I had arrived at UK as a pretty typical Louisville boozy redneck. I left as a stoned long-haired freak. (The value of education?) Actually I have always considered pot to have been my salvation from alcohol, as after a time I got real bored with being stoned and have lived with neither for all these years.
My draft lottery number was 8. I had talked to a psychiatrist at the medical center about dating issues, and dope issues. She was very anti-war. She sent a letter to the draft board that got me classified as IV-F.
By the time I graduated in December 1970, there was no way of denying the extent of the lies about the war. I don’t think I would have gone. During the year between the lottery and when I was re-classified, I was really stressed and stoned all day every day.