So as I recall, the phone was ringing off the hook sometime before noon
on a day in February, 1972. I woke.
My head was pounding like the base drum in a parade.
I thought, oh crap, what is going on?
I was the only one home at my parents house and no one else was gonna get it.
"Hello" I said. My headhurt, my stomache was talking dirty to me and I had to pee.
"Ron, what was my number?" It was my friend Bob.
"What?" I said.
The room shifted a little under my feet and I tried to figure things out.
"What number did they draw for me?", He said.
It started to dawn on me.
The draft lottery was last night.
"I don't know." I said. "Hey I'll call you right back."
"No, I'll be right over" he said and hung up.
I started to sort things out.
We had heard about a draft lottery party for the night of the drawing.
The 1972 drawing was for those born in 1953. The drinking age was now 18
instead of 21. The drawing was on tv but it was not fast enough to keep up with
our alcohol intake. It was a blur. Guys were saying that they were going to the
Air Force recruiter in the morning. Guys were saying they'd go into the Navy instead.
Guys were thinking about Canada. Last night was not in clear focus for me.
I peed, brushed my teeth and grabbed a couple aspirin.
I got a large glass of coke and a handfull of Oreo cookies.
When you are 18 you can eat like that.
It was the age of gas allocation, wage and price controls, and
hippies and hard-hats.
Bob showed up with bloodshot eyes and a funny color to him.
We decided to get a paper.
We didn't know that the war was gonna wind down.
We found that we both had numbers that were not going to be reached.
That was 50 years ago.
