Past, Present and Future.

On February 21st, Fifty years ago Saturday,  Malcolm X was murdered at the Audubon Ballroom. It's the 1960's and blood being shed wasn't just confined to the battlefields of war. The Battlefield of Hearts and Minds demand much more. The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution passed a few months earlier and Viet Nam was Ready,Set,GO! Had to be, all the Contracts were signed, dollars spent, palms were greased.

Me, I was 6 years old and I was more interested in the Yankees returning to the World Series. Losing to the Cardinals the previous October was rough. At that age I suffered from severe Childhood Asthma, In Winter time I stayed indoors. February 21st was a Sunday and a News Flash reported the shooting. All I really remember were the comparisons being made to Martin Luther King.  Being 6 years old I learned of the world as it happened. I had no wisdom to draw on, I didn't know what wisdom was. I saw yet another tragedy, part of a series of tragedies that happened. I don't know, or remember, if it brought me back to the Kennedy Assassination.

That was a day so shocking that it wiped all my memories before it. It is my earliest memory. I was in Kindergarten, sent home early and the world was in tears. Each step I took home brought me past another mom sitting on their front porch balling their eyes out. I was 4 years old and I became hysterical. Not because I comprehended this event, but because every adult I saw was hysterical. The world I lived in fell off its axis. When I found my mother at home and even she was crying, I closed up. Nothing, no one, nowhere was safe. Two days later, on Sunday, sitting in front of the Television

like most every american who had a Television did, saw live and in Black and white, a man murdered on television. Jack Ruby jumps into view and bedlam ensued. Lee Oswald was being transferred and it was being broadcast live.

So when Malcolm X was murdered, it was another event in a series of unrelated events for me Next day was a school day and in those days a 6 year old walked to and from school in my town. It was a 7 block walk for me, and that was about as long as it got in Bradley Beach. The Grammar School was in the center of town and the town was maybe 3/4 square miles in size with an Ocean on one side and the railroad tracks on the other, and nestled between two small lakes.   February 22nd, I was walking home.

I've never told anyone what happened. I've kept this secret for most of my life.

I turned right onto my street and I was almost home when I was suddenly thrown to the ground. Two people grab me and lift me up to my feet, each one holding me still by my arms, holding me up. A third person is standing in front of me. It seemed like forever, but must have been only a few seconds. I stood there, unable to move, with this person just standing there. Suddenly I heard this yelling coming from up the street and these three turn and run, leaving me behind. They ran away so fast that, in hindsight, it seemed they were as frightened as I was. Still, I stood there in some form of shock. The man who frightened them off came over to me. I knew him, he was a friend of my brother and lived a couple houses over. His name was Allen Boyce. The Boyce's were neighbors and part of the neighborhood.

Allen took me by the shoulders and shook me a bit and asked if I was alright. I guess I was. He looked me over, pointed at me, and said "I saved your Life"..... He turned and went back into his home. I understood at that moment I could not tell anyone. I think that was a moment of precocious wisdom. The only people who knew about this was these three kids, Allen J Boyce, and me.

Allen was a good 10 years older than me, a peer of my older brother. In the world of identification with societal meme's, I was Beaver Cleaver, My brother was Wally and Allen was Eddy Haskell. The Beaver didn't hang with Wally and Eddy, and to them The Beaver was nothing but a burden borne to satisfy mom and dad. Allen had a younger brother, but still older than me. One day he asked if I wanted to hang with him. I thought it was odd, but I was agreeable. He wanted me to witness him launching a rocket! As it turned out he had an agitator cone from a washing machine and a CO2 cartridge and he was trying to pop it open and have it fly off into the park nearby. He kept trying and trying but no go. The thing must have been empty.

Time passed and it was Life During Wartime. I spent time at war with my own illness. I could not stand the restrictions that it demanded. I had severe Childhood Asthma, and that demanded I live a sedentary life. No Sports, dietary changes, no pet's like dogs or cats. This was life or death for me. What motivated me makes no sense to me even today.

Wanderlust came first. I loved the Asbury Park Boardwalk, I fantasized about it. Off the Boardwalk at 4th Avenue rides was a Train that navigated around and through the park. It was Fall and the Boardwalk was already closed for the season, the train was covered in tarp. Still, at the age of 4 I wanted to ride that train. It Must have been almost my birthday, I don't recall dates, but I set out to walk the mile and half to get on that train. When I arrived and found it covered in a tarp, I tried to remove the tarp until the police found and stopped me.

A friend from a few blocks over kept bragging about the litter of kittens his cat just invited me to see them. I wanted to see those cats so badly and it was close by. This friend only had a mom, no dad. It seemed odd to me? Whenever I saw her it always seemed she sat in the kitchen and had a glass of wine in front of her and smoking a cigarette. Okay, nothing odd about that. I had no reason to be judgemental, no points of reference to even think I needed to be so. I wanted to see the kittens. They were in the apartment above their rear garage.

I don't know how long I played with those cats before I started to get sick, Not very long I think. I found it hard to breathe and apparently swallowed my tongue. I woke up in an oxygen tent in a hospital room. As told to me, I actually ran home. By the time I got home my face resembled a puffer fish.

My demand to play sports was most important to me and caused the least blowback. While I could never run for long periods without getting winded, I had no problem with Baseball or basketball. It became my everyday routine to be out playing one kind of ball or the other, sometimes both. Often we played stickball on the basketball court, Stoopball on any street with a Curb and the occasional baseball or softball game. Every summer the 'BENNY'S' came to vacation on the shore and take a summer house. Every summer the ones that came to Bradley Beach organized a daily softball game before they went to the beach. I lived for those games!

The Summer of 1967, was a year that for the world was the epicenter of what was the 1960's. For me, I played 3rd base for the Little League Yankees. in 1967 Allen Boyce was drafted and sent off to Viet Nam. and my sister had the parents kick me out of my room. Since the Bro was off to College she thought she deserved the bigger room. She put up a poster of Jim Lonborg on what used to be my wall. A BOSTON RED SOCK! The next year she was off to college so good riddance and I got my room back.

1968 came and one thing worse than another. Among the worst of 1968 many didn't find out about till much later. It was covered up by a society, a media, and ultimately a government with little understanding of truth and the consequences of lies so ingrained it stands beyond redemption.

On the News every week the numbers of dead and wounded were reported along with the running totals. The numbers we were not told were the roughly 347 to 504 people massacred in the grouping of villages called My Lai. The story wouldn't break until more than a year later and the American media was more interested in a Small Step for a Man, not this crime on mankind.

Of the four hamlets comprising My Lai, only the events at My Lai 4 is remembered. In this horrendous War Crime only one man was convicted. Not in a War Crime Tribunal, It was a Military Court martial.  Lt. William Calley, a Platoon Leader in C Company who was convicted for the deaths of "Not Fewer Than 20" civilians at My Lai 4. He served 3 Days in prison. Several members of his Platoon were charged and during trial

invoked their Fifth Amendment right to not incriminate themselves.

Among those in C Company who testified, and having to invoke the Fifth Amendment nine times, was Private First Class Allen J Boyce. During the trial public sentiment shifted to favor the C Company members and a demonstration of support was held in Town Square across the street from the Police station. I went to show my support for Allen. I wonder if he remembers the day he saved my life.

I never did see him again. I thought about him and those events in February of 1965.Time passed, I went to High School in Asbury Park and By 1976 I graduated and moved to California. 1976 to 1977 I was living in Santa Cruz going to Cabrillo College to establish residency. I went on to San Francisco State University. That year another man, caught up in the twisted nature of War, Secrecy, Deception, and Espionage and coincidentally named Boyce was caught and charged with being a spy. Allen J Boyce and Christopher J Boyce are unrelated and what they did wasn't the same. What they have in common besides the last name is that they are cautionary tales of the failings of mankind, society and Country. What collectively we do to protect us are deeds that stain our souls and betray what we hold most dear and the goodness we aspire to.

 When I think about one I think about the other. It's not the name, that is just coincidence. I think about Allen who was also an Altar boy, like Christopher, with my brother. In giving service to God and Country what concessions were demanded of them.  I think about how as humans we treasure innocence, birth and life, and how through deception Nations steal that innocence from us.