An Autobiography Origninally Written for Grandchildren

Why read about a person who is neither rich nor famous? Nothing in my life has shifted the world from its axis, but it is little people like us who create history. We are the raindrops that irrigate crops and replenish our aquifers. We are the essential inhabitants of Small Town, USA.

This biography tells of a long forgotten lifestyle. It describes one-room schoolhouses and 15 cent movies with double features and newsreels. It depicts Halloweens without fear of darkness or needles in candy. We had no play dates. We were free-range children who were expected home in time for supper or when it got dark. Babies were born in homes and doctors made house calls. Schools were not fortresses with locked doors and security guards. During hunting season, students arrived with guns, so they could hunt after school. Pickup trucks often had gun racks hanging over the back window. No one envisioned an assault weapon designed to hunt people.

The second half of this biography is darker. It was a foregone assumption that Vietnam was the future for all males graduating in the 1960s. I was drafted in 1966 and spent eleven months in Vietnam as a medic with the 4th Inf. Division. I was not an exceptional soldier—no purple hearts or bronze stars. I never talked much about the war or the hostile America I returned to. For me, the war is over. I had planned to take my memories to the grave, but many veterans are still fighting that war. If my candid disclosure of my inner-most thoughts helps one veteran find closure, than perhaps I have tilted the world from its axis however so slightly.