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Steven
]]>As I read the pages of your book, I found myself laughing about things I had not thought of in many years, as well as feeling your pain and suffering. Both of my parents are still alive - so I cannot say that I know your pain other than the pain that ANY boy growing up in Mississippi during that era would have. Although I was born in Mississippi, my father, being a navy man, did not bring his family back to Freeny - just outside of Carthage - until I started the second grade in 1966. We were outside of the country when the civil rights workers disappeared as well as when kennedy was shot and only remember both those events as “history” - but DO remember being appalled at both. I can remember when Mississippi Burning came out how people back home thought our state was getting a bum rap …. My only comments to friends from Houston at the time was that Mississippi had not changed one single iota since 1964 - except perhaps that the Klan was a little more careful about who and where they killed people. I had an uncle tell me once that I would never understand the purpose of the Klan …. My only thought at the time was that I hoped I never WANTED to. I can remember doing a book report on Booker T Washington in the 7th grade … I went to Leake Academy (for the education I could get there according to my parents who scrimped and saved so I could have the opportunity) and suffered - rather proudly - the term N… Lover for several years after that … I was always the school sissy and the school queer long before I knew what those words meant and certainly long before I had acted upon any of my desires to deserve them. I had my first sexual encounter at the age of 14 - almost 15 - with the carpenter who was working on my parents house at the time …. Luckily, I guess, I enjoyed that experience, although looking back at it, I know that it was carefully plotted and worked up to for many many weeks - months even - before it was acted upon. And, I guess, to some degree he was my “Bobby” … I can remember going to New Stages theatre with my mother and Doyle Fulton - our school librarian at the time - to I think what was actually a play done by Eudora Welty. I can remember Doyle introducing us all to her after the play as if she was in fact a dear old friend. (She (Doyle) ALWAYS treated everyone that way - and I was never really sure whether they were or not.) I was enthralled at meeting a playwright. I had truly enjoyed the play. I even bought another of Eudora’s books - which I did not enjoy at the time … But perhaps, I should go back and give her her due.
Did not mean to get all into the details of my own life - but primarily wanted to let you know just how much you touched me through your book. I can honestly say that no truthful autobiography has ever touched me in such a fashion, let alone even fiction (with the possible exception of Mark Twain). Your language and sometimes just the choice of a single word brought back so many memories that I had not thought of in years.
Thank you for your book - thanks for the memories. I look forward to reading your next book(s) as well.
Bruce
]]>Out of curiosity, what’s on your current reading list?
]]>I was drafted (for the 2nd time–long story) in 1970. I had already decided that my form of protest would be to go to jail. As it turned out, that would have been Michigan City Prison…and I would have lasted about five minutes.
My very liberal brother-in-law–realizing that I was serious about going to jail–flew me to the University of Kansas Medical Center for a series of tests. An X-ray revealed that I had a “birth defect”–spina bifida occulta minor (which my father noticed when I came home from the hospital, but decided that if no one made a big fuss, then it probably would have no detrimental effect on me–turns out he was right).
When I presented the letter stating that I had spina bifida occulta minor, the physician said, “You’re one lucky SOB. We were taking spina bifida occulta minor up until last week. But you bastards kept suing the military for injury–so we stopped. You’re 4-F…you’re out of here.
After having lived with the prospect of going to jail for more than 2 years, instead of being jubilant–I was deeply depressed and resolved to try to convince others that Vietnam was a terrible mistake. Hence, the plea for “amnesty”.
Kevin, I appreciated your very wise and mature high school editorial…and, as always, your Blog.
~Gary