Fielder's Choice

I was born when Winston tasted good , like a cigarette should. We ran across a baseball field with my Dad to watch Jack Kennedy's motorcade . We were offered protection underneath our desks from Soviet warheads. A couple of years later, the motorcade made the fatal mistake of slowing to a crawl in Dallas . They got him. They. Anyway, I grew up a normal ,conflicted youth. I had the ability to go so deeply into a book, that it was real, it was a variation of the fugue state I entered when playing sports. The British Invasion blew my mind and saved me. Every few years they cook up a new excuse to slaughter young men and civilians. This one they called Vietnam. I thank God that I got a high number in the lottery and I thank and honor those who went and those who didn't return. The conflicted kid , became a conflicted adult . Fifteen years later , the grace of God pulled me from a booze and drug laced spiral. I married a sweet , sweet woman and we were blessed with a beautiful boy and a beautiful girl. I lucked out and ended up as a conductor on the railroad. Twenty-eight years and out. Now , I want to wrassle all those fragments of stories that have spun through my brain for years.