I didn't go. I carved the phone number for a draft resister service into the interview table, and argued for hours that there were no three people who would always know my whereabouts (from the Official Draft Registration Form). My version of getting arrested for littering. I didn't get "see-lected", I was "ree-jected". And I didn't even have bone spurs.

Arlo successfully made black humor of a deadly situation: the Vietnam draft. 3.5 million dead from that little adventure (per wikipedia). My Lai hadn't happened yet when he met Officer Obie. The song is black humor about the Vietnam War, dressed up in holiday wrapping. (..."eat dead burnt bodies"...) Hey, that's the actual lyrics. Humor's a good way of dealing with pain, especially black humor. We're still coping with the traumas. Arlo's comedy songs helped.

I had a wonderful harvest feast a couple weeks ago. We'll have a roast today and play with the dog, but I took time out for a little something in solidarity with the 53rd annual Wampanoag Day Of Mourning, commemorating their genocide in Massachusetts.

Better than arguing with my trumpy relatives at dinner (grin).