I reconnected with a childhood friend awhile back. We had lost touch after junior high. The high school in our district had been plagued with vandalism and violence throughout the mid-60’s as the Civil Rights movement escalated. My parents, their minds made up that it was not a safe environment for a mousy white girl, thrust me into the uncomfortable position of lying about where I lived so I could attend a safer school. A few lucky classmates got selected from a lottery to attend out of the district. Others transferred to parochial schools. I hadn’t heard where Karen attended.
We met for coffee one morning near her home. I gasped when she told me she had attended the school my parents did somersaults to keep me out of. She shared some of the most memorable events that she encountered during the one year she attended. Then she added, “You know, that was the year Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. I wrote a story about it. Would you like to read it?”
Bells and whistles went off in my head as the writer in me recognized the historical significance of her experience. It’s true that writing opportunities often spring from the least likely sources. She sent me a copy of her fictionalized version of that year. She said it was cathartic for her to get it all down on paper.
The scenes in her manuscript resonated with me. I realized that I could have been that girl, cowering at my locker day after day, praying some kid wouldn’t slam the door shut on my fingers, or avoiding the bathrooms, where girls got jumped and beaten.
I emailed my friend and asked her permission to rewrite her story as a nonfiction book. I’ve nearly completed the first draft. With luck, the Member Success section of this website will one day include an announcement of the publication of my friend’s story.