Reader Submission: The Kids on my Street

On my street, the kids went to war when they graduated high school. The moms and dads had a party for the boys before they left for basic training and another one before they shipped to Vietnam. The kids on my street all went to Vietnam.

There weren’t many parties when the kid came back. Just having him back in one piece was enough. The moms and dads seemed to sink into themselves and always aged while their child was gone.

When the kid came back he was usually working at Chevy, Ford or Republic Steel before his hair grew over his ears and onto his collar. Most of the boys on my street grew their hair long after they came back from Vietnam.

The people on my street knew that the fortunate sons of privilege were not going to Vietnam. The Batchelders, Bushes and Cheneys lived on avenues, drives and boulevards where all of the children went to college and joined the National Guard or the Army Special Reserve or got themselves elected to a Government position if they ran out of deferments. These children didn’t keep themselves out of the war. Their moms and dads used their power and influence and money to keep their kids out of Vietnam.

The children on the Batchelder’s, Bush’s and Cheney’s avenues and boulevards were already working in Government when the kids on my street came back from Vietnam. The Batchelder, Bush and Cheney children never did grow their hair long and they didn’t learn first-hand about real human justice and injustice and tragedy and corruption and courage and sacrifice, but they did get a big head start in government, which is part of the reason that we are in the situation we are in, in Iraq. These sons of privilege never tested or tempered their own character in the Vietnam crucible and arrived in positions of power without the capability of exercising the thoughtful judgment that they may have possessed had they only gone to war with the kids on my street.

John Galish
Brunswick