Last night’s episode lasted two hours. As I drifted in and out of sleep (it was a long day), I witnessed rounds of mortar fire, heard old tapes of Johnson with McNamara, learned more about the Gulf of Tonkin error. Where have I been all these years? Obviously, not learning about Vietnam.

The conflict of my lifetime is being plumbed every night this week with a new Ken Burns and Lynn Novick documentary, “The Vietnam War.” Like a good baby boomer I’m watching every minute of it.

How strange to hear those voices again, Kennedy’s “heah,” Johnson’s twang; to see the faces that I remember from black-and-white newscasts. The history of our youth is strange. Is it history, if we’ve lived through it? Of course it is. It’s just that we’ve lived long enough for it to become so.

My favorite part is the ending of each episode and the music that accompanies it. Last night’s was “Turn, Turn, Turn,” the Byrd’s version. I like the harmony, I like the lyrics (hard to beat Ecclesiastes). It’s playing as I write this post. “To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

(Looking for an old photo from roughly this era — and this is the best I can do. Blurry is better in this pic of Mom and me on my high school graduation. Go Blue Devils!)