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had green-fatigued National Guardsmen that spring. Martin Luther King was dead and the rioting had begun. We had soldiers next to us in the cafeteria lines that spring. They had to stand watch over the decaying inner city. We watched over and learned from the sick and, in many cases, the decaying bodies of the city’s people. Both were eaten away by cancers from within.
And so I graduated. On that night that marked my passage from student to independent adult, Bobby Kennedy lay dead in California. By that time, I knew racial injustice was evil and I knew something was horribly wrong if our government’s focus was on Southeast Asia rather than the neighborhoods in the shade of the nation’s Capitol. Why couldn’t people see?
I was then a three assassination veteran of 21. I moved to Washington, D.C., and began volunteer medical work in Resurrection City. Those were very, very poor people. I felt ashamed of my relative wealth.
I married, moved to Europe and saw cities without
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