MLK: my story
I was 15 years old. I lived for myself and my pleasures: skiing, biking, swimming, cars and girls (in that order of success!). St. Paul was a lily white community. My dad was the senior pastor of one of the largest Covenant Churches in the denomination at that time (1st Covenant St. Paul). The Jr. High I went to (Cleveland) was almost totally white. I paid little attention to the news and do not recall hearing or watching news about Dr. King's assassination.
What I recall is this; my dad told me he wanted me to go with him to an important Sunday evening service at the St. Paul Cathedral. When I asked him why, he said that someone really important to the world and to the Christian faith was killed and he was going to pay his respects. I so revered my dad, that I knew this was a big deal. So that night in 1968 I rode with my dad to a church to honor Dr. King. So memories of Dr. King are always through the lens of my father.