Though I was rather young at the time of Dr. King’s assassination, the events as viewed from an adolescent mind remain vivid. At the time, my father was out of town on a business trip, in Louisiana, and my mother had the task of running the family business during my father’s absence. Thus my grandmother had picked up my older sister and I until my mother could stop by and take us home. Shortly after dinner the announcement came across the television relaying the tragic news. Granted at the time I did not fully understand the circumstances, what I did comprehend as that two of the strongest women in my life were fearful. Then it was announced that the suspect (James Earl Ray) was seen driving a 1965 white Ford Mustang, driving down Jackson Avenue, which was the route that we would have to take to our home in Bartlett. This coupled with the fact that my mother was driving a 1965 white Mustang with a black top made traveling home an extremely unnerving thought. News accounts were breaking, information and misinformation were somewhat frequent. That is when I first witnessed the fear that my grandmother and mother had in their eyes, the discussion of whether to stay at my grandmother’s house or go home. With the uncertainty of what was to unfold over the next days, my mother decided that we would try to get home that evening, hoping beyond hope that no one would confuse our car for the one alleged to being driven by the suspect. We drove across town with my sister and I sitting in the floor of our car. After what seemed to be a lifetime we arrived home without incident, later that night my father was finally able to get a call through to us to determine our safety. The media, then as now was showing the violence unfolding in our hometown, to the point that my father was quite sure that the entire town was burning to the ground, rather than the couple of blocks that were effected. Many conversations have taken place over the years, but none more profound than the lady that described the record snow we had later that year as a peace snow, her statement that the good Lord sent the snow to cool the anger that had grown in the aftermath of the assassination.