A friend of mine told me that this weekend was her 20th high school reunion. Immediately, I was transported back to mine, back to one of the best nights of my life, back to when someone who had bullied me showed everyone else his true colors.
My hometown was a wealthy suburb, a place where rich, well-schooled, successful folks go to raise their families. A town filled to the brim with liberals who mostly commute to New York City, just a short train ride away. A town of folks that raise their kids to be liberals too.
My classmates and I were at the tail end of the Baby Boomers, old enough to protest the Vietnam war but not old enough to serve. Old enough to remember and mourn the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Jr., to have seen the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. We participated in protests, celebrated the…
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