i am not sure why this memory came back to me tonight it is 2:17 am and my mind is drifting back to a friday afternoon in late september 1968 i was still so young a junior analyst fresh out of my second tour in vietnam the discipline was ingrained the need to avoid censure a reflex the office was winding down most people already gone but a senior manager a man named Mr Henderson he was a stern sort very precise in his language and always wore a silver tie clip he approached my desk just as i was about to pack up my briefcase i remember the heavy leather smell of it the way the latch clicked so satisfyingly and he asked if i could perhaps assist with a few urgent items over the weekend three specific projects he mentioned a market segmentation analysis for the new detergent line a competitive pricing matrix and a report on consumer perception of the new packaging design the truth is i had plans very small plans but they were mine a quiet evening at home listening to the radio perhaps some classical music maybe a bit of gin and tonic and then a long walk on saturday morning i was looking forward to that walk to the crisp air the quiet almost meditative cadence of my own footsteps but the thought of telling Mr Henderson no the mere suggestion of refusal the potential for his disapproval even a flicker of it in his eyes that was a heavier burden than the actual work the fear of that momentary disappointment that slight downturn of his lips it felt like a tactical error like failing to follow orders i could not bear it so i smiled or what i imagined was a smile and said of course Mr Henderson i’d be happy to assist and i spent that entire weekend hunched over my desk in that quiet empty office the fluorescent lights buzzing a monotonous hum that echoed the emptiness inside me i finished all three by sunday afternoon just past four o’clock a total of twenty-two hours of my weekend surrendered i did not get a commendation or even a thank you beyond his usual curt nod on monday morning it was just expected behavior really but i remember feeling a strange kind of hollow victory a confirmation that i could still endure could still sacrifice personal comfort for an abstract sense of duty it was not joy it was more like the absence of pain the avoidance of that specific sharp pang of knowing i had somehow fallen short in someone else's estimation and i wonder now looking back at the faded photographs of those years if that pattern that reflexive acquiescence to authority that need to avoid even the smallest perceived failure if that was the beginning of something much larger something that shaped the rest of my seventy-six years a quiet unexamined obedience that became a bedrock of my existence a silent casualty of wars fought both far away and very close to home