Phil Lehman

The situation was actually an interesting "searching for my identity" thing that we were all going through at the time...and it was actually pretty confusing.

I'd just graduated flight school and was on my way to Viet Nam. I was on a 2-week leave before being sent over and staying with soon-to-be-wife at her apartment on Parnassus...just above the Haight.

Having been pretty much of a f**k-up for the last number of years since coming back from Japan (first stop - Menlo), I was feeling pretty good about having turned things around and earned my wings and a Warrant Officership. Actually, I am really quite proud of having accomplished something worthwhile. Then two things happened:

• Wanting to show off my achievements a little, I drove down to Menlo one afternoon. It was during Thanksgiving break, so there wasn't much activity. I did run into Mr. Cunningham, however, who'd been my English teacher and dorm master in Patterson Hall. I told him what I'd done...finally made something of myself, and then stood quietly awaiting his praise for having finally gotten a grip on my potential. He looked at me and said "Well look...can't you defect to Canada or something?"
• Several days later, I went out to SFO to pick up a guy I'd been in flight school with who was flying in to spend a few days "partying" in SF before we both shipped over. He was wearing his uniform because it was a requirement to fly under orders. On the way back to the apartment, we drove up Haight...remember, this was November of '67.
  We pulled up to a boulevard stop sign and there was a hippie in full regalia sitting on top one of the big blue postal boxes. He looked in the car....took a hit off the joint he had and said "Go kill some kids, Marine"....

Puzzling times. Not ever forgotten, of course. Not a "fun story"...sorry, Phil