Make a Change

At my most impressionable years were spent at end of the hippie movement in the early '70's. While there weren’t too many hippies in Bloomingdale, we did have a ton of big brothers and uncles over in Vietnam. So every night I’d either sit in front of Cronkite or Huntley and Brinkley, and listen the nearly live reports from the front lines. I had four uncles that were Vietnam era veterans, two serving in country. The war was never far from my family’s mind. I grew up a pacifist, my Dad a Korean era draftee never cared for me to carry on his military legacy. He much preferred I become a company man like himself. Working for a company that couldn’t care less about him.

Sitting here enjoying a little morning sunlight, I’m reminded of spring mornings hopping on my bike and riding for literally hours at the time. The dirt roads of my hometown were perfect for all kinds of adventures. I think about that now, and I feel sad for the locked down children of today. It seems the more “convenient” we’ve made our lives, the more isolated we have become. Even now, I can’t go anywhere without a mask, after a solid year. For what we were told would be a temporary thing, it still seems like a lifetime.

Like I said, I never got the opportunity to grow my hair out like my peers. My Dad, who wore a flat top most of my life. Felt it was only Christian for me to do the same. So here I sit, still scrambling through life searching for who I am. Drawing lines between what I want and what I’m not allowed to be. Sitting here in the morning sun, thinking about the past, the present, and the future. Trying to piece together who I want to be. So far, it’s going okay. Just as long as I’m comfortable in my own skin. If not, then it’s time for me to make a change.