Over the weekend a yellowed piece of paper fluttered to the floor, falling out of the back of the book. It was a letter to the editor of the Harrisburg
Patriot News and the text of a telegram (yes, a telegram) a group of high school friends and I sent to President Richard Nixon on News Year's Eve 1972. Reading those names on the bottom of the letter was bittersweet. Some of the people I barely remember, some I haven't seen in years and some have died. And some are still the type of friends that I can call at any time, the years dropping away as we talk, picking up where we left off the last time.
Bittersweet, too, was the realization how far we'd come since a telegram, but also how little things have changed. The Vietnam war may be over, but the state of world affairs remains as complicated as it was 41 years ago. I am now a "responsible adult" and still I begin each new year thinking of hope, understanding and lasting peace.
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