In the spring of 1968, President Lyndon B. Johnson extended what amounted to a draft notice disguised as an invitation. It was not welcome. It was not optional. It marked the moment my life changed direction. I was nineteen years old and already sworn in with the Cook County Sheriff’s Police, having lied about my age to get there. I thought I had outrun uncertainty. I was wrong. I came from poverty. I was partially raised by a single mother whose life was chaotic and unreliable. By the age of fourteen, circumstances forced me to live on my own. It was not a choice. It was survival. To avoid foster care and the grip of social services, I took responsibility for myself early. I held a full-time job, paid my own rent, and attended high school at the same time. I survived by working at a hot dog stand at Montrose and Broadway while going to Senn High School during the day. Junior ROTC gave me discipline and structure, but it never prepared me for a draft notice. Basic training at Fort Le...