Tonight I will try to answer that age old question - How can you be two places at once, when you are really no place at all?
One of my fondest memories of my 1st childhood was sitting out on the curb in front of the house I grew up in listening to my transistor radio tuned to the WHB top 40. I spent hours there listening to the Beach Boys, the Supremes, or Paul Revere and the Raiders and the many other wonderful musicians of the 60's. My love of music guided me to choose a hopeful career in the industry. Since I couldn't play an instrument, and when I tried to sing the dogs in the neighborhood howled, I decided to become a disc jockey. When I got to college I took classes in radio broadcasting and became program director of the campus radio station. That is when I realized that everyone there did not love music, but themselves. I never realized most disc jockeys were arrogant jerks. Disillusioned I took courses of topical interest. I enrolled in Black studies classes, women's movement classes, and gay studies. If I would have stuck with that, I could be a gay black woman now.
The most important aspect of my college career is that it saved my life. In the 60's we did not have a volunteer army. We had the draft. Any male at 18 must register for the selective service. After high school, if you did not go on to college, you were inducted into the army. That meant one thing- YOU ARE GOING TO VIET NAM. I applied for a CO or conscientious objector status since 10 years of Catholic school taught Thou Shall Not Kill, and I believed that. The draft board did not agree. I was fortunate to get a college deferment, for I would have never survived Viet Nam. The majority of drafties were poor blacks, Latinos, and whites, plus a lot of kids enlisted so they could choose their branch of service. Nobody wanted to go there. Fighting a foe that didn't always wear uniforms, and who thought they were defending their land from the invading Americans. At home we were fighting to end the war by protesting, marching, and civil disobedience. We all had relatives or friends that came home in a box. We wanted to bring them all home alive. As the deaths toll climbed higher and higher the outcry at home got louder and louder. Finally the troops were pulled back home, but not before over 50,000 thousand young boys died. When the troops returned, they were not treated to a parade or respectful thank you, but were cussed at and spit on. They were doing the best they could in an insane situation and deserved so much better. I'm sorry. Forgive Us. PLEASE LETS NOT DO THIS AGAIN.
Until Next Time The Beggars Apprentice
One of my fondest memories of my 1st childhood was sitting out on the curb in front of the house I grew up in listening to my transistor radio tuned to the WHB top 40. I spent hours there listening to the Beach Boys, the Supremes, or Paul Revere and the Raiders and the many other wonderful musicians of the 60's. My love of music guided me to choose a hopeful career in the industry. Since I couldn't play an instrument, and when I tried to sing the dogs in the neighborhood howled, I decided to become a disc jockey. When I got to college I took classes in radio broadcasting and became program director of the campus radio station. That is when I realized that everyone there did not love music, but themselves. I never realized most disc jockeys were arrogant jerks. Disillusioned I took courses of topical interest. I enrolled in Black studies classes, women's movement classes, and gay studies. If I would have stuck with that, I could be a gay black woman now.
The most important aspect of my college career is that it saved my life. In the 60's we did not have a volunteer army. We had the draft. Any male at 18 must register for the selective service. After high school, if you did not go on to college, you were inducted into the army. That meant one thing- YOU ARE GOING TO VIET NAM. I applied for a CO or conscientious objector status since 10 years of Catholic school taught Thou Shall Not Kill, and I believed that. The draft board did not agree. I was fortunate to get a college deferment, for I would have never survived Viet Nam. The majority of drafties were poor blacks, Latinos, and whites, plus a lot of kids enlisted so they could choose their branch of service. Nobody wanted to go there. Fighting a foe that didn't always wear uniforms, and who thought they were defending their land from the invading Americans. At home we were fighting to end the war by protesting, marching, and civil disobedience. We all had relatives or friends that came home in a box. We wanted to bring them all home alive. As the deaths toll climbed higher and higher the outcry at home got louder and louder. Finally the troops were pulled back home, but not before over 50,000 thousand young boys died. When the troops returned, they were not treated to a parade or respectful thank you, but were cussed at and spit on. They were doing the best they could in an insane situation and deserved so much better. I'm sorry. Forgive Us. PLEASE LETS NOT DO THIS AGAIN.
Until Next Time The Beggars Apprentice
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