Old glory and the real-time freaks

Quintus Ells has committed to writing a letter to the future (he presumes he will have a grandson in 100 years who will read Quintus's circa 1969 musings). He has given himself 38 days in which to write up everything that he thinks is relevant about who he is and what his grandson should know about his life and times. At the end of that 38 days, Quintus will turn 18 and will become eligible for the draft, a despised duty which he does not contemplate dodging although it is firmly at odds with his freewheeling, grass-smoking lifestyle.