“In February 1968, he had agreed to come to speak at my high school in Vermont on Sunday evening - and so my parents spent that weekend in New England. During what turned out to be our last weekend together, we raced each other down ski trails in the brisk air, discussed my paper on Wordsworth by the fire and talked about his running for President.
I loved that he wanted to hear about my life - school, friends, what my fellow students were thinking about: Vietnam, race relations.
He was so good not only at asking questions, but at truly listening to the answers.
That Sunday evening, he addressed the assembled students and talked about the war, the violence in our cities and the desperation on Indian reservations. He painted a picture of a world yearning for justice, and he asked us - a small group of privileged and fortunate students - to take our responsibilities seriously, to resist merely private pleasure, and to use our gifts to enlighten and enrich the world.
That night, my friend Sophie and I decided to take up his challenge and work on an Indian reservation that summer.
In looking back, I see just how much he believed in me, even when I was 16. And I see how much believed in the power and potential of young people generally. He thought all of us - mere teenagers - could and must make serious moral choices about our lives.”