7 June 20
Summer of 69
I’ll never forget. It was a Wednesday, the 17th of August, 1969 and I had no idea what was going to happen with my life. Yes, I did have a job, or about to have one, as a teacher. It was not something I really looked forward to doing but at least it was keeping me from being drafted and sent of to Vietnam.
Not too many options for a guy of my era. You were either drafted or went to university and made it through in 4 years or managed to find some sort of made up medical deferment, flat feet, bone spurs, bad eyes, something like that. Unfortunately, I had none of those problems. Well of course, fortunately. But It meant staying focuses and in school at the university of Indiana. But now I was out. I did have an offer to join a archeological dig in Greece from one of my history professors, however, that would have not qualified me for a deferment after the summer was over.
Luckily, I had made a few connections, oddly enough for me, in the religious community. I really never was much of a church goer. Oh the ceremony was interesting in a drama sort of way. But all the rules and the hypocricy was a turn off to me from a very early age. My apostacy was sealed in 4th grade when I asked Sister theresa, “So you mean, if I eat meat on friday, or I kill somebody, either one, I go to hell?” She did not appreciate snotty nosed 9 year olds.
I finally escaped Catholic school and went to public school. That opened many doors for me leading to being invovled in lots of organizations at IU. And it was through that I met the pastor of the University catholic student association. I was never really involved but was known well enough so that I was given a reference to a catholic elementary school in Indianapolis. I interviewed with the principal, Sister Mary Joseph. She was a bright charming older nun. And I knew how to charm an older nun. So I was offered a position on faculty starting in September teaching 12 and 13 year olds english and history. I had no real qualifications other than I spoke english and had a history degree from IU. About teaching, all I knew was what I had experienced as a student. But anything to avoid going to Vietnam was the rule in those days. This was after Nixon had taken over and initiated the bombing program in Southeast Asia making US soldiers lives even more threatened by locals.
Anyway, with Sister Mary J’s commitment to a teaching position, I was given yet another deferment by my local draft board and went off to Indianapolis to start my life. As I said, I had no clue and was still marking time. I had graduated, with no debt and no money. I was determined not to ask my parents for support and had found a job as an all around go-fer for the summer working in a sports car dealership at minimum wage. I had my first apartment and my first credit card and debt and was really floating through life at that point.
At University, I had been that prototypical College guy of the 50’s and 60s in the US. Frat boy, short hair, involved in multiple organizations, khacki pants with blue button down cotton shirts, penny loafers (wijans we called them by brand name). Straight arrow with a bit of foolishness possible but never outright obnoxious. Actually still innocent in many ways as to the world though I thought I knew a lot more than I did.
During the early part of the summer I would drive down to my hometown for weekends with my parents. My mom would do my laundry and make me her steak and french fries and fortify me with food to take back up to Indy. My dad though happy to see me, reminded me that I was now on my own. “Time to cut the cord” he would say along with a sissoring motion with his first two fingers. I got the message.
As my first summer went along I really was on my own for the first time. I didnt have my frat brothers or organization work or studies and tests to keep me focused. The work I did used very little brain power and I did not seek to push myself.
I spent my evenings, in my apartment with my newly purchased on credit stereo system, listening to Led Zepeline and Hendrix and Janice Joplin and many of the other rock stars of that era. It was in august that I heard about Woodstock. I was totally clueless when a friend from university called and said he was going to New York to a big concert and did I want to ride along. However, having no money and a daily job with teaching about to start I declined.
That was what happened on the 17th. I said no. It was the following week that the reports of the Festival became the big news of my generation. And I had missed it. I began to let my hair grow after that. I started teaching the following week. And actually, I enjoyed it. The kids thought I was cool. I enjoyed coming up with different ways of teaching english. To promote interest in writing amongst my 7th graders, I had them imagine they were journalists. I taught them how to do interviews by taking on the persona of Winston Churchill and other historical figures and having them interview me and then write it as a story. I used the lyrics from Jimmi Hendrix song, “the wind calls mary” to show them that poetry was still important and that it wasn’t all old english writers.
We even put out a newspaper. I was into giving them freedom such as redecorating the classroom. The kids got really into it putting up posters such as one promoting the movie of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and pictures and other items covering the concrete block walls. Unfortunately, Sister Mary Joseph had taken a fall and broken her hip. Her replacement was the ghost of Sister Mary Theresa from my 9 year old experience. When I arrived at school the next day, everything had been taken down. The only enjoyment I got out of that episode was imagining her having to go high up on a ladder to take down that poster. She did not appreciate my liberal attitude toward teaching and I was informed that my contract would not be renewed after the end of the school year.
It no longer mattered as the draft system had been changed to a lottery system. Your birth date was assigned a number corresponding to the order in which you would be drafted. It was a chance system of a drawing. My mom called me one night. Gerald, did you get my present?
No Mom I replied. What is it.
Your birth day.
No mom its not my birthday today.
No she said, its your day of birth. It was just drawn in the draft lottery as number 360. You’re not going to be drafted.
And with that day and with my freedom from teaching scheduled. I had to begin to live the rest of my life. And I never looked back.