The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Bob D,
West Chester, PA
It happened in the summer of ’68. I was alone at a concert at the city stadium in Glen Cove, NY. There was chanting, black kids -some of them friends from school- surrounded me and I was beaten unconscious. It wasn’t personal. Dr. King had been murdered, it was summertime, the nation was in flames. I forgave them.
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