Euripides wasn't interested in religion in the traditional sense, by which he meant America's organized religions, by which he meant the ones he knew. He'd tell people he was a Sufi, though he knew next to nothing about Sufism, only the ecstatic dancing, and he'd read the Hyms of Zarathustra, and he loved the confused
		look people got when he told them he was a Sufi. If pressed he'd say, I was raised Catholic. As he was, in Brooklyn, New York, an altar boy for many years. He used to love the cavernous marble interior of St. Fran's. But now he's left that behind. Catholicism is repressive. It represses sexuality; it represses individual freedom; it requires you to accept dogma; it opposes birth control; it opposes abortion; it hordes money and treasures while the poor go without, while the poor starve in some places. By being part of the system that keeps the masses placated, it supports the war. No, traditional religion was lost to
		Euripides. The nuclear family, the sanctity of marriage, trust in his country, respect and veneration of elders--all eaten away by the times. All gone.

	It was a time that washed over the world like acid, eating it's way first through the surface and then burning to the core. Look. It was a time of change. Men who would have worn their hair short, cropped close to the head in a crew cut, were letting it grow long, over the ears, down to the shoulders. Women who would have worn their dresses cut below the knee and slips over bras, wore dresses cut to mid-thigh and threw away their bras. In a matter of a few years we all looked different. Even the politicians wore wide ties and bright colors. First we changed the way we looked; then we changed who we were. And all in a matter of a handful of years.