The day Martin Luther King was assassinated I came home from a baseball game I’d been playing to find my mom absolutely distraught. Through her almost violent crying she told me that her hero Martin had been murdered. I knew who King was, because at that time my mom was a college student at San Jose State University, and was very actively involved in the political and social turmoil of 1968. I was ten years old.
I of course tried to comfort my mom, but she was beyond it. She secluded herself in her bedroom, and was so upset it seemed like she might never stop shaking. She went into a very deep funk that rendered her pretty fully incapable for at least three days. It was awful, watching her suffer so.
Motivated by my mom’s love of Dr. King, I got busy learning all I could about him, and the movement which he did so much to champion. King has remained an inspiration to me from that period of my life onward. His writings are invariably sublime testaments to the power of the human mind and soul. In so many way he was, almost above all, an artist. No one writes better.
On this sad day, I’d appreciate you sharing, if you’re old enough to remember, where you were and/or what you were doing when you heard that Dr. King been killed, and what that did or didn’t mean to you. If you’re not old enough to have been personally affected by that tragedy, and would like to share any of your thoughts on the immortal civil rights leader, I’d also be very grateful to hear them. Thanks. God bless.