OLD AGE SCREAMS, “GIVE ME MY REVERENCE”

Old age in many cultures bring celebrations and reverence. Why?

If you rack up enough years and you’re the last one standing, you are an automatic authority on the era you lived through.

Pretty easy stuff so far. Too easy?

Unless you get old in America. Then it’s a different story.

There’s a deflection point in American old age when the respect for elders changed to something else, something ominous.

What happened? The draft for the Vietnam War happened.

Call it The Draft.

The Cold Warriors who cut their teeth on WWII and Korea had a theory about Vietnam and the region.

They called it The Domino Theory. Like many theories, it had problems, unforeseen problems.

The American failure to prevent a communist victory in Vietnam had much less of an impact than had been assumed by proponents of the domino theory. With the exception of Laos and Cambodia, communism failed to spread throughout Southeast Asia.

The old people who ran the Selective Service draft are mostly dead, along with 59,000 American servicemen who most certainly dead.

Not all of the soldiers were conscripted. However, the shadow cast by the draft darkened the outlook of young people in the sixties and early seventies.

One of the popular chants of the times was, “Hell no, we won’t go.” Which was answered with, “America: Love It, Or Leave It.”

Draft aged men of the Vietnam-Era took a dim view of those in charge. At the same time, those in charge had a different view of potential recruits.

In 2021, Vietnam Veterans are no longer young.

Old Age Respect

Some boys got their parents to sign them up for military service at seventeen to get to the war as soon as possible.

Others went kicking and screaming after dropping out of college and getting scooped up.

Either way, if both survived to old age, they want their respect. They let bygones be bygones. No matter how they got to Vietnam, and back out, they’ve earned the right to wave the flag.

Personal feelings aside, they fall in. Who else falls into line?

The draft dodgers, draft card burners, deserters. Since every member of the whole rainbow are old, they cling to certain memories from their youth and forget others.

A side note: this writer dropped out of college and joined the Army in 1974. The dates describe my service as Vietnam Era. Except, my war zone was Philadelphia.

The Drill Sergeants and Range Masters then were all Vietnam guys. Their job was to restore the military after the Vietnam withdrawal. Were they hard on the young men. Let’s say they brought a special attitude to their job:

“We are not losers.”

The Aging Breaking Point

Now that the rebels and revolutionaries of the counter culture are counting their last remaining days, they all want to go out in glory.

Some go with Stolen Valor, some with regret, some with a roar. Every life path is unique, though they all share common ground.

If playing dress up in a uniform from Andy and Bax gets you through the day, have at it.

But it’s weird to see military service as a signature move for guys with no idea of what it entails.

Instead of driving on with their best life and persevere, they want the thing they can’t have.

They have reached old age and suffer the same slings and arrows they aimed at the old shits in Selective Service. It comes with the territory. Eventually it seeps into the culture through the cracks. No one chants, “Fuck Off And Die You Old Bastards” but there is an unmistakable taint.

Baby Boomers get the blame, the same blame they hung on the draft board.

“You don’t understand, you’re too old.”

“Why don’t you go if you’re so gung ho.”

“You are weak old ghouls sucking the life out of everything you touch.”

Old Age Remedy

Be a decent person.

Teach your children well about their parents’ hell, with thanks to CCNY.

You can’t save the world, the world is too busy to save you, so spread some good will.

Let go of decades old animosity.

Mend broken fences.

Embrace the future with unbridled enthusiasm.

If you want the respect that comes with old age in other lands, do the right thing.

Be forgiving, except for the draft board sons of bitches. Seriously, fuck those guys. They knew where they were sending those eighteen year olds.

In closing I’m reminded of the hale and hearty Welcome To The Army moment. We processed in at Receiving, got haircuts, then a bunch of shots. What were they? I don’t know, but one of them hurt like hell.

After shots we lined up for uniforms and boots and A-1 shoes. Arms out, clothing stacked, and shuffling sideways down a long row of tables with people behind them.

The last stop was for the bus driver’s hat. The man had a big smile, fitted a hat on our heads, and smacked the shit out of every shot-sore shoulder.

He loved his job.