This season 40 years ago changed my life. The memories remain strong, the fork in the road of my life vivid. I count it the end of my childhood, in many ways. It was August 1968 and I was 10 years old. The summer had already had some major highlights. I had cut my very long hair into the latest style, a pixie cut. Once snipped, I felt so naked. No more curtain of hair covering my back, no more protection.
Before that, the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. in April and then Bobby Kennedy in June, had already awakened me from my childhood slumber. I had begun to pay greater attention to the wider world, a dawning awareness now that my life, so secure, so blessed, was not all the life there was.