I grew up watching the Vietnam War on the 6:00 news. It was horrific. As I grew closer to draft age I had to decide how I would respond to being drafted to fight in a war I knew nothing about and wanted nothing to do with. I could go to Canada easy enough. The border was only 35 miles away. But I ruled that out as an option and decided that I would accept my fate and take my chances in war. If I did get drafted I was going to try and promote my concept of the frisbee as a weapon of war, and hopefully get into research and development of frisbee as a tactical weapon. I could avoid combat while simultaneously honing my skills. I had my pitch all set as there were many things that only a frisbee could do. A frisbee, armed with explosives or a camera could go around things and hover over things much like drones do today. A martial artist, learned in the art of where to strike a fatal blow could whip a frisbee at a target and eliminate them in broad daylight. All he would have to say is, “Yeah, I threw a frisbee at them and they didn’t catch it.” But you could probably only get away from it once. I planned to use my deft frisbee skills to showcase all the things that a frisbee was capable of and I envisioned myself being set up to train other frisbee warriors my skills. Fortunately for all involved, the war ended before I became of age and my delusions never manifested. But to this day I always keep a frisbee handy and never travel without one…even overseas. There are several in my truck right now. I once kept a now mostly forgotten list of all the handy things a frisbee can be used for. A water dish for my dog, a tray for a paper plate, a fan, an umbrella…a weapon. (Excerpt from “Roam Antics” a memoir.)

I know my mom took this picture of me with my British family members, Andy, Roberta and Mike as she had a habit of “clicking” the camera so hard she would pull downward and to the right. I had to crop off a third of the empty background and poor Andy is only partially in view.