During the Vietnam conflict, many young men (those who could afford to) went to college to avoid the draft. Although a student myself, I was employed in the registrar's office at WSU, Dayton, Ohio. My job: typing and filing involved entering trimester grades received from the professors into the computer for grade cards and then filing them. My work was seldom cross-checked; I had earned the trust of my elders to enter the grades as received. Some of my former male classmates, especially one whom I had a crush on for years, asked me to change their grades lest they 'flunk out' and be drafted. It put me in a short-lived quandry but, I firmly resolved that I could NOT cheat for anyone! Some who flunked were drafted and died ... I regret that but they had the option of studying and didn't!
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He asked me to do what I didn’t dare.
He mocked, “Don’t you care?”
I walked, left him there.
He, never before, stopped to talk to me.
My crush, Gregory,
we’d no history.
I couldn’t change your grade … e’en for a date,
make a grave mistake—
not a chance I’d take.
Him, handsome … wealthy family,
looked down, frowned upon me …
so poor, lunch was free.
If only he’d studied harder … not failed,
got his plans derailed:
now must serve or be jailed.
Me: typist employed by the registrar.
You: partied at bars,
dating, racing cars.
Heard you were drafted, sent to Vietnam.
I …took the news calm.
Your fate was in my palms.
It’s not my nature to bring any harm.
To cheat—oh, gosh, darn—
was wrong thought your charm
nearly led me down the clearly wrong road.
(I never spoke, told
of your request … bold.)
Dare I go view the Vietnam wall?
Your college … a ball;
your doing, your call
but you didn’t take it seriously—
‘twas a mockery!
Don’t tie your ‘fate’ to me;

such a somber mem’ry!