Few of our crowd stayed in the writing life past twenty. Aspirants in 1969 wrote for a State U “creative writing” program in order to dodge Vietnam. Student deferment kept us out, a no brainer.  
Rex Rayall and I paid the two hundred forty-dollar fare, NY/London. The grand adven ture began on a Scottish Air turbo prop, kids sprawled with packs, sleeping bags, Europe on $5 a Day.
In Paris, we had no intro to Gertrude Stein or anybody, ignorant of what writers must do. We left for Spain to stay on budget.
We chatted fifty-five years later, trading titles, reviews and the paltry sum of all else. He’d been a poet professor. A neck surgery stopped for a cardiac event that got him rolled over for open-heart.
       “Fuck.”
       “Nah. It was bad but got better.” He’d quit writing on lack of motivation or interest or return. Nobody knows if success will come or already happened in the dark. 
       1969 & Then Some is a narrative of spirit and legacy. Many boomers opposed a corrupt war. That stance adapted admirably when boomers opposed a candidate calling war vets “suckers and losers.” In singular spirit, boomers called foul play on Vietnam and again on Agent Orange.  
       War is defensible in defense, not in market building or personal gain. Not in secret alliance with bad people. Viet vets underscore the legacy, first going to war as instructed, then coming home to call it wrong; Viet vets became the biggest segment of the anti-war movement. Thank them for their service, for speaking out on what they saw, what they learned. 

 

Nine million Americans are touched by aneurysms during their lifetime. This is one story of love.