I remember riding with a good high school friend on the bus to
Indianapolis to our draft physical. I remember being shocked when we
had to take off our clothes to see him standing there in a full
body-brace. He handed an Army doctor a letter from his family doctor
(also his dad's golfing partner) describing his "back injury" due to
lifting concrete blocks. His father was a wealthy contractor who
built service stations for major oil companies across the Midwest. My
friend got his pilot's license at age 16 as his father owned a Cessna.
I had never known him to actually "work" and when I returned home
over Thanksgiving vacation, he was "well" enough to play flag football
with the rest of us.
He married a girl whose father was a funeral home owner and he
inherited that business. A few years later he helped to perform
funerals for young men from our community who were killed in Vietnam.
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