9. Journal, 1968

Journal Entries 1968

Wednesday, July 17, 1968:

It’s Two a.m. and I couldn’t sleep, as usual, so I decided to write.  I haven’t written to Cindy yet, as I said I would, but I have written to Susan, very deeply.  She answered, shallowly.

I’m in Claxton now, having graduated in June, working with Daddy and trying to decide what to do about the military.  I’ve been back to school a couple of weekends, had a date with Bonnie.  I like Bonnie.  But my situation is so insecure and indefinite.  I might be in Viet-Nam next month!  Well, hardly, but the military maybe.

Friday, August 30, 1968, 1 a.m.:

It is with heavy heart and tortured mind, that I take up my pen to release the burdens now shared by all mankind: This is a hard-down time of life when all seems lost in a sea of hate, threatening love.

The world is surely in a mess. But more, life is hard to live here

within myself: the non-synchronization of situations drives me to the wall, the non-realization of idealizations crushes my mind.

I see the circumstances of my life closing in on me. Conflicts of ideas, the conflict of generations, plague me.  I find an internal conflict with home, family, and society on every hand….

I must go to the aid of society, it seems, in the channels of the Air Force.  But can I in good conscience fight?  And if I cannot, then what of our future?

Monday, September 16, 1968:

(With apologies to Omar Khayam)

Time was my love and I

would quote the Rubiyat and sigh,

bemoaning “this sorry scheme of Things entire”

when we were by things divided.

With clasp-ed hands and tearful eyes

we spoke of how we would conspire

to change the course of time and rivers,

and direct destiny to our togetherness forever.

We gazed upon the languid moon

and sat for hours, thinking soon

our love would change its even course,

then release those things which held us,

it seemed, by force.

Fairly we wasted many a precious hour

more comely spent enjoying the beauty of now.

Now we speak not of chains, or sigh

for things we cannot untie,

we live only in the love we share,

holding each moment ‘til there are no more.

Thursday, October 3, 1968, 1 a.m.:

Uncle Dan just brought me a letter which came in the Wednesday evening mail – Selective Service order to report for physical examination.  I go on Oct. 9 to be examined.  A shock, not expected ‘til next month.  Well, now things are pretty concrete.  Uncle Dan put his arm around me and told me in halting voice and choked words that despite our differences in the past, he loved me as his own.  He is a wonderful person.  I was so overcome I could say nothing.  Suddenly, I felt so ridiculous in my pseudo-rebellious garb, with my un-natural attitude.  And so ashamed of my cutting words and unholy thoughts in the past.

Tuesday night, January 14, 1969:

I need to do a little catching up here to keep things in perspective: First, I was not selected for OTS on the first review – am an alternate, still chance for next class. Second, Jarrell and Allan went to Basic on the 7th and I have had a very depressing letter from Jarrell. Other than that, I’m doing very well and am very happy.

I just hope I get into OTS so things can work out with Pauline.

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