I remember the year 1967 as one of conflict and contradiction. At once both troubled and optimistic. Every night the news broadcast images of the Vietnam War, where young men were fighting and dying. John McCain was a naval aviator and in October 1967 he was shot down over Hanoi and remained a prisoner of war for five and a half years.
There were scenes as well of the young men and women back home who were protesting the war. One demonstration at San Francisco’s Kezar Stadium drew 40,000 protestors. There was the Six-Day War in the Middle East, and there were racial riots in Detroit and Newark. It seemed to my young mind at times that the world was going crazy.
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