Why write about this era of the Vietnam War?

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We’ve had times in this country when we have been bitterly divided. I chose to visit one of those times. And consider this fact: the Vietnam War was fought over twenty-one years (1954 to 1975) and took the lives of nearly three million people, military and civilians, on both sides.

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My novel explores how high schoolers in 1969–1970 navigated a world full of uncertainty, division, and awakening—a time when protests over the Vietnam War, movements for racial justice, and shifting social norms all collided. In many ways, those themes resonate strongly today. Young people now are also coming of age during moments of social unrest, political polarization, and global upheaval.

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What connects the two eras is a sense of youth trying to find their voice amid widespread change. The details differ—the issues, technology, and culture—but the emotional experience of questioning authority, demanding justice, and struggling to define one’s values under pressure feels timeless.

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By looking back at 1969–1970, the novel reflects how cycles of protest, reform, and renewal continue. It suggests that while history rarely repeats itself exactly, it often rhymes—and every generation must decide what kind of future to fight for.

Finally, what we have seen in our country echoes some of the chaos of the Vietnam era. As Walter Cronkite reported on CBS Evening News on May 4, 1970 after the Kent State shootings, “One must wonder if this is the United States of America, the greatest free democracy in the world. Some might suggest this is a nation at war with itself.”

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Why 1969?

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1969 was a time when the anti-Vietnam anger in America was boiling. By October of 1969, a single act of protest—M Day, the Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam—was a strike against the war that involved thousands. While peaceful, the march around the White House and on the streets of Washington triggered a series of mass demonstrations across the country.

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Your background is in journalism. Why write fiction?

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Writing at the intersection of reality and imagination offers readers clarity around the human condition, particularly in a fractured and polarized world. Stories matter; words matter in the way they inspire connection and effect change. We are influenced by everything we read and have ever read, so reading about the human condition is very powerful.

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From where does your inspiration come?

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My inspiration flows from deep, human-centered stories—especially those that connect personal experience to broader moments in history. I’m drawn to resilience, social consciousness, identity, and the tension between individual lives and sweeping social change.

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If I look at what I’ve written—stories inspired by my Jewish parents’ survival during World War II, by Bess Myerson’s courage, my formative years amid the cultural upheaval of the 1960s—I seem to be most inspired by transformation under pressure: how people become who they are when the world forces hard choices about justice, belonging, and truth.

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Were Columbus public schools actually integrated in 1969, before the Supreme Court mandate in 1974?

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While Columbus Public Schools operated a largely segregated system with deliberate racial separation before 1969, a “freedom of choice” plan began in 1964, desegregating one grade per year starting with 12th grade.

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From 1871, Ohio state law mandated complete racial separation in Columbus schools, creating a dual system with Black-only facilities like Loving. Loving School was a segregated primary school for Black students in Columbus, Ohio’s public school system, located on the near east side. This separation persisted post-Brown v. Board of Education (1954) through gerrymandered boundaries that confined Black students to specific “enclaves,” ensuring minimal mixing despite some high school integration by the early 1900s. The school exemplified de jure segregation, with inferior resources compared to white schools, until broader desegregation efforts in the late 1960s.

Amid national momentum from cases like Green v. County School Board (1968), the board adopted faculty integration and optional attendance zones, sparking early mixing without court order. This aligned with many districts preempting lawsuits.

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Voluntary integration avoided federal coercion, responded to NAACP pressure, and followed Southern precedents like accelerated “freedom of choice” plans. Full busing came post-ruling, but 1969 marked proactive shifts.