A writer recently offered a letter imploring those contemplating suicide to reach out for help — to whomever or wherever they can (“Contemplating suicide? Reach out for help,” March 25). He noted his own flirtation with suicide some 40 years ago. No doubt a difficult letter to write, and I commend this newspaper for printing it.

A few years back, I was contacted by a high school friend who was interviewing our classmates for a book he was writing titled, “Life Happens… How Catholic Baby Boomers Coped with a Changing World.” It was a fascinating subject exploring evolving values: politics, family, religion, education among other topics. I readily volunteered to design the cover — a photographic 1960s-era collage: the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, Mohammad Ali standing victoriously over Sonny Liston, Marines leaping off a helicopter in Vietnam, Kennedy and Nixon buttons, a 45 rpm Motown copy of The Four Tops’ “Bernadette.” Love beads — contrasted with rosary beads.

A journalist by trade, Charlie had worked at The New York Times and various New Jersey newspapers. Most recently, he’d purchased a small daily in Charlotte, South Carolina. A brilliant guy, I recall he graduated third in our class scholastically. I’d graduated 112 out of 146 — I didn’t so much graduate; they just sorta laid me off.

I spoke with Charlie around Christmas. Our 50th (yikes!) Reunion Committee requested use of our cover photograph for the invitation. He readily agreed. We spoke (again) of politics, family, and the Panthers/Patriots chances in the NFL playoffs.

I’m looking forward to that reunion on October. And I was certainly looking forward to seeing Charlie and his wife. But last week, he drove down to a hotel room in Georgia, and put a bullet through his beautiful brain. No one knows why. It doesn’t matter. I just wish Charlie’d reached out for help.

Buddy Doyle

Gardiner