Such A Price
Roadboy's Travels © 2018
I was in high school at the height of the Vietnam war. To make my movie money I worked nights, holidays, weekends and summers in Oakland's Downtown Merchants parking lots. One lot was the Clay Street garage across the street from Oakland's Army Induction Center. So as I sat in my little booth cashing out parkers, I witnessed the seemingly endless line of young men from all over the country reporting for duty.
They were pretty somber. Many had said goodbye's to families, friends and loved ones the night before. Some clearly had hangovers.
The line was quiet. Faces carried a look of profound uncertainty perhaps mixed with fear. Most knew that they were destined to see and experience things that would remain with them forever.
It hurt knowing that many of the young faces in that line would not return alive.
It hurt knowing that many of the young faces in that line would not return alive.
It was humbling.
It is an image that has remained with me for all of my 62 years. And today, like every Memorial Day since, and with a son of my own, the haunting image of the line returns.
It is an image that has remained with me for all of my 62 years. And today, like every Memorial Day since, and with a son of my own, the haunting image of the line returns.
Roadboy's Travels © 2018
