April 3, 1968
”Goodbye momma!" I yelled to my mother from the front door, while gathering my college textbooks and heading out to the bus stop. "Goodbye son," softly said my mom as she gathered the laundry from the room that I shared with my brothers. My dad traveled behind me to his car in an effort to make it on time to his job. During my brisk walk to the bus stop I noticed that my quiet neighborhood was full of its typical activity. Mothers were waving to their children as they skipped off to school. Fathers were arriving home from their night jobs or hurrying off to work. I glanced at my watch to estimate how much longer the bus would be. lust as I looked down the bus pulled up and I was headed to Memphis State. While I scanned over my notes for the Biology test that day I overheard people discussing the arrival of Martin Luther King and couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow had in store. ”He will be at the Lorraine motel tomorrow!" the young man behind me exclaimed. "Are you going?" he asked the girl behind him. Before she could answer his question my stop had come and it was my turn to get off. Before now it hadn't really sunk in that Martin Luther King, who I thought of as "The Man" or our savior, would actually be in Memphis, Tennessee. What would this mean? Would it mean a new found freedom among blacks? Only time would tell and I couldn't wait.
April 4, 1968
I was finally on my way home and done with my afternoon classes and couldn't wait to eat my mother's home cooked meatloaf and mashed potatoes. While at the bus stop I remembered that Martin Luther King had come to speak and my mind wondered about the many topics and issues I knew he would address. Just then my thoughts were interrupted by my classmate. "How'd you do on today's test, I don't think I did so well.” "I did great! Maybe I could help you with the next test" I suggested. As we got to the end of our conversation the bus pulled up with its usual passengers such as maids and students from around Memphis. As the bus finally came to a stop at Lamar and Bellevue, a lady who sat behind me every evening awakened me. ”Son this is your stop, you don't want to miss it." ”Thank you, ma'am,” I smiled and replied. I got off and reached in my pocket for my transfer slip. As I leaned against the bench I noticed that this neighborhood was busier than usual. There were more people, vehicles and sounds than ever before. Along with the sounds and vehicles there were people screaming and crying. I then could only guess about the activity that took place that day. My curiosity and fear were suddenly answered when a car rode by, passenger screaming with tears rolling down her face, ”Martin Luther King is dead!” In that moment it seemed like time stood still. This couldn't be true. I began to scan the faces in the crowd to get clarity about what had just taken place.
The same lady who had awakened me on the bus, turned to us after hanging up the pay phone and alerted all those waiting saying "the buses have stopped running!" We better get out of this neighborhood it’s not safe I thought to myself. Still in shock l began to search my pockets for change to call my dad. I reached the pay phone just before the line started to form. After I dialed my father's number he picked up after only two rings. I had never been happier to hear my father's voice. "Son is that you?" I heard the buses had stopped and had been waiting to see where you were" I interrupted and asked, ”DAD is it true, is Martin Luther King dead?” he replied filled with disappointment. "Yes son it is and it is not safe for you to be out. They will begin rioting soon." For the next couple of minutes my wait for my dad seemed to take an eternity. The neighborhood where I was had not yet started rioting, but his fear was due to the fact that the neighborhood was mostly white and in that area policemen started to arrest and threatened to shot anyone waiting outside. Just then my dad pulled up and I readily got in to the car, anxious to be in a safe haven with my father. The ride home was quiet but by dads face I could tell we both were pondering the same question. What would become of Black people? Will sanitation workers ever get what they want? Will Black's suffer a setback by growing race tensions? My family switched between the TV and radio trying to figure out the details of what happened. As I began to gather my books for the upcoming day my father came to my bedroom to inform me that I would not be going to school and would stay home with my mother. Needless to say, I was relieved since I had an exam the following day in Algebra, but also because I was not looking forward to tension between White students and myself. That night, I fell asleep with still many questions in my head about why they had taken the life of such a good man with a booming voice and the only man, who we thought, could help us to equality.