Free Republic

<p>Decades ago, I taught at a community college. The bunch of us treated our shared office as if it were the neighborhood bar. We’d hang out for hours. That beat going home to our cheap apartments or our parents’ basements and watching TV, which was all we could afford on the pittance adjunct professors are paid. James was a jazz musician. Mo’s nose was always to the grindstone. Patrick was enthralling. I wish I had had a video camera recording our every conversation. His words glittered.</p>

How far left was I? So far left my beloved uncle was a card-carrying member of the Communist Party in a Communist country. When I returned to his Slovak village to buy him a mass card, the priest refused to sell me one. So far left that a self-identified terrorist proposed marriage to me. So far left I was a two-time Peace Corps volunteer and I have a degree from UC Berkeley. So far left that my Teamster mother used to tell anyone who would listen that she voted for Gus Hall, Communist Party chairman, for president. I wore a...