Memories of Cincinnati, When MLK Was Shot

Someone in another thread asked... so I was trying to remember.... where I was when Martin Luther King was shot. It brought back a flood of memories. We were living with my grandparents at the time. I remember the television report. The tears. The fear. The rioting. The curfews.... Most of all, though, I remember that my grandma died that same week. She woke us up in the middle of the night. Her exact words were "You'd better come down here, Audrey."

I was nine and a half years old. When I heard gran's call, I bolted upright. I was expecting violence on the street or something. Instead, I was confronted with my 64 year old grandma... gasping for breath. She refused to leave the house. Her fear was too great. Mom called the life squad, but the ambulance was slow to respond. "They probably thought it was a prank call" was the explanation.

My aunt and uncle did not make it to gran's side before she passed. They were waiting for police escorts. Mom and I were there. And my grandpa walked up from the office where he had been working late. He held her as she passed.

The passing of Martin L. King and that of Mildred C. Hofmann ... are difficult for me to separate. They are overlain in some peculiar twist of neurons, indelible memories from a ten year old's mind.

In Loving Memory, on this, the fortieth anniversary of our loss.


Susankh4

:hug: