I Was A Child Of Privilege And

The Responsibility For The Risks We Posed To Others In Some Of Our Most Extreme Actions In Those Underground Years Never Leaves My Thoughts For Long. The Antiwar Movement In All Its Commitment, All Its Sacrifice And Determination, Could Not Stop The Violence Unleashed Against Vietnam. And Therein Lies Cause For Real Regret.

One Of The Things That Happened That I Think Is Noteworthy, My Parents Were Pretty Tolerant People Given Their Position In Society. They Were Pretty Interesting About Being Interesting Able To Look At Their Children And Think Oh My Children Know Things And They Gave Us A Lot Of Sense Of Our Own Agency, And That May Be A Kind Of A Ruling Class Trait.

I Knew Barack Obama, Absolutely. And I Knew Him Probably As Well As Thousands Of Other Chicagoans.

I Don't Know That I Ever Bought Into The "american Dream." I Was A Child Of Privilege. I Grew Up In The '50s And It Was A Quiet Time In America, At Least On The Surface And I Grew Up In A Kind Of Feathery Bed Of Privilege.

Without A Doubt. It's Woven Into Our Dna In A Very Deep Way And So To Kind Of Be Smacked In The Face With The Hypocrisy Of The America That We Were Sold Was A Liberating And Harsh Experience.