This is the fourth in a series.
(1) I was in Mrs. Rivers’ third grade class at Cheraw Primary School. When we misbehaved, we had to stay in the classroom during recess (by far our favorite part of the day) and write “I will not do [bad act] again” 100 times on a sheet of paper. One day just after I finished writing what I would no longer do 100 times and was headed for the door, the bell rang, signaling the end of recess. Without thinking, I said a word I had heard an older kid use. I had no idea what the word meant, but as soon as I said it, all hell broke lose. I was sent to the principal’s office to wait as both of my parents were called to an impromptu conference. It was the infamous “f word.” I can’t recall if I was told what it meant at the time, but I knew for sure that I shouldn’t say it again within earshot of a teacher.
(2) I distinctly remember when Robert Kennedy was assassinated on TV. I am not certain if I was watching it as it happened or watching as it was replayed later in the day. I do know that I was the one who told my grandfather about it.
(3) And of course the defining event that year was my dad’s death on November 14. I wrote a little about that day in Five Days in April.
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