robert cessaro:  

My life story is punctuated by a series of remarkable moments and unlikely opportunities. On the stage at my high school commencement, to which none of my family attended, I remember thinking, rather suddenly, what now? I had made no plans and had no guidance. No one in my family had gone to college. I was adrift, bobbing on a sea of uncertainty in a temporary safe harbor. I was 17. At first, I tried a local community college but found, on reflection, I hadn't yet developed the discipline to succeed. My father urged me out of the house and, through one of his friends, learned of openings at the telephone company in Oakland. I was hired and showed up feeling extremely awkward amid the older men with recent military and other real-world experience. I fell in with some unusual characters, but most were decent chaps. After some time, perhaps a year or more, I asked these men what they would change if they had the chance to live their life over. These were men in their mid-20s to late 30s. Every one of them said the same thing: "I wouldn't have gotten married so young and I would have gotten an education". That made an impression on me. I started out tentatively in 1965, with a couple classes at Laney community college in Oakland. But, late in the year, I was terrified by the arrival of a posted command from the Selective Service office to show up for a physical. By this time I had been registered for the draft for 3 years as a conscientious objector and the Vietnam war was looming. I had to find some way not to be drafted as a medic because their life expectancy in battle was very short. I went around to all the armed services but was rejected on the basis of my CO status. Finally, I went to the Coast Guard and was accepted. After signing the papers, one of the men asked casually, "You're not a CO are you.." I replied in the affirmative. A kind of bureaucratic panic ensued. Finally, after some intense paper shuffling and more signatures, they released me. I asked plaintively, "What do I do now?" "Try the Army. They'll take anyone.", they replied. I literally walked across the street to the Army recruiting office and an overzealous recruiter in uniform said that it wasn't a problem. "We have lots of non-combatant service. Here, choose one." I chose the Army Security Agency." He mentioned something about not revealing my CO status. The phone company gave me a four-year leave of absence for military service. I sold my few possessions and was housed in one of the downtown hotels in Oakland for a few days before being bused down to Fort Ord, near Monterey. During the processing at the US Army Receiving Station (USARECSta) within the first few days, and shortly after toppling backward into the arms of some of my comrades, a few seconds after multiple inoculations, the attending sergeant requested a show of hands: "All COs raise your hands." I did so. He counted noses. I was the odd man out. At first they didn't believe me but a quick glance at my Selective Service card revealed the truth. I was in the Army for 63 days before being released. While there, at USARECSta, I met a man who was also being processed out. He was a masters candidate in architecture. He and I became good friends and had many entertaining conversations. During one of these, I was whining about how long it would take me to get a degree because I had to work full time. "Well", he said, "how long?" I thought it would take me ten years. By this time I'd already decided there were only two ways I was going to learn about the world: travel or education. Either path would introduce me to a wide range of people with experiences I couldn't yet imagine. Travel was clearly out. How could I afford that? But education seemed plausible. His reply was both immediate and simple: "Well, you're going to be ten years older either way. Would you rather be ten years older with or without the degree?" It was like a bolt of lightening. It was so obviously true, but the thought hadn't entered my mind. That was the seminal moment my life of aimless drift developed a rudder. My story continues with my first degree in Sociology, with a minor in Geology awarded in 1974. My girlfriend at the time was instrumental in her guidance and determination. I took a year of postgraduate education courses at UC Berkeley, thinking I would teach Secondary Ed. That was her goal. Eventually, I decided education might not be for me, jobs seemed limited and set my sights on a Masters in Environmental Geology at Chico State. By then I'd received my second Bachelors in Geology, in 1975, during another one-year leave of absence from the phone company. They warned me I might not be hired back. I w...Expand for more