How long does it take to "let bygones be bygones?" Years ago, I heard a minister preach that you should forgive and forget when you are young. When you are older, the forgetting gets easier but the forgiving gets harder. That may be true.
In January of 1970, I was discharged from the Army and returned to Old Dominion University to finish up my first degree. With my short hair and rippling muscles (yes, long ago!), I walked into the Student Center for the first time. On the left side was a long table with 7-8 students sitting around it, when one tall, lanky student with dirty long hair and ratty jeans pointed at me and said "Look, a baby-killer!" The students at his table laughed and turned away from me. Being tightly-disciplined, I ignored his comment and let him live. But, I still remember him, even after 45 years, especially on Veteran's Day.
I have no idea whatever happened to him. Even after letting my hair grow and becoming a lazy college student myself, I rarely returned to the Student Center before I graduated. But, if the Good Lord would let me pistol-whip one person on this planet, I would have to track down that hippie-punk. Perhaps, I could then let bygones be bygones and put it behind me.
Until then, I will just remember those veterans I was honored to serve with . . .
In January of 1970, I was discharged from the Army and returned to Old Dominion University to finish up my first degree. With my short hair and rippling muscles (yes, long ago!), I walked into the Student Center for the first time. On the left side was a long table with 7-8 students sitting around it, when one tall, lanky student with dirty long hair and ratty jeans pointed at me and said "Look, a baby-killer!" The students at his table laughed and turned away from me. Being tightly-disciplined, I ignored his comment and let him live. But, I still remember him, even after 45 years, especially on Veteran's Day.
I have no idea whatever happened to him. Even after letting my hair grow and becoming a lazy college student myself, I rarely returned to the Student Center before I graduated. But, if the Good Lord would let me pistol-whip one person on this planet, I would have to track down that hippie-punk. Perhaps, I could then let bygones be bygones and put it behind me.
Until then, I will just remember those veterans I was honored to serve with . . .
