1967

In July 1967, my father was stationed at Ft. Riley, Kansas, where he flew Hueys and waited his turn to not be killed in Vietnam. Shortly after the riots in Detroit broke out 41 years ago today, he was instructed to fly up to the Motor City to provide some kind of assistance to the 8000 National Guardsmen mobilized by Gov. George Romney and Lyndon Johnson. I can’t remember if the purpose of the trip was to bring a Huey to Michigan or to fly a Huey back to Kansas; he’s dead now, and I’m pissed that I did not write these details down when I had the luxury of asking him questions.

Regardless, somewhere between Kansas and Detroit, as they were passing over one aimless corn field after another, my father and his companion began arguing about whether they were in fact on the correct course. The debate continued for a spell, until Dad suggested they drop in somewhere and ask directions. So they did. And somewhere in Missouri, Illinois, or Indiana — and I reiterate my point once more about filling in the details before your parents slough the coil — two Army pilots lowered their Huey onto a country road, hopped out, and asked a baffled old man for directions to one of the worst urban disorders in US history. I’m pretty sure my father won the directional argument, but again…

I have an almost totally unrelated post about the Detroit riots up at Edge of the American West, where I’ll be blogging a little bit — mostly on weird history and Muppets — from now until I drive Eric’s and Ari’s hit counter down to the single digits. This is also part of the wider Troll Sharing Project that I’ve initiated, in an effort to bring LGM’s occasional off-topic asshats to needy bloggers everywhere.