1969 was a hell of a year. Astronauts from Apollo 11 walked on the moon. The Beatles released Abbey Road, their final album. A national draft lottery was held for men, aged 18-26. In Massachusetts, a tragic auto accident occurred on Chappaquiddick Island. Out west, Charles Manson’s cult committed horrendous murders. That summer, thousands flocked to a music festival at Woodstock, New York. And, last, but not least, Sesame Street aired its first show on PBS. Meanwhile, in the background of all these happenings, a brutal war raged in Southeast Asia.
From ’67 to ’69, when I was 21-23, 1000 or more young American men died each month in the Vietnam War. This conflict, characterized by combat atrocities and clumsy military strategy, drove a wedge between Baby Boomers and their parents.
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll music also influenced the psyche of my generation. I lived a somewhat dissolute life as a college student in San Francisco, supported by school loans and part-time jobs.
I played the role of a poet, indifferent to the fatalistic drift of my life. I partied. I chain smoked cigarettes and spun my wheels in the fumes of marijuana. Classwork plummeted to the bottom of my list of interests.
This period of arrested development, however, began to wobble. Warily, I watched the bad dream of Vietnam unspool on TV. The whirlwind of the war machine swirled. Its unstoppable momentum swept up young men not tied to a deferment. Mine was fragile.
Options other than college did exist for the un-deferred: jail, fleeing to Canada, and conscientious objector service. These unsatisfactory alternatives clashed with the well connected, who could “game” the system.
Our current president is renowned for suspect bone spurs. His republican predecessor has a military past checkered with skepticism. Bill Clinton, the third of my presidential peers, also muddied the waters of draft dodgery.
Yes, ‘69 had a lot going on. The golden anniversary of some events, like the moon landing, deserve recognition. Scant attention, however, is paid to the draft lottery. Yet, that event, more than any other, changed the course of my life.
The intent was to create a more equitable process. I drew a high number. In one short evening drama, I went from prospective casualty to survivor. Of those less fortunate, many had their lives derailed by a debacle that now occupies a place in America’s hall of shame.
Soon after the lottery, I dropped out of school. Chance dealt me a wildcard and I played to my instincts. I moved to the Sierra Mountains of California in search of solitude. Eventually, the harmony of nature brought balance back to my life. I lived in Yosemite National Park for the next five years without a car, TV, or phone. I met my wife there. I never returned to school.
Today’s young men and women have unique concerns. Climate change, gun violence, and income inequality come to mind. Add to that the existential risk that smart phones trivialize their lives. There is much about which Gen Z can be cynical. Thankfully, unwanted conscription is not among their worries. Today’s military is all volunteer.
Remedies for wanton capitalism and gun violence might evolve with time. Solutions to climate change … I don’t know. We comprehend the danger but can’t relate to the consequences. And, change resists the imperative when everyone is complicit. Meanwhile, our forests and wildlife are under assault.
I’m 72. I won’t be around for the 50th anniversary of 2019’s events. After 44 years, I’ve come down from the mountains to live in town. It’s where I belong. I keep a small garden. There’s a cat.
Harmony and balance remain elusive, just as they were in 1969. I got lucky. I lived a life of my own choosing, “far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife.”
What, I wonder, will be celebrated 50 years hence? Brexit perhaps, the implosion of Venezuela, or maybe impeachment proceedings against an American president?
Whatever. 1969 was, indeed, a hell of a year. 2019? Its mysteries are yet to be fully revealed.
No Other Anywhere, a song of celebration.
Latest cancer markers in The Drill.
Good Blood, Bad Blood 
A helluva year indeed. I was a year old, my parents were 20. No Vietnam for my dad. I have flashes of memories, mostly a sensation of chaos, excitement. Things were happening, good and bad. Then what happened? Somehow even outrage has become orchestrated and shallow. But that doesn’t mean that things can’t change. It just needs to be approached much differently. Thanks for this vibrant trip into your past, John. Really a fascinating time in history.
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Thank you for your writings.
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A beautiful, thoughtful piece, John. Some decisions are more important than others. I recently told Ginger, before she left for a visit to New Orleans, that marrying her in 1984 was the best decision I ever made. I think your moving to Yosemite was, if not the most important, certainly one of the most important decisions, right alongside marrying Marilyn.
Loved the song.
Went to The Drill but found only an entry from December of 2018. Did I miss something?
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The narrative of my status has not changed. The numbers are updated to show the latest lab results from May 2019.
Yes, we both married well. My moving to Wawona put me on a path to meet Marilyn.
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Beautifully written, John. When people ask about my military service, I tell them that the piccolo saved my life. I was classified 1-A and summoned to Oakland for a pre-induction physical a year before the lottery went into effect. A couple of days later, a trumpet playing friend of mine called and asked if the draft was an issue for me and wondered if I played the piccolo. He had just joined the National Guard band and the warrant officer in charge was in need of a piccolo player. I borrowed a piccolo, auditioned and then spent the next six years not doing anything dangerous or particularly useful while in the military.
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Great story Jeff. Music has opened many a door for you! I, too, went through an induction physical and was fortuitously delayed due to a surgical procedure I’d undergone. By the time my doctor provided details, student deferments were again allowed even if one was not making normal progress. Then, the lottery came along.
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I really enjoy your writings, John. Thanks.
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Love you Larry. Hope you are well. 😎
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