I have a confession to make. Like Ryan Lochte, I lied to my mom. In 1971, I was a grad student at the University of Maryland, College Park, and living in graduate housing off U.S. Route 1 with my wife, 2-year-old son and infant daughter. That spring another series of anti-Vietnam War demonstrations rocked the campus, and on May 5, thousands of students blocked U.S. 1, a main thoroughfare into Washington. When the local police and National Guard dispersed them and began making arrests, some protesters ran into our building and hid. State troopers fired tear gas into the residence to dislodge them, and it seeped into our first-floor apartment.