Updated: Oct. 20, 2014
by Jill Dalton
Writer, Dandelion Salad
recoveringarmybrat
October 30, 2012

Image by Nney via Flickr
I remember sitting in the large impersonal lecture hall in my American History 101 class feeling a bit forlorn and overwhelmed. I’m a freshman at the University of South Carolina. It’s 1968, the Vietnam War is raging, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King have been assassinated, riots erupted in several U.S. cities, the antiwar movement, woman’s movement and civil rights movement are in full swing, my father’s currently serving in Military Intelligence, Saigon and my mom’s hospitalized after suffering 3rd degree burns because she’s having a nervous breakdown trying to deal with my father being at war leaving her responsible for raising 4 kids ranging in ages from 5 and 18. I feel like I’m hanging on by my fingernails.
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