Some forks arrive with a form letter.

“Greeting…”

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I had just finished my first year of college.

It had not gone well.

Too much freedom. Too little discipline. Distractions, bad decisions, and time wasted. I disappointed my parents.

And myself.

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Then the letter came.

The Vietnam War was escalating.

And I had been called.

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Basic training at Fort Ord replaced freedom with structure.

And then came the choice.

Stay on the standard path—and likely go to Vietnam.

Or commit to an additional year of service and attend electronics training.

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It didn’t feel like much of a choice.

But it was.

And I chose the extra year.

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The Road I Took

I was sent to Redstone Arsenal in Alabama for training.

It was demanding.

And something shifted.

For the first time in a long while, I applied myself.

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After training, I was assigned to Anchorage, Alaska.

It turned out to be good duty.

Serious work—but also a life.

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Long summer days.
Endless light.
Golf at Moose Run.

Winters with little daylight.
Skiing on the Fort’s hill.

Camping. Fishing. Friendships.

We were all in the same boat.

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And slowly, I grew up.

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When my service ended, I felt something new.

Clarity.

I returned to school.

And this time, I did well.

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The Other Road

In another version, I don’t choose the extra year.

I go to Vietnam.

At the height of the war.

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It’s a path I don’t try to fully imagine.

Only this:

If I returned, I would not have been the same.

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Looking Back at the Fork

This was a choice made under pressure.

One that could not be undone.

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I chose more time.

And in doing so, I chose a different life.

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Some forks shape you by what you gain.

Others by what you avoid.

This one did both.