The 1970's Draft Dodger
That's when I saw Bill Ayers, an instant blight. Scruffy, thinning
beard, dippy earring, and the wirerims, heading to order. I gathered
my things, got my camera ready, and snapped a shot right when he got
his coffee. I asked--what are you doing in D.C. Mr. Ayers? He said he
was giving a lecture in Arlington to a Renaissance group on education.
Then, unprompted he said--I wrote Dreams From My Father. I
said, oh, so you admit it. He said--Michelle asked me to. He
went on to say--and if you can prove it, we can split the royalties.
So I said, stop pulling my leg. But he came again--I really
wrote it, the wording was similar. I said I believe you probably
heavily edited it. He said--I wrote it.
