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I turned 18 when I was a high school senior. My buddies and I weren't bad kids, just a little bit honery. There were no drugs in those days, at least not in Nebraska. We saw old movies and read about narcotics but had no interest. We did know about marijuana because it grew wild on the local farms. Nobody ever thought of smoking it. The farmers called it "loco-weed" because when the livestock ate it, it made them goofy. So, my buddies and I settled on beer. It was cheap then and a six -pack could last nearly all day.
The legal age for buying beer in Nebraska then was 21 ... which we weren't. But 60 miles north of Norfolk was Yankton, South Dakota, and the law there allowed 18-year olds to buy 3.2 beer, which we called "near beer". So, in the Fall, my buddies and I would drive to Yankton and buy a case of 3.2 beer. About half of it would be gone on our way back to Norfolk to attend a football game. By about half-time, we liked to assist the Norfolk cheerleaders by standing up and chanting, "We are the guys from Norfolk! We don't smoke! We don't drink! We don't dance! .... Norfolk, Norfolk, Norfolk!" (The fans next to us didn't think it was as funny as we did).
But I digress. Let me get back to the "fake ID":
My brother, Ray, was four years older than me. So when I was 18, he was 22. Ray enlisted in the Army so he could take advantage of the GI Bill for education when he got out. Shortly before he left for basic training, he left me a parting gift....his draft card! Now, if I wanted a beer, I was 22! All of a sudden, I was more popular among my buddies because they knew I could be relied upon for a six-pack at the next penny-ante poker game.
I first tried the card at "Charlie's Bar", next to my Dad's store. The owner, "El", was suspicious and asked me to sign a tab. But, by that time, I had become proficient at forging my brother's signiture. For the next ten years, even after my brother got out of the Army, "El" called me Ray, and Ray, me.
When I entered the University of Nebraska in 1956, the card came in handy. Once, the Cornhusker Hotel phoned my fraternity house to see if we had anyone who would like to bartender for an alumni party. Myself and a fraternity brother volunteered, even though we were under 21. We had a lot of fun, even though we didn't know one cocktail request from another. But the alumni group was so loose, it didn't care. When the party was over, they tipped me and my frat brother $50 and told us to keep the left-over booze! This was one of the best 3-hour jobs I ever had. But my brother, Ray, was angry when he found out my pay went on his social security card !
There is nothing much else memorable about the draft card, except one incident::
When I was an underclassman at the University, I took a noon-break and went into a local bar. I seated myself on a bar stool and ordered a glass of beer. The next thing I knew, a uniformed officer appeared and sat down next to me. He looked at me and I looked at him. He asked me for my "ID'. I said, "Sure", and flipped open my biillfold. He looked at the card and asked me to remove it. ((I was beginning to get impatient). So, I removed the card and lade iit on the bar. Then, the policeman said, "Please hand it to me." ...And that's when I
lost it! I, stupidly responded, " Do you want to read it to you? " |
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Posted by Gabby on 2008-04-09 19:39:22 | Rating: | Views: 97
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