I Feel A Draft

Yesterday's entry was all loopy Lupercalia and the lottery of love. Today, I am reminded of a different kind of lottery; the birthday lottery of the military draft that took place during my '60's and '70's youth. I was fortunate. I was a girl and not subject to the draft. The draft lottery gods passed over my small world of boyfriends, brothers and classmates with barely a glance in our direction. The war in Vietnam ended. We married, had children, grew into middle age, and the memory of living under that particular Sword of Damocles faded. Until now. A reader from central Wisconsin sends this article for consideration: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/_/id/6862691?pageid=rs.Home&pageregion=single7&rnd=1106949643712&has-player=true&version=6.0.12.872 It's chilling to think that it will take a military draft to fan the flames of an effective anti-war movement in this country. Faced with the recent Bush reelection and a lazy, complacent press, it hurts to admit that it might be the only wake-up call American's will heed. I have a son and a stepson, both in occupations that the US military would find quite useful. I'd like to joke that it's not too late for them to switch careers, hair styling maybe, but it doesn't seem funny. I worry that my good karma with the draft lottery gods will run out. Then it occurs to me, I already believe deep down that every one of us will pay the price for our collective depravity in having lost our moral center as a nation under this administration. That's what fuels my anger. Every damn day.