I actually have the muscle memory of sitting on the fire escape of my "new" apartment in Brooklyn to eat a chicken I'd burned and which had smoked up the house (hence the fire escape) with my friend Ben, hearing the phone ring, bending to get into the kitchen, answering the phone, and getting the news from my tearful mother, who was crying. it feels like it could have been last week.
And then he was murdered. I remember 1968, I remember what has happened since then. The insanity continues…
I actually have the muscle memory of sitting on the fire escape of my "new" apartment in Brooklyn to eat a chicken I'd burned and which had smoked up the house (hence the fire escape) with my friend Ben, hearing the phone ring, bending to get into the kitchen, answering the phone, and getting the news from my tearful mother, who was crying. it feels like it could have been last week.
My Mom stood in the kitchen crying when she told me. It felt like hope died that day.