After five years of sending letters to military junta leaders asking for the release of political prisoners, I finally got a letter back. It was from a general in Uruguay. Thank you for your concern about X, we are proud of our people, we treat everyone fairly, it said.
One hundred letters and someone gets to see sunlight. Five hundred letters and they get a family phone call. One thousand letters and they become a liability and a surprising number are released.
This morning the sun is rising above a heavy cloud layer over the Willamette valley. People are getting ready for work and school. Each one is connected by invisible thread to someone they don’t know whose life depends on enough of them taking a few minutes to tug on the thread. Who knows, maybe today is the day?