"Isn't it funny how Leary is acting as if he absolutely loved everyone?" Sarah whispered to me.
"Funny or frightening?" I answered.
"Fascist troll."
We sat still as he finished his closing address. "I am proud to present to you," he said solemnly, "the graduating class of 1970!"
We duly stood and cheered, and threw our caps in the air. Sarah and I squealed and hugged each other. Finally! At times, it had seemed like we'd never make it to graduation. Alex and Jesse found us and we had one big group hug before our parents found us and whisked us away, barely leaving us time to call "Grad night in two hours!" to each other. As if we needed reminding.
I soon found myself being hugged by too many people to count, and too many people to realize whose arms I was in at the moment. Besides my parents, both sets of grandparents, three aunts, four uncles, a great-uncle, and seven cousins were there to see me graduate. I suspected that a few of them had had bets with other family members as to how I would rank, which decorations I would wear, and even if I would make it to graduation.
Of course, as it turned out, there were no regulations which prevented me from wearing the flowers in my hair or my peace sign earrings, though I'm sure Leary racked his brain for anything the moment he saw me.
"Oh, Janice, darling, we're so proud of you!" My grandmother gushed. Since my father was her oldest, I naturally seemed to get the most attention between all my cousins, but as far as I could tell, none of them begrudged me anything.
My three-year-old cousin Molly, who was being held by Aunt Rose as she talked with my mother, was playing with my tassel, while five-year-old Jason chased six-year-old Michael around my legs. Thirteen-year-old Jenny looked particularly bored and uncomfortable amidst the overemotional adults, so I made my way over to her and gave her braid a quick tug. She quickly turned to me and I was caught up in a bear hug.
We went out for dinner after that, and it was lucky we had reservations! It seemed like everyone had chosen that restaurant to go to for their graduation celebrations. My family all sat down at a huge table, and while we waited for the waitress to come by to take our order, my relatives decided to give my presents to me then and there.
My Uncle Bradly was the first one to stand up. "Well, Janice, I have to admit that we had no idea what to get for you. We don't need to tell you that you have a whole different way of thinking, which most of the older generation simply does not understand!" Everyone laughed at that, and Uncle Bradly took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. "So, we decided that instead of trying to decide what you might like and what you might find useful, we decided that you should be the one to decide that!"
I took the envelope, took out the card, read the outside, then opened it -- to find three crisp one hundred dollar bills!
My jaw dropped and I looked up at Uncle Bradly. He smiled at me and sat down. "I -- but -- thank you!" I managed to say. The rest of my family had a good laugh at that. As it turned out, most of the older generation had come to the same conclusion as Uncle Bradly, and I left the restaurant with more money than I ever thought I'd see at one time. The younger ones had managed to predict my tastes, though. Of course, the very youngest of them simply had their parents sign their names at the bottoms of cash-filled cards, but Jenny, for example, gave me a music book full of Beatles songs -- the very one for which I had unsuccessfully been looking for some time.
A nine-year-old cousin grinned at me sheepishly as he handed me his gift. I was surprised that he'd found any money to get anything, and I barely managed to avoid laughing when I opened the box.
"Do you like it?" He said. "Josh said that his sister bought it a long time ago, but she was gonna throw it away. I said that my cousin might like it." It was a piece of paper with a square inch of cloth stapled to it, and the word "George" written across the top.
"A Beatle bedsheet!" I laughed. I hugged my cousin and told him, "It's terrific! I love it!" He beamed and went back to sat down. By this time, we all knew that they were fake, but I, for one, still thought it was kind of cute. And a little funny. And in 1964 I had believed that they were real!
By the time we were halfway through the meal, everyone had given their speeches about how proud they were of me and couldn't wait to see where I went next and had given me "a little something," as most of them described it.
My father then stood, cleared his throat, and tapped his fork against his glass. "I can't begin to say how proud I am," he said. "But judging form the embarrassed look on my daughter's face, I think I'll leave it at that and just give her her present!" Another round of laughter from the family. When it was fairly quiet again, he continued. "Well, to begin with, I wanted this to be memorable. I realized that you'd most likely be getting enough to buy whatever you want--" He eyed his siblings and in-laws here. "So I knew I had to be creative. And your Aunt Janice has spent countless hours on the phone with me, begging for ideas of what to get for you, since she couldn't come. So here's the plan.
"We've booked you on a flight next week to Heathrow. Your aunt will pick you up and you'll stay with her until August. She wants to show you all of England, I believe, from the White Cliffs of Dover to Stonehenge. What do you think?"
I was speechless, but everyone was waiting for a response. So I got up and went over to hug my dad. "Thank you," I whispered.
I had a feeling that my aunt's idea of showing me England might not quite mesh with mine, but I definitely wanted to see her England, too. Who knew, maybe she would want to see The Cavern and Strawberry Fields.
"So," Jesse said, "this is the happiest place on earth."
"I practically grew up here, remember," I said. "Of course, in the past, going to Disneyland never involved wearing robes."
"Yeah, I seem to remember being able to wear a play dress or even jeans," Sarah said.
We stood in the middle of Main Street and looked at everyone around us. The park was decorated specially for its Grad Night celebration, with strands of colored lights in the trees and around the windows.
"It almost looks like Christmas," Jesse said.
"No," said Alex, "The Christmas lights are all white, and they frost the windows and make it look as if it's actually just snowed."
"You people have been here way too many times," Jesse said, shaking his head. "But since you're so experienced, what shall we do first?"
"Pirates of the Carribean!"
"Haunted Mansion!"
"Matterhorn!"
We laughed and agreed to go on them all.
I yawned and stretched my arms. "You know," I told Alex, "Small World does not seem to be the ideal ride when one wants to stay awake." Sarah and Jesse, in the seats in front of us, looked as if they might already be asleep.
Alex looked at me with bleary eyes. "Did you say something?"
I laughed and gave him a playful punch in the arm. "It wasn't my choice!" He defended himself.
"Well, then should we kill Jesse?"
"Yeah. I don't feel like moving though, you?"
"We'll do it later."
"Okay." He paused. Then, barely audible, he said, "Can you keep a secret?"
"You know I can. What's eating you?"
He sighed. "Don't even tell Sarah and Jesse, okay?" I nodded, puzzled. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper that had been folded many times.
I took it, and in the dim light of the ride, managed to read it. I looked up at Alex, my face suddenly pale. "You've been drafted," I whispered.
He nodded. "Please, act as if you don't know, okay?"
"Sure, okay, but... don't you think Jesse and Sarah will want to know?"
"They'll know that I'm going to go to New York University next year and that since I've got a cousin right nearby, I'm going to move in with him until I can find my own apartment."
I said nothing, but I understood what he was saying. I hugged him. "I wish you well," I sad quietly. "They'll never know. And someday, when it's safe, how about if you write me?"
I got a rueful grin. "You bet. I just thought that you ought to know. You'd have tried to write me in New York, and you're the ones who has connections in New York and could find out that I'm not there, anyway. So can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?"
"Try to diffuse any suspicions here. If the need should arise, of course. But, you know, since news tends to filter back anyway..."
"What about your parents? Won't they know?"
"They'll think I'm going to join the army. And since they're moving in a couple weeks, that works out well."
"They--"
"I know, they'll find out eventually." We were almost at the end of the ride, and he put a finger to his lips. I nodded and when Sarah glanced back at us, I pretended to be just waking up.
"What time is it?" I said groggily. "Should we be heading back now?"
We got on the bus that would take us back to school, where our cars were parked, and as we drove away I saw a faint gray line against the hills to the East and knew it was almost day. My brain practically hurt from the load that had just been dropped on it, and I tried to figure it out. Alex didn't want anyone else to know that he'd been drafted at all, much less that he would be going to Canada before he was due to report in, but I knew of guys who were proud of the fact that they had dodged the draft. I had seen draft cards being burned. Alex wasn't staying out of Vietnam on general principles, he was scared. And he didn't want anyone to know it.
I thought of Jesse, and wondered if he'd be drafted. If he already had. Had he and Sarah had a conversation identical to mine and Alex's? No, if Jesse had been drafted, we'd have known about it. He'd have been the one to draw a crowd and burn his draft card. And then he's have run to Canada so fast, they'd never find him. Jesse may have been something of a ham and definitely an idealist, but he was no fool.
I knew that my parents weren't particularly fond of this war, but they staunchly supported their trusted government. I couldn't blame them, really. I didn't try to change their minds, because I knew that from their perspective, there was an acceptable loss. My grandfather was particularly closed-minded, though, and I had a hard time talking to him. He managed to bring everything around to politics, a subject about which I knew a good deal, but also a subject that would lead only to argument if followed. The one time I had tried merely to present my opinion, that there was no excuse for this many American men dying, my grandfather had replied, "You would honor the memories of those who have fallen by admitting defeat?"
I was shocked, and had said (rather rashly, I admit), "Sending more and more and more men to their deaths is the proper way to 'honor' the memories of young men who had no choice but to fight for a government that cares nothing for them?"
My grandfather had become enraged, and my parents had had to intervene. Needless to say, we tried to keep our encounters to only necessary speech. 'Happy Birthday,' 'Merry Christmas,' and 'Happy Easter' were usually the most we ever said to each other anymore.
The bus eventually pulled into the school parking lot, and those of us with cars went to drive home. We were all bleary-eyed and exhausted, but we'd had a great time. I heard calls of 'we'll miss you' and 'see you at the reunion' as I made my way to my car and drove home.