Reclamation Project

In the midst of my version of adolescent angst in my hometown, Niskayuna, NY, I somehow served others on the Student Council, and enjoyed it. During my senior year, while I was Student Council President, John Kennedy was killed. The school was completely silent as we left, no one spoke a word on the bus. Somehow, I was able to speak to the student body about it, what he meant, what he left, how we were left and what we could do.

Then Martin and Malcolm were killed.
That was harder.
I didn't do so well.
By that time I had seen a movie called "The War Game" which troubled me terribly.
Then Bobby got shot.
I remember distinctly we were at McIntyre's house across the Genessee River from campus.
We were listening to Blood, Sweat and Tears and somehow someone had a radio or TV on and the news came through.
I remember distinctly I said, "I quit".
And I did.
My heart was broken.
So much loss.
I may have been weak.
I don't care.
That's my truth.

I went far, far away.
Where and how and who I met there is perhaps another story.

It has taken a long time to come back from all the rage, grief and loss, personal as well as public.

Now something is reborn, I am reborn, I am born again.
My heart is being softened.
The antagonism and animosity I bore is being dissolved.
The anxiety lessens daily.

I am seeing anew.
I am grateful.
I have a choice, moment by moment, despite what others may think, say or do.
Yes.