The Rending of our National Fabric

I will never forget 1968 because it was, for me, the end of my innocence. Up to that point, my worries in life centered around me and the activities of my daily life. My world was sheltered and small, which is probably not unusual in those days for an eight-year old boy living a middle class existence, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force, my father's employer. In fact, being in a military family and living overseas for the first couple of years of elementary school meant I was insulated from a time o...