50 Years Ago, City On Fire

I was at work in Chicago when shots were fired in Memphis. I had no idea that shortly thereafter, cities would also be on fire. It was close to quitting time when my boss said to me, "He's dead!". I do not remember my reply, but no doubt confusion filled my head. So I boarded a city bus for home from 'The Loop' to the Westside. But before I made it home, the flames had already lit up the night sky. I have had many a peaceful dream as well as some horrific nightmares. This was clearly not a dream but a living front-roe-seat nightmare. From the streetcar, I could see mayhem and a city out of control. Aghast, bewildered, filled with disbelief, eye to eye with hopelessness. There had been progress, but the wilderness wandering would continue. A young man of 18, I was both sad for Dr. King and shocked for America. Massive violence had erupted upon the violent death of a non-violent man. Irony defied imagination as logic, reason, and sanity bowed to emotion and passion. Presently, as I write this on the west coast, it's 5:30 PM in Chicago, just about the time that I received the news 50 years ago. 50 years ago today, the voice of 'The Dreamer' was silenced, giving way to the alarming siren sounds of fire trucks and police cars. 04042018cjPSFB