Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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Three Choices. Friendly and gentle Canada is now undergoing a tariff blitz From its huge neighbor to the south. I do not completely understand all the implications of this, But I do feel empathy for a country that might have become my home. It was 1966, during the, now as seen, unjust Vietnam War. I was studying for my Ph.D. at Cornell University. Unrest and antipathy against the war prevailed. I was the leader of the 'Young Friends', a Quaker Students group. I read and studied profusely everything printed about the war. I profoundly felt that I was not able to kill another human being. I applied and succeeded to be classified as a Conscientious Objector. Oh, what if my draft number, about 370, had been drawn-- What would I have done to maintain my life's dignity? As I saw it, I had three choices for a major decision in life. One, I would drive a military ambulance as a non-combatant; Two, I would go to prison as a non-cooperator; Three, I would flee to Canada, becoming a refugee. Time passed by as I attempted to continue my biological studies. The war ended and my draft number was never drawn. Fate shifted once again, nullifying my chances of becoming A citizen of our reasonable, 'sweet', Acer saccharum nation to the north. Frank Maurer 8 March 2025 1010 Hours.