The 60's, Free Love, and Vietnam

So what do I remember about the sixties not much, most of it came to Morrilton through the magic of television or went around it all together. In those days the Klu Klux Klan, bigotry, prejudice and discrimination was still in full bloom in this neck of the woods. Morrilton did have it's share of the wanna be hippies though. In the basement of the Old Drummers Club in Little Rock, gays could open up hook up with one another but were not allowed to dance with each other. And the only ones still getting any are the Gay Mafia, the ones in the closet and those on the downlow and those out of the closet on the backlist and Gay Mafia blacklist are shit out of luck because Morrilton is definitely not a good place to be gay and out of the closet.

1968 found me stationed at Hunter Army Airfield in Savannah, GA, that same year Bobby Kennedy was shot, and the entire base went on full alert. The word given was rioting was expected (although none happened) and would spill over onto the Base, all personnel were given orders to stand ready to grab bunk adapters and head for the base perimeters. 1968 was the same year I lost my virginity to one of those "Ladies of The Evening", it was one of those no frills wham, bam, thank you Mr. and that'll be ten bucks please. It was not one of my more favorite things to do, I had a whole lot of trouble just getting started and getting it up. Afterwards she told me if I didn't start getting more "Pussy" I was going to turn "Queer" whoa and hello, I'm already Queer honey, I'm just to damned afraid to tell anybody about it LOL. That was also the year I got my first look at the Ocean and my first time being on a surf board, ( which by the way was the last time I was ever on a surf board) caught the wave and came flying down pretty as you please. I could hear them all on the beach screaming stand up stand up, no way Jose I'll ride this wave laying down if you please.

I was never one of those spit and polish type of guys when I was in the Military, my fatigues always looked like they had just been draged out of the duffle bag. Fatigues had to be clean but they didn't have to be pressed or ironed, well that didn't sit well with one of the Black Sergeants, one of those real spit and polish types whose boots were spit shined and his fatigues were always freshly starched and pressed. Stood me up in front of the whole company one day and blared out this man is a disgrace to the uniform. Did I change and start wearing freshly starched fatigues, hell no the only things I kept freshly pressed were my Class A,s and B,s. and to hell with all of the rest of it. No one in the company however appreciated that Sergeants short lesson on what a disgrace to the uniform is. My big and primary fear the two years I spent in the Army was being ousted and given a section 8 discharge, not even the fear of getting killed in Vietnam could over-ride the all consuming fear of being ousted.

I had six months active service remaining when I was at Hunter and was beginning to think I would be passed by on Vietnam. Then along comes this stinking, do Gooding, well meaning Congressman that felt anyone with at least six months remaining should at least have the opportunity to serve in country, I went to Vietnam literally on the toss of a coin. To that self same shit ass I would only like to say, thank you Son of a Bitch for a life time of sexual impotence and psychological traumas. Had those self same assholes in the Congress, the House of Representatives, the Senate, been as diligent and passionate about medical treatment and compensation then as they are today the fucking Department of Veterans Affairs might not have been the disgrace that it is today.

| Home | Discrimination By The VA | Page Full Of Links | The Hall of Shame | Humor | Gateway Recovery Experiences |
| Parades New Orleans Style | Page Full O Links | Small Town Minds | Hospital Scandals | Reverse Discrimination |
|   Contact   |