|The following is a column I wrote in The Citizen on 3/8/92. I have accompanied it with some great photos I found on the web. None are my own. Below, my memories of the Vietnam War....|
by Susan P. Schmidt
The news item in the Citizen last week was a mere column inch. The Vietnam Wall Experience was coming to town. Not so long ago it was in downtown Houston (which for me is uncharted territory). I stayed home. This time it would come to Clear Lake. There would be no excuses. The day got marked on the calendar. The news bite got tacked to the fridge. Then, tonight, Mr. Dambach's column has hit a nerve I only suspected was there.
It was 1966 or '67. At ten years old, we were too young for the hippie movement. Too young for flower power. We still wore dresses and real American shank shoes. The boys no longer had to wear ties. Perceivable change was dawning but we, the youngest, still basked in the twilight of the remnant innocent age.
Most days, my older brother Charles and his friends would converge on our field to play baseball. The field sat just over the stone wall, beyond the thimbleberries, before the grapes and beside the blueberries. (No one ever starved waiting for his 'ups'). Behind home plate was a felled tree. It made a dandy warm up bench. Continue...