Ok, I've been telling the world I'm 45 (ick). They say people have vivid memories of famous traumatic events: where they were, what they were doing, everything they felt. I only have one.

I can't tell you what the date was when Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. I think it was a Sunday. I know for sure it was either a holiday or a weekend, because it was night and Daddy was home (he worked the swing shift at Tinker AFB). I was doing what I usually did, laying on the floor watching tv. They preempted Bewitched to tell the news. Daddy griped about it, calling Dr. King a communist. I didn't say anything, but I rolled my eyes. That sounded so ridiculous to me. At the time, I couldn't tell you if it was because he was a reverend, or because he was (is) an American, or because he was black. I just knew he wasn't a communist.

We could use someone like Dr. King today. If someone is willing to walk through hell for what is right, maybe others will follow.


***UPDATE***
From "Strength To Love," 1963.
Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.

I found this here. The wisdom of the ages.