I’m a graduate of the University of Virginia, which was commonly called when I entered in 1972, “Mr. Jefferson’s University.” I suspect that for many years that titled has not had as much use. The Vietnam War was ongoing with no end in sight; the draft for soldiers was real. When the birthdate lottery happened, to see where one stood in the next year’s draft, I was in the student newspaper’s office watching the Associated Press teleprinter. None of us knew that night that ours was the year the draft ended.
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