Years ago . . . while in seminary in Washington DC . . .
I was standing on a corner with a gang of inner-city
youth in the, then infamous, Second Precinct.
At the time, it was the city's most crime-ridden area.
I was meeting with black, junior-high youth who
lived in the area's run-down tenements.
A helicopter flew low overhead. It blared out:
"President Kennedy has been shot."
The gang shouted at me, don't leave - stay.
They ran off, soon returning with scrapbooks filled
with newspaper clippings and photos of Kennedy
and Cassius Clay . . . their two heroes.
I will never forget standing there with Oliver, Donny,
Sonny, Charles, and their leader JT. Tears were shed.
We hugged.
A tragedy beyond imagination.
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