Seventy-five years ago this week, Bill Everson sat down and wrote out the following message and published it in a mimeographed newsletter called The Untide. He was sitting in a cabin on the Oregon Coast, at a work camp for conscientious objectors. It was early 1943, and America, along with much of the world, was fully at war. Everson knew that when the shooting finally stopped, the world would be tired, maybe even tired enough to do something about it. But he knew that would be in the future; no one was listening now. So he spoke to the future, spoke to them from the edge. You can take it literally or metaphorically. I’ll go with both.