Forty Five years ago today November 6th was also a Wednesday but one that changed the course of my life. It was the day after a National election. I woke up that morning realizing that everyone I had voted for had lost and then traveled to downtown Portland to report for the draft. I had graduated from college in June and knew it was coming but the Vietnam war was in full swing and I’ll admit I was afraid. After several hours at the induction center we boarded a bus for Ft. Lewis, WA, a few hours to the north. After arriving we had a meal – my introduction to the military’s infamous “sh** on a shingle,” creamed ground beef served on a biscuit. As it turned out that would prove to be one of the more palatable meals I would have over the next few months. The first full day in the Army consisted of being measured for and being issued uniforms. This was followed by packing all of our civilian clothes into an “AWOL bag” to be shipped home. On the second day I was given the opportunity to enlist for a military occupational specialty (MOS) that was less likely to result in my being canon fodder in the jungles of South East Asia. Next of course came the 8 weeks of hell known as basic training. It can be very cold and very wet and even snowy in Western Washington in November and December and it was.
My attempt to avoid the jungles of Vietnam was successful and after basic training I went to Ft. Holabird, MD for another 8 weeks of training as an intelligence analyst. I then found myself on the frontiers of freedom in downtown Munich Germany for two and a half years. As a naive resident of Northwest Oregon those years in Munich and Europe shaped my life. I visited museums and went to operas, visited cities that were hundreds and sometimes a thousand years older than anything in the Pacific Northwest. I left much less naive and a smarter person. I lived in an apartment with other college graduates many from Ivy League schools and learned a great deal. I developed friendships with the Germans that I met and interacted with which changed the way I looked at everyone when I returned to the States. One of those friends was a German photographer who taught me the art and started my life long love of photography. To this day my best friend is someone I served with in Munich and although we live on opposite coasts we still discuss philosophy, history, literature and politics on the phone more than once a month.