It was the beginning of a new semester at my alma mater, and I had moved into a dorm, on the side facing the quad.  The room seemed familiar to me (but I think I only lived on that side during my freshman year).  It was at night, and I was listening to the "oldies hour" on WPGX.  The room was a mess -- it needed to be swept and scrubbed -- and it occurred to me that my alma mater should have had that done before we came.  My roommate arrived, and it was Bob Neenan  I started asking him about his experiences in Vietnam.  He wasn't too articulate about it, and seemed to be weighing his words carefully.  I didn't press him on the issue, because I had heard that his feelings about the war had softened somewhat.