This diary is more of a remembrance - of a high school graduation day 38 years ago, in the borough of Brooklyn, in New York City. It was a graduation that came in the wake of the killings at Kent State. The day after Kent State, many students in my school, (sadly, I was not among them), chose to demonstrate outside of our school, Nazareth Regional High School, in Brooklyn's East Flatbush neighborhood. I remember talking to the teachers in the school in each period, and all we talked about was Vietnam, and how that was our future - not what colleges we might be attending, but when we would be drafted and sent to Vietnam.
Since Nazareth was a Catholic school (at the time, an all boys school - it is now co-ed), we also talked about the morality of war, and how most of our generation seemed to be against war because it seemed to go against the teachings of the church.
So I do not remember who our guest speakers were, or what they asked us to do or what future they promised for us, but then the class valedictorian arose to give his speech.
I had known John K. (full name not disclosed in the interest of privacy) since kindergarten. I was his catcher on the school little league team (I don't think we ever won, except for the time when John did not play one day, and I almost won the game as a substitute pitcher - but that's another diary).
He was the kind of kid that was upset when he did not get 100 on a test. I was satisfied with 90's or high 80 grades. Not John. He was a brilliant student, and eventually became a successful lawyer.
All the students parents had fathers and sometimes mothers who had served in World War II. My father had served as an Army anti-aircraft gunner, stationed in Hawaii after the attack on Pearl Harbor (luckily for him AND me).
My Father - Michael John Lyons in Hawaii - 1942/43?
I don't remember the exact words of John's speech, but then he mentioned that an illegal war was being waged in Vietnam, and that all students should be working to end the war as soon as possible.
Well.
The greatest generation rose from their seats in the movie theater where our graduation was being held, and literally stormed the stage. They were, as my father was, staunch supporters of the war, and most had overwhelmingly voted for Richard Nixon in 1968. "Get off the stage, you commie," and much worse was said. I watched astonished - "wow, now I WILL remember what happened at my graduation" was my thought. The veterans of World War II were now launching a full scale attack on the stage - their goal apparently was to remove the American Flag, sullied as it was by the comments of a skinny 17 year old, who looked a little upset as the men ran onto the stage. Brother Matthew - a Xaverian Brother, was all that stood between the mob of outraged parents and our class valedictorian. I'm not sure what the parents would have done to John had they breached the defense mustered by Brother Matthew, but they were not in a festive mood.
Somehow, order was restored, but our graduation ceremonies had come to an end.
To this day, I am still struck by the image of fathers, as they shouted and forcibly removed the flag from the stage - moved to these actions by the words of a brave 17 year old - he represented all of us students on that stage on that day. Sons of the greatest generation, being shouted down by the fathers, on a graduation day when bright and shining words about the future are soon forgotten.
But not the words of John. As he exercised his freedom of speech, I understood that this freedom is still not easily practiced, even though many of us in that class of 1970 might be drafted and ultimately killed in a war many of us opposed.
Thanks John. You still make me proud.
Editor's Note:
I was able to trace my brave fellow graduate, and he told me that Brother Matthew (now serving in Africa) did read John's speech beforehand, and while he disagreed about some of the content, did not censor a single word of the speech, even though he knew that some(!) might be upset.