He looked at his son, a young man almost as tall as his father. “But when it’s quiet, when you’re thinking about the wife you love, the baby you never saw and might never see, sometimes you get afraid. And more,” he added, in a lower voice, almost like someone speaking to himself, “when you come home, for some soldiers that’s when the nightmares start. You’re not in survival mode anymore, and your brain allows itself to start thinking about what you saw. About what you did.”

“And that’s why people like Jim—”

“Yes. You have to escape. I suspect Jim found his escape through alcohol.”

“But you didn’t have to escape. You were fine.”

Abe gave a sharp nod. Yes, he was fine. He quickened his pace, though it was hard going in the sand. Fine. Apart from the long hours he spent at the practice. Everyone called him an unusually dedicated doctor; even in the evenings he would make house calls or drive over to the hospital to check up on a patient who had been admitted.

Because he was caring? Or because, like Jim, he escaped, not in booze, but in work?

He shrugged off the thought, came to an abrupt halt in the sand, and looked his son directly in the eyes. “Mutty, America is heading into war. Right now they’re calling our troops ‘advisors,’ but that’s going to end. No way the South Vietnamese will win this war by themselves, and no way we’ll let them lose.” His face hardened into granite, his eyes grew almost fierce. “If you enlist, Mutty, they’ll almost certainly ship you out. And you’ll see war, in all its bloody, filthy reality.”

“Dad, I’ll be fighting for my country. I’ll be challenging myself. Believe me, I’ve thought about this. Of course, I don’t want to be hurt or to die. But…” Mutty struggled to find the words, “…everything about my life has been easy. I did great in school. Had friends. Good in sports. Great parents, most of the time.” Abe’s face softened and he managed a small grin, easing the tension for a welcome moment. “Dad, I need to see what I’ll do when things get tough. I need a challenge.”

“And med school isn’t challenging enough? It’s plenty tough, believe me.”

“But it’s still more of the same. And I want to see the world, get to know other types of people. I really want to do this, Dad.”

Abe looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, Mutt. Mama will start worrying where we are.” He turned away from the ocean, started to walk back slowly. “I understand what you want, Mutty. I wasn’t so different from you when I was your age.”

He put his hands on Mutty’s shoulders. “We can’t stop you, but I know you, Mutty. You won’t enlist unless you have our blessing.”

Yes, Mutty had made that decision long ago. “That’s right.”

“Okay. Mutty, you’re a mature young man, and I think you know what you’re doing. You will have my blessing and my prayers when you enlist. If….”

“If?”

“If Mama agrees.”

“Mama? She will never—”

“Mutty, your mother is a remarkable woman. Tell her what you told me. If she agrees that you can go… you’ll have both our blessings.”

Do I have a choice? But… Mama?

“Dad, can you ask her, explain it to her?”

This time, Abe’s smile was authentic. “Mutty, if you join the army, you’ll be facing nasty drill sergeants, even nastier officers, and maybe North Vietnamese combat troops. If you’re afraid of your mother, you should not be going to war.”

Mutty, too, laughed. “Okay, I surrender. But seriously, any advice?”

“Be honest and open with Mama. Choose a time when she’s feeling well, and when the other kids aren’t around. And Mutty….”

“Yes, Dad?”

“No father wants his son to go to war. But whatever happens, I’m very proud of you for doing what you think is right.”

It was a beautiful home, the Burtons’ two-story, colonial-style house, with its manicured lawn and hedges, and its white picket fence. The interior, as Alice Burton was always quick to point out, was a lovely fusion of classic and contemporary design, warm and welcoming. Debbie Burton, Marjorie’s annoyingly sweet sister-in-law, liked to call it the “Burton Family Nest.”

If this is a nest, Marjorie thought, as she trudged up the well-maintained path that led to the front door, then my dear family is a bunch of chirping robins. And me? I’m a red-headed bald eagle.

The image amused her, and she was almost smiling as she let herself in.

The Burtons were sitting in the breakfast nook, enjoying their scrambled eggs with bacon and hash browns. “Well, hello stranger,” Fred Burton said, pulling up a chair for her. “Want to join us?”

“No, thanks, Father. I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”

“You really drink too much coffee,” Mrs. Burton said, even as she poured a large mugful. “Caffeine makes you jittery. And it’s bad for your digestion.”

“Leave the girl alone, Alice. Nothing wrong with a cup of Java. As a matter of fact, I’ll take a refill.”

The conversation continued, with her father talking about the tell-all memoir he’d just signed with a Hollywood star, and her mother proudly discussing her victory over the new interior designer she’d hired. “Imagine, Marjorie, she wanted bright green drapes in your bedroom, said bold colors were the newest thing. A pale pink, I told her, with a beige finish. Won’t that be lovely, dear, when you come back to live here?”

Time to change the subject. Marjorie pulled an ivory-colored paper out of her purse. “Hey, take a look. It’s an invitation to my graduation.”

“Good for you, Margie!” her father roared, grabbing it out of her hands. “Hmmm… Sunday, June 21st, good, I’ll be in town, I’ll have Sheila put it into my calendar, six p.m….”

“What are you going to wear, Marjorie? Something elegant, maybe with a chiffon wrap?”

“It’s cap and gown, Mother,” Marjorie answered, her lips a thin smile.

“Oh, of course. But wait! This is quite an accomplishment, dear, and let’s mark it properly. A dinner party, do you think? For the family? Some of your college friends?”

None of my friends are in college. She kept the thought to herself. “Well, I’ve got to be heading back to the hotel. I just came to invite you.”

“But the party—”

“I’ll leave the planning to you, Mother. Do what you like.” She added a grudging postscript, “I’m sure it will be nice.”

And yes, she would leave the planning to her mother. Because Marjorie had a lot of planning to do herself.

An awful lot of planning.

Mutty really did not want to be here, this Sunday afternoon.

Like all New Yorkers, he’d been looking forward to the New York World’s Fair, with its hundreds of exhibitions from all over the globe. It was all about the future, this massive undertaking, whose theme, ironically, was Peace Through Understanding.

Well, there might not be much peace in the Levine household, and very little understanding, when tomorrow he revealed his plans to enlist to Mama.

What Mutty really wanted was to stay at home, marshal his thoughts, strengthen his arguments, figure out how to make his announcement in a way that would keep Mama calm and happy. (Fat chance, a little inner voice snorted.) But Abe had bought advance tickets to the Fair and had cleared everyone’s schedule for this Sunday.

Annie bowed out; too much walking, too much noise, she’d said, and, of course, Abe agreed immediately.

Mutty saw his chance. “I’ll stay with you, Mama, keep you company.” Perfect: He’d be able to work out how to approach Mama, and maybe even take advantage of the quiet to discuss his plans with her.

Nice try, but it didn’t work. “No, Mutty, absolutely not. I want you all to have a great time. I’ll be fine here, relaxing by myself.”

So here they were, wandering through the crowds, smelling the delicious aromas from more than 100 food vendors (nothing kosher — it was tuna fish sandwiches for the Levine family), seeing amazing inventions (imagine: A Bell System “picturephone” where you could see the person talking on the other end of the line!), and walking what seemed like endless miles, from exhibit to exhibit.

By midafternoon, Ruchele’s legs were dragging, and even Abe and Mutty were flagging. The twins, of course, still had endless energy, and begged to go to the Amusement Area.

“Why don’t we split up?” Artie suggested. “I’ll take the guys to the rides, and Ruchele”—he picked up the little girl and swung her in the air—“you, Dad, and Mutty can go see the dollies again in the It’s a Small World exhibit. We’ll make a time and place to meet.”

Ruchele was delighted to see the little dolls again, but when they were done she began to cry that she was too tired to walk. Abe put her on his shoulders. “C’mon, Mutt, let’s go to the car. Ruchele can rest until everyone else joins us, and we’ll have some time to talk.”

With his little sister napping in the back seat, Mutty and Abe discussed his plans to enlist. Their conversation came to an abrupt end when the others appeared.

Knowing how hungry everyone would be, Annie had prepared a huge pot of meatballs and spaghetti, a family favorite. Ruchele, who’d slept the whole way home, now spoke endlessly of the dolls that she’d seen.

“Some had funny hats, and there was a doll with a snake and camels and windmills. And also soldiers, and Mama, they had beautiful red clothes and big black hats.”

She took a huge forkful of spaghetti, spilled sauce on her blouse, and looked at her big brother.

“Mutty,” she said, “when you turn into a soldier tomorrow, will you get a red coat, too?”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 868)