%20Draw"?
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