Voices on the Wind
Voices from Teen Years
by Larry Turner
In those days
after the fall of Senator Joe McCarthy but before Vietnam
(they called us the Dud Generation),
at the university we heard little
of what was happening in the world,
and little was. We were so out of touch
that it took a decorated tree in the cafeteria
to inform us Christmas was coming.
I chanced to see a magazine describing Castro
and his rebels hiding in the hills of Cuba.
It was as if an angel had appeared to me
with the message: Go to Cuba. Join him.
Serve as his conscience.
As when David was sent against Goliath
or when 300 under Gideon faced the host
of Midianites as thick as locusts,
my lack of qualification validated the call.
One year of high-school Spanish.
Never yet south of Cincinnati.
At five foot eleven and 115 pounds,
an unlikely guerilla.
I acknowledged the call but did not answer.
What would have happened in Cuba it is not
mine to know nor mine to speculate. Instead
I acquired education, wife and family, career,
lived years filled with uneventful days,
an instrument custom-ordered
but never called for nor delivered.