Technically, this is not a letter from someone who was “sent away”—unless summer camp counts as such. I’m running it because it’s one of two letters preserved from my girlfriend in 1970, when we were 14. I haven’t seen her since that time. A simply fantastic girl who resembled Joey Heatherton, one of the few shining memories of my teenage years. Web searches yield almost nothing, considering maiden names and the abyss of 40 years. But I heard at some point she lived in Atlanta.