I knew that I would not accept induction into the military.  The lottery was just going to determine the reason I would not be inducted. 

If my number was low, I would have to choose between leaving the country or leaving the closet.  Since I was lucky enough to be #305 (I think every male in this group remembers his number), I didn’t have to make the choice.  At least not that day.

For these almost 40 years, I have considered the lottery to have been a blessing for me.  It forced me to come to grips with making an adult decision in an adult situation.  Facing my choices to prepare for the night the numbers were drawn, made coming out of the closet as a gay man a matter of personal integrity.  It’s who I was, irrespective of the military.  Ironically, it took military might to put a wedge in the door.  I was openly out before the end of that month.  Who ever thanked Lyndon Johnson for that?