So a bunch of us from Yale were sitting around a table in New Haven today, when my old friend Penn said, “Welcome home, dear friend. We are so proud of you.” And those damn tears showed up again. There must be a primary election tomorrow.
Penn Rhodeen was here with me in the beginning as my boss, and he’s still here, a few pounds heavier, with more gray hair, still fighting the fine fight. We met when I came to Connecticut in 1972 as a law student at Yale. So he goes and tells everyone in the room today that I showed up on his doorstep in a pair of purple bell bottoms, preaching child advocacy, and women’s rights. It’s over 35 years later and I’m still preaching.
We both worked here at the Yale Child Study Center back in the day. Negro or white, rich or poor, we fought for women’s rights, for children, for the future of a country bogged down in an unpopular war run by a president we all hated.
The moment in New Haven today was not lost on me. I started law school here. I met Bill here. I shed a few tears then, too. What’s a tear or two between friends?
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