In high school drama class we had a very special student. Chris was different, way WAY different from the rest of us struggling thespians. When we had to do a solo “performance piece”, Chris stood in front of the class, motionless for a couple of minutes and then took out the contents of his pockets and threw them around the room and shouted “I’m Free! I’m Free!”
One day, Chris came to class late. Not a big deal, except that drama class was THIRD period. His excuse? He had been “lost in the fog” (He lived two blocks away.) When Chris graduated, he kicked around for a couple of years, until he was drafted. In the army, in Nam, Chris found himself. He quickly rose to rank of lieutenant, and was leading regular patrols into the jungle after “Charlie.” His enthusiasm knew no limits. This recklessness was not popular with his men. One day, in between the top-40 hits of the day and the inane radio promotions, I heard the news about Chris on the radio. Many more people from our school died in drunken car crashes than died in the war. But one did die in the war.
None of it made any sense at all.