What goes around...

In April of 1968 I was seven years old. On April 4, 1968 Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis and all hell broke loose across the country. Curfews went into effect and school was cancelled. My father pulled out his single barrel 12 gauge, loaded it and left it on the piano in the living room so it was at hand. He left it there while he and Mom where away at work. My brother, 16 at the time, and I were left at home. My brother’s friend from down the road was visiting. We were sitting in the Den. My brother was showing his friend the shotgun and bragging of what he would do if trouble came around. Then I jumped about two foot straight up after he pulled the trigger. The hole in the rug, and floor beneath, was about two inches from his friend’s foot. No one was hurt, and amazingly no one shit their pants. There was a sure and certain knowledge that someone was in big trouble when the parents got home and saw the rug. Brother and friend filled the hole with plastic wood and spun the rug so the hole in it was hidden under the sofa. The shotgun was returned to the piano, and I was threatened with all sorts of dire outcomes if I told. I didn’t. I didn’t have to. He didn’t reload the shotgun. What goes around…