Our village was known as Bost in 1967, but the name was officially changed to Lashkargah within the year. I am told the word means "gathering place of the soldiers."

One of my favorite hobbies as a young teenager was to explore the centuries-old ruins of forts and buildings near the village. The Qala Bist fort was a popular place for Western archeologists to work. I found old coins and pottery shards while digging around there and still have them today.

Southwestern Afghanistan is much like the dry, hot, dusty state of Arizona in the U.S. I arrived there in the summer and only remember that it was H-O-T. Once we were driving on a remote road to Kandahar and had a flat tire. A friendly young camel herder was curious enough to come close to our car while we worked on the tire and was amazed when someone opened the door and the air conditioning could be felt blowing! That was probably the only time that nomad ever experienced air conditioning in his life while living in the desert!

I spent most of my summer in the Lashkargah swimming pool. A man named Saffi was governor of Helmand province then and his little boys spent a lot of time at the pool too. I couldn't remember one of their names and always called him "Little Saffi," which always made him giggle. Our family became friends with many of the local Afghan professionals, many of them Western educated. I can only wonder today what became of those people after the Soviet invasion.

My favorite Afghan food was the nan (bread), which we bought hot out of the oven. It was wonderful. The best nan in the country was at Girishk, a village not far north of Lashkargah. We would eat it there on our trips up to the Kajakai hydroelectric power dam. Summer was wonderful because of all the wonderful local fruits sold in the bazaar -- superb melons and grapes.

I spent the 1967-68 school year in Kabul in the ninth grade at the American International School of Kabul. The school served the children of diplomats and of people working in the country on foreign aid projects. I lived with about a dozen high school students in the school's hostel (dormitory) in the Kote Sangi area of western Kabul. Often I would ride downtown on the crowded local buses or rent a gawdi to take me. Occasionally we would see the black limousine of King Zahir Shah driving by on the streets of Kabul.

Most houses in Kabul were surrounded by compounds or high walls. The lifestyle was more relaxed in Lashkargah where we lived in a row of homes occupied by Americans -- no walls around them -- on a high embankment overlooking the Helmand River. The village mosque was directly across the street and several times each day we would see the mullah climb up in the minaret and shout "Allah akbar!"

I made frequent weekend trips home from Kabul by flying a D-3 airplanes operated by Ariana Afghan Airlines. An Ariana pilot named Gulam Habeeb Merkheel became a friend of mine and he always invited me to ride up front in the cockpit.

The Russians kept a low profile in Kabul when we lived there. Of course, that was to change within a few years later. One night a van load of teenagers from the American school in Kabul got the driver to circle around the Soviet Embassy while we rolled down the windows and sang "God Bless America" to guards at the embassy gates. We thought it was quite funny.

In Lash we had a gardener who had to cross a bridge into town each day on his way to work. Once during a cholera outbreak it was required that shots for cholera prevention be given at certain checkpoints around the country. The checkpoint in Lash was at the bridge, so our gardener, Mr. Daddi-ullah had to get a shot every day for about a week when he crossed the bridge. Poor guy! The village bazaar was about a half-mile away and I would ride there each day to look around or buy nan. Thirty years ago I knew enough of the local language to get around quite well, but I don't remember many words today. The Jeshyn grounds also were near our house and I was in Lash for Jeshyn in the summer of 1967. Quite a celebration of dancing and music! I can remember that they made and sold vanilla ice cream there, of which I hadn't eaten any since leaving the U.S.

I was fortunate to do a lot of traveling while living in Afghanistan: trips to Herat, Kunduz, down the Khyber Pass to Peshawar. Day trips to places near Kabul, like Istalif and Paghman. Spending a year in Afghanistan was a wonderful educational experience that I didn't fully appreciate as a teenager at the time. I often remark that I would like to return there someday for a visit. Going back 30 years later would be interesting. Perhaps the hostilities will end there in my lifetime so that this can happen. I hope to see the sun set beyond the Helmand again.