Dear John, I've thought of you often since I heard you died in Vietnam. We weren't best friends or anything, but I admired you my junior year as you went about the business of being a senior and co-editor-in-chief of the school paper. "Ridloowits" we called you. You were so serious; you were in love with Anne (your co-editor whom you married and of whom I was in awe), you ran track, hurdles I think it was, and you were such a good writer. Pius just had a reunion for the classes of '64 (yours), '65 (mine), and '66. We had it in the old gym, and I toasted you and shed a tear. You shouldn't have died, John. I was so sad to hear you were in the Air Force and in Vietnam. I opposed the war, thought it wrong, thought the warmakers were lying to us (they admitted much too late they were - but I guess you know that now). But you were a straight arrow, good kid of the early '60s, a "What can I do for my country" kind of guy. Nobody blames you, John; we blame the people who lied and sent you to your death. Be at peace, John. I will never forget you or the promise of your young life.

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