XPost: talk.politics.guns, seattle.general, talk.politics.misc   
   From: x@y.com   
      
   >Have you ever gone to a protest, Headley?   
      
   In December of 1968, I found myself on the road from New Jersey to   
   Washington state along what would soon become Interstate 90.  The   
   Vietnam War was in full swing and the United States, having seen the   
   light at the end of the tunnel, was harshly polarized and pouring men   
   into the fray by the thousands.  The orders in my duffle bag contained   
   my ticket to Vietnam.   
      
   Back in those days, a young person could hitch-hike easily; this was   
   particularly so if the person were wearing a military uniform... as I   
   was.  Thus, I had cashed in my travel voucher, pocketed the money, and   
   hit the road riding my thumb.  I arrived in Akron, OH the first   
   evening; there I met some students at Kent State University who   
   invited me to a party.  (This happened over a year before the   
   unfortunate events of May 4, 1970 would indelibly etch the name "Kent   
   State" upon our national memory.)  At the party, I met a young lady   
   (actually, several years older than I, I being barely eighteen) who   
   was a college organizer for the Students for a Democratic Society, a   
   left-wing political organization.  She was clearly trying to recruit   
   me; I enjoyed the attention she paid to me.  The next day, she   
   departed for Notre Dame where she was organizing a large anti-war   
   protest; since I was going west, I rode along... thus, I arrived in   
   South Bend, IN late on a winter's day with a blizzard bearing down   
   trying to find the location of the big protest.   
      
   Anyone familiar with Notre Dame well knows that it is an institution   
   not famous for its liberal philosophy; therefore, an SDS organizer   
   should not have expected a warm welcome, yet, the anti-war crowd was   
   out in full force... all twenty or so of them.  Then the Notre Dame   
   security forces showed up; OK, one of them did, anyway.  He stayed in   
   his car across the street.  We marched around for a while singing   
   anti-war songs; however, I didn't know the words to any of them.   
   After a while, we arrived at the night's climax: the draft-card   
   burning!  But we had a problem: nobody had brought a draft-card.  They   
   thought I should have one (unless I were really an undercover cop),   
   but all I had was my mess-hall pass from Ft Dix... so they decided to   
   burn that instead.  If that weren't enough, by this time the north   
   wind was probably blowing at 35 miles per hour; thus, we couldn't get   
   it to light... they tore it up and spat on it.   
      
   And that was it.  Everyone but me got in their cars and pulled out; I   
   never did see what had happened to the SDS organizer.  It was starting   
   to snow hard enough to make it difficult to see; although I had money,   
   I didn't have any idea where I was or what I would do now.   
      
   "Evening, son; it's gonna be a bad one tonight.  Where are you going?"   
   The campus cop had stepped out of his car.   
      
   "Vietnam," I managed to stammer not realizing that I was on the verge   
   of hypothermia.   
      
   "No, I mean now; where are you headed NOW?"   
      
   Well, I lacked a coherent answer, so he said to get in the car.  I   
   told him that I had enough money to get a hotel if he knew of one.  He   
   was an *old* guy... about 30, I'd guess.  He took me to the South Bend   
   city jail.   "Don't worry," the desk cop said noticing my distress,   
   "We do this all of the time."  They showed me to a warm, dry jail cell   
   where I would spend a comfortable night.  (Everything is relative.)   
   The next morning, I would head west again.   
      
   It certainly wasn't a time of serendipitous harmony in the country; on   
   the other hand, I did witness small acts of kindness that I hope I   
   remember to pass on.  Nobody ever spat at me for being in the Army; I   
   tend to doubt that it ever happened unless the soldier were acting in   
   a confrontational manner... maybe it did.  I also witnessed a few acts   
   of mindless violence in the name of freedom.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)