“Stay safe,” I repeated to everyone I knew traveling to The March. “Just keep yourself safe.” My caution surprised some but images of the ’60’s were haunting my sleep.
1963: I rode south with classmates as an exchange student for a few days at Hampton College, Virginia, a “Negro College.” We attended classes, slept in the women’s dorm, participated in discussions with students at the home of the college president. I rode the bus downtown with my roommate.
“Can’t we sit together?” I asked as she pointed me to a seat and then sat herself further to the back.
“No. I’m not looking to be killed. I’m buying material for my wedding dress.”