April 4th, 6:01 pm (Central Time). I was 8 years old on that Thursday evening in 1968. Too young to remember what I was doing that day. Too protected to understand the struggle. Too white to be affected by it. I grew up practically down the street from his home.
One of my fondest childhood memories was going to FunTown, which was a small amusement park on the south side of Atlanta. It was a lot like a carnival or county fair with all the usual rides you see at those events. It even had games like the ones you might find on the midway of a big fair and a small gauge train you could ride around the park. When I was in the first grade my mom took me there with all my friends for my birthday. I still remember having recurring dreams of going there and riding…
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Letters From Nod 