She began her letter by telling me how sick she had gotten. As her health continued to decline, she decided to go home. There, she developed a lump on her throat. Frightened, she went to see a doctor who, upon diagnosing it as a toxic goiter, put her on thyroid medication and a tranquilizer. Forced to quit school, she claimed all the worry and excitement over her condition had prevented her from writing any sooner.

She then went on to say:

“Butch, I want you to know you mean a great deal to me. I care about what happens to you, what you do. As I recall the good times we’ve had, I want to thank you for all of them. But I’m afraid you look at them differently than I do. I’ve said this before and I mean it—you’re a very good friend and I’ll always want to keep your friendship. I don’t want anything to happen to our friendship, or should I say my friendship, because you feel so differently about me. I regard you as one of my best friends, and that’s all.

“You said you love me and maybe you do. I can’t say what you’re feeling, I can only tell you what I feel. And I feel only a very strong need for you as a friend. If I’ve given you the impression my feelings for you are the same as those, you hold for me, I’m sorry. I never meant to do that. And if what I’ve said has offended you in any way, I’m deeply hurt. If you love me, then I’ve hurt you too. I’m sorry.

“I hated having to say this to you, but I believe it had to be said. I can only hope you’ll understand what I am saying. I didn’t write this letter to hurt you; for I’d rather die than hurt you. But it wasn’t fair to you, to go on believing I love you too. I can only say I care very much about what happens to you. You’ll never know how much you’ve given me. But Butch, I can’t return the same feelings you have for me. I can only say I hope this letter doesn’t affect our friendship. Remember, I do care about you, more than you will ever know.

“From now on my letters will be far apart, because the doctor wants me to do absolutely nothing. I’ll write as often as I can. Butch, please read this letter carefully and try to understand what I’m saying. For I never was very good at expressing my feelings on paper.

Love,
Mary

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,“ I replied.

“If you were, I’d have asked ya to leave,“ he said. “As it is, I feel the need for some good company and a bit of stimulating conversation.“

Struck by not only his honesty but also his impeccable dress, an obviously freshly pressed set of tailor-made dungarees, I asked him, “Did ya get in trouble today?“

“Nah,“ he answered, “I’m too short. With less than a week to go on this godforsaken can, they (meaning the lifers) can’t touch me.“

I was deeply saddened by the news that he’d be leaving so soon. Even though he wasn’t as warm and vibrant as Van, I nonetheless took an immediate liking to him. For I experienced this young rebellious intellectual from Boston, Massachusetts, as a godsend. Envious of his impending discharge, I wished I were in his shoes instead.

“For four long years,“ he continued, “I’ve struggled against becoming an animal like the rest of these bastards. Next week when I walk off this ship for the last time, I’ll have prevailed.“

“I know the feeling,“ I interjected.

“From the first day of my enlistment,“ he rejoined, “they drummed the idea into my head that I had joined this outfit for one reason only: to fight for my country. But they lied to me, for I ended up spending four long years fightin’ to save my ass from them.

“Don’t believe a word of what the lyin’ vultures say, for they prey upon human flesh with talons made of lies. Resist the temptation to become one of them. And whatever you do, don’t let them rob you of the most precious gift you have, your humanity, for the wraiths will claw away at it until all that remains is the shadow of what was once you.“

“I know the feeling,” I interjected.

“From the first day of my enlistment,” he rejoined, “they drummed the idea into my head that I had joined this outfit for one reason only: to fight for my country. But they lied to me, for I ended up spending four long years fightin’ to save my ass from them.

“Don’t believe a word of what the lyin’ vultures say, for they prey upon human flesh with talons made of lies. Resist the temptation to become one of them. And whatever you do, don’t let ‘em rob you of the most precious gift you have, your humanity, for the wraiths’ll claw away at it until all that remains is the shadow of what was once you.”

“What d’ya mean?” I asked outta the very real fear that such a thing could happen to me.

“For four long years,” he went on to say, “they tried to convince me this way of life is a necessary evil. They almost succeeded until I went to Vietnam, supposedly to stop the spread of communism, and saw the truth for myself.

“It appears they suffer some grand delusion that we are the good guys who’re going to save the rest of the world from bad guys, like the Communists. They misled me, for awhile, with this white lie of theirs, until I discovered they were only protecting their delusion—some fantasy called the American dream which, for many throughout the world, has become a nightmare.

“For the real fight’s not out there, over in Vietnam, it’s in here, within ourselves. It’s the struggle with our own delusions, the lies we live by, especially the one which has us so convinced that what we need is more of what’s out there in Nature.”

“I don’t understand,” I interjected. “Since time immemorial,” he went on, “have we fallen for this lie, that our future lies hidden within our material progress. And yet, in our pursuit of this delusion, we’ve only succeeded in impoverishing the earth and its people. Thus have we helped to create a bipolar world, consisting of the haves ‘n’ the have-nots, who have further polarized themselves over the issue of materialism by squaring off on either side of an iron curtain into two heavily armed, ideologically opposed camps or isms.

“As I chipped away at all the hype ‘n’ hysteria surrounding communism, I began to see it as a rather ambitious attempt by the have-nots to right the wrongs of capitalism, which has only succeeded in globally impoverishing the many for the benefit of a few. However, in their struggle to purge from the masses the sins of capitalism, that is, its rugged individualism, greed and failed trickle-down economics, the communists’ve only succeeded in creating a totalitarian nightmare instead of a utopia. As this nightmare invaded the collective consciousness of the world, it struck fear into the heart of the American dreamer and created mass hysteria. For this Red scare threatened to take everything away from the American dreamer in order to redistribute the wealth, he’d misappropriated in the first place, more equitably amongst its rightful inheritants, the have-nots of the world.

“That’s when I saw the nightmare and the dream as two sides of the same coin, for both of them have resorted, in the past, to propaganda, economic ideology and guns to force their inhumane ways of life on the rest of us, the guilty bystanders caught up in this Mexican standoff. Whether we choose heads or tails, we lose—the many are impoverished for the benefit of a few—for a single coin was given to us long ago to benefit not only the individual but also the collective.

“Only when the individual and the collective realize their indebtedness to each other will we tear down the iron curtain that so divides our collective psyche. As the collective must put everything it possesses into the development of the individual, so must the individual give back to the collective all it has given him. Only then, will we truly be free.

“Only then, will we realize that our future lies not out there in our own self-centered materialism, but on the other side of the iron curtain within the collective unconsciousness of our beings. Only then, will we see the iron curtain as the veil of matter, which has so blurred our vision—our materialism as the wall, which has so divided us. Only then, will we take the next great step and cross the threshold to embrace our humanity, a life given to us for the sake of each other, as exemplified in simple living and the right use of the material goods of this world.”

“I see,” I muttered as he paused for a moment to get some assurance from me that I had understood what he had just shared with me.

“What we sorely need,” he continued to preach from his soapbox up on the bridge, “is an amalgam of communism ‘n’ capitalism around the issue of materialism, a single coin that combines the best of all three. But I’m afraid that what we’ll get is the appearance of a winner and a loser. In that case, we’ll all lose. And though communism may recede into the shadows of our collective imaginations, like a tyrannosaur, the truth of its ideals will rise again as the disparity between the haves ‘n’ the have-nots worsens under capitalism, that other dinosaur which may not pass on until it has devoured everything and transformed this Eden into a living hell.

“So don’t be fooled into believing the real battle’s out there tween one delusion and another, for the real war wages on within your body, even now as I speak. It’s there, the final outcome’ll be decided. The enemy’s not out there, he’s in here, for we’re our own worst enemy.”