My father wrote this note more than 50 years ago and placed it into the bicentennial time capsule we sealed in 1976. It remained there until this summer, when we opened the box.
Looking at it now brings up some feelings. His distinctive handwriting — all caps — and I can see parts of it reflected in my own. His blunt, almost brusque style, which mirrored exactly how he spoke whenever politics or economics came up.
And then there’s the parallel. Artificially government-controlled stock markets. Millions idle. The cost of daily living skyrocketing. Earning power decreasing. Fifty years later, and it reads like it could’ve been written this year.
Some things just don’t change.