I got a message from an old Peace Corps colleague a few days ago. It contained a somber theme of loss and despair. Some of his despair was personal (his wife left him, and he faces health issues) and some of it was contextual (his despondency over our country’s disintegration). Earlier today, I got a message from two neighbors (and good friends) who happened to be visiting their daughter who (with her new spouse) has moved to Spain. They suggested I look over a news piece talking about how a University of Wisconsin returned Peace Corps volunteer group is fighting against the Trump agenda.
And so, I’ve once again started reflecting on one of John Kennedy’s more significant legacies … the Peace Corps. Really, can you think of any federal initiative so directly at odds with the current administration’s zeitgeist than a program of self-sacrifice for the common global good. I mean, Trump is the paragon of transactional self-interest even though he has bankrupted nearly every business initiative he has undertaken. In the last few days, for example, he has blamed Ukraine for being the aggressor in their war of survival while seeking pay-back or ‘compensation’ for the military aid previously given Kiev. In Trump’s world, if you can not make a buck on something, you shouldn’t do it. He is the man who called American soldiers ‘suckers‘ and veterans who died during their service ‘losers.’ After, all they died for a cause … who does that?
Below, I am in the center of the picture … trying my best to become an agricultural specialist. I now look and wonder, who is that guy? 🤔 Look at how skinny he is, and all that hair. And where did those Clark Kent glasses come from?

As you all know by now (if not from the previous paragraph), I was one of those ‘suckers’ who responded to President Kennedy’s call to ‘do something for your country’ and not to ask the nation ‘to do something for you.’ I initially applied for this exciting opportunity in 1965 when the concept was fresh and young, during what was known as the ‘wild west’ days of the program. It was still more of a raw idea than a polished, bureaucratic venture. In any case, we who sought this experience were driven by a kind of primitive idealism … a passion to make the world a slightly better place. So many of my fellow volunteers remarked, even decades later when we gathered for occasional reunions, that they joined based on President Kennedy’s inspiring vision and his call for sacrifice and service.

The pic above contains my two groups that trained together in the summer of 1966 and who finished up our service in the summer of 1969. The top foto captures the members of India 44-A, the group assigned to do public health in the state of Maharashtra (near Mumbai or then Bombay). The bottom is my group. We allegedly did rural development in the State of Rajasthan, a desert area in northeastern India that bordered on Pakistan. These were not easy assignments. In fact, they tested us severely.
Somewhere close to 100 eager volunteers were present on the first day of training, only some two dozen remained at the end of our tenures. In fact, well over half never even made it to India while more left (or were asked to leave) during our tour. This was not for the faint of heart (and it should be noted that PC made significant positive strides over time). Yet, I can still recall Carolyn, the Asian looking woman in the top pic, saying how inspired she had been by Kennedy’s call for sacrifice. Most of us were, in one way or another. We believed we could make a difference.

I write about our tribulations and triumphs in the work pictured above … Our Grand Adventure. So, if you want the gritty details, related often with humor and insight, that’s the place to go. But the work also touches upon the tenor of the times. The 60s marked a visible shift in how we looked at the world, from the bland and conformist greyness of the 50s to the radical rebelliousness of the late 60s and early 70s. We forget how traumatic that transition was … a true societal inflection point. There were close to 1,000 real or attempted or planned domestic bombings in the late 60s, culminating in the UW campus bombing of the physics building in August of 1970. The world radically changed between the Camelot days of the Kennedy administration (the early death throes of American Apartheid notwithstanding) and the disorientation associated with defeat in Vietnam and the further loss of faith in government emerging from the Watergate scandal.
Still, many of us had faith back then. Despite all, we saw a future with hope. We really believed that our national experiment in democracy and inclusion was perfectible and, perhaps naively, that we could help in that endeavor. Amazingly, we really believed we could make a substantive contribution.
As I wrote in Our Grand Adventure and as Doris Kearns Goodwin recounts in An Unfinished Love Story, we experienced many moments of hope and exhilaration. One of those finer moments occurred in the middle of the night during the 1960 presidential campaign. Candidate John Kennedy landed late (after midnight) in Ann Arbor, Michigan, after a debate with Ruchard Nixon. Kennedy was seething about a claim Nixon had made during that debate that Republicans were the party of peace while Democrats tended to lead the country into war. Though the junior Senator from Massachusetts generally sounded more hawkish on foreign policy than his opponent during the campaign, he struck a different note that night.
Perhaps he was surprised. There were some 10,000 (mostly students) still waiting for him to arrive at this late hour. Given the crowd, he felt compelled to make a few unscripted remarks. At one point, he challenged this youngish audience to consider giving a couple of years of their lives to work in some foreign land, to give of themselves to make the world a better place, to make a personal sacrifice for peace. He never mentioned a Peace Corps. He never even promised an actual program. It was merely a call to their better natures.
It was enough! The students who listened to his challenge that night were electrified by his words. At the 50 year anniversary of the Peace Corps in 2011, a woman who was there vividly recalled the reaction of those assembled. It was as if a match was struck that lit a flame … a spark that would not be extinguished. Within weeks, the message about this new volunteer program (which was imaginary) spread across campuses. Kennedy’s campaign staff were bombarded with queries about this amazing new volunteer opportunity. Soon, there was no turning back. By a Presidential executive order, the Peace Corps was established on March 1, 1961, almost 64 years ago.
Who knows, perhaps Donald Trump, at the behest of Elon Musk, will end the Corps on March 1, 2025. I would not be surprised at all. I would be sad, though. I doubt my group improved the world in any measurable sense, though we had our modest successes during our service. What I do know is that my colleagues back then went on to remarkable lives as adults. As I’ve noted before, I can not say that the Peace Corps experience was responsible for those remarkably accomplished lives (which I believe were seldom matched by other such groups of young people). Yet, I sense there was something about being tested as we were that had an unmatched value-added impact on our adult lives.
What will inspire today’s youth to do similar things in the future? Not the words or actions of Donald Trump, unless you endorse his dystopian vision of a Dickension world of survival of the fittest. I surely do not.
Over the past two or so days, I’ve also exchanged emails with a neighbor about our childhoods. He is a rather famous infectious disease doctor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who is still working hard in his mid-80s. We shared the hard-scrabble nature of our early years … he in small town northern Wisconsin and me in a rather poor, working-class ethnic neighborhood in Massachusetts. Still, it was easy to work our way to successful careers. As young people in those long ago days, we had faith in the future. And perhaps we gained some faith in ourselves.
Today, we are driven by despair and perhaps comforted by a form of gratitude that we won’t have to suffer what appears to be lurking on the horizon … at least not for long. To repeat my mantra, I’m so damn glad I’m old.










