Word: calle
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Tomorrow's race is impossible to call...
FRIDAY, APRIL 26 -- I wake up at 8:55 and run to the crew bus and leave for MIT. In Cambridge I call home. My mother asks me, "Are you on the side of the law-breakers in this thing?" For ten minutes we exchange mother talk and revolutionary rhetoric. She points out that neither Ghandi nor Thoreau would have asked for amnesty. I admit I haven't read them. But Ghandi had no Ghandi to read and Thoreau hadn't read Thoreau. They had to reach their own conclusions and so will...
...evening I discover that the electricity to the kitchen is cut off. I run downstairs and almost call for "some important" but somehow I am unwilling to accept that kind of status relation. I tell several of my peers and one of them finds the fuse box and sets things right...
...discover a phone which has not been cut off and call my brother. As I am talking someone puts a piece of paper beside me and writes "This ... phone ... is ... tapped." I address myself briefly to the third party and go on talking. It feels good to talk to someone on the outside, although it is disappointing to find out that the outside world is going on as usual...
...Shortly after we hear it, we see a candle-light procession approaching. The bride is carrying roses. She hands them to me and I pass them inside. The demonstration peaks for me as I touch the roses--I am stoned on revolutionary zeal. The newlyweds call themselves Mr. and Mrs. Fayerweather...