There are numerous people I have never met. They have shared an era in our beautiful and difficult planet with me. They remember the Cuban missile crisis of ’62 and the tragic Kennedy assassination of ’63. My fellow passengers watched the Fab Four in ’64 introduced to Americans by that stoop-shouldered host on that cold winter’s night.
They are a different bunch. Though I haven’t met most of them, I know their psyche was affected by the last American draft in those same 60s. It was only a matter of degree. They have a unique sense when they gaze upon the Vietnam Memorial.
We’ve shared a lot. What we have shared with certainty, thank God, is a long life.