Spring of 1968 was just before I turned 12 later that summer. I was more caught up in starting baseball, having weird feelings about girls, and trying to figure out what my hippie sisters were doing. The night of MLK's assination I was more annoyed that some of my favorite TV shows were pre-empted, but as I watched what was unfolding, and learned more, we talked within our family and at school of the terrible thing this was. Perhaps this was my time of awakening, and it really started hitting home when Bobby Kennedy was shot a couple of months later. I remember sitting with my friends under the trees and talking about the calamity that the world seemed, hoping my big brother wasn't going to Viet Nam... and then playing baseball. For all of the troubles of that time, those were the waning days of a more simple, protected world within which I lived.
Spring of 1968 was just before I turned 12 later that summer. I was more caught up in starting baseball, having weird feelings about girls, and trying to figure out what my hippie sisters were doing. The night of MLK's assination I was more annoyed that some of my favorite TV shows were pre-empted, but as I watched what was unfolding, and learned more, we talked within our family and at school of the terrible thing this was. Perhaps this was my time of awakening, and it really started hitting home when Bobby Kennedy was shot a couple of months later. I remember sitting with my friends under the trees and talking about the calamity that the world seemed, hoping my big brother wasn't going to Viet Nam... and then playing baseball. For all of the troubles of that time, those were the waning days of a more simple, protected world within which I lived.