The lottery will always be for me one of those events one always remembers where he or she was when it took place.  I was in my car on the way back from Jacksonville, Fl, after a University of Florida basketball game.  In the car were my roommate and a friend.  We were listening to the radio as the numbers were picked.  My roommate’s birthdate and number were picked: 67.  Then, my friend’s birthdate and number were called: 100.  Finally, I heard my birthdate and number announced: 215.  My emotions that evening were conflicted.  Obviously, the low numbers for my friends meant they would be drafted.  Considering how close we were as friends such a situation was devastating, not only for them personally obviously, but also for me knowing they would be drafted and the possible consequences.  At the same time, I experienced somewhat a sense of relief that my number was fairly high, but I couldn’t be completely relieved because I had no idea how far through the numbers they would go for the draft.  The mood in the car for the rest of the trip to Gainesville was definitely a depressed one and those depressed feelings stayed with us for the weeks to follow.  All plans after graduation for each of our futures had been impacted by the luck of the draw.  My two friends because they knew they would be drafted and, thus, plans for graduate school were gone.  For me, because I had thought the three of us would continue being together after graduation and now that wouldn’t happen.  It turned out that both my roommate and friend ended up joining the Army.  One did a tour in Vietnam and the other served his time in the states.  Fortunately, both survived their military service safely.  For me, 1970 ended up being an incredibly tense year.  As the year progressed and men were drafted, the prediction was that the last number of draftees to be called was going to be 215.  I couldn’t believe my "luck."  I was going to be the last to be called.  As fall came, I had to report for an Army physical as my number was approaching being called to serve.  At the time I was in graduate school and the thought of being in the Army was overwhelming to me.  I had never touched a gun or even been in a fight.  The bottom line, though, turned out to be that the final number called for 1970 was 210.  I did not have to serve.  On December 31, I was finally able to sigh in relief and my life was put back into my own hands.  But the night of the lottery and the experience of 1970 will always be clearly engrained in my memory.