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In Our Own Words
Living With Literature/Writing Our Stories
SELECTION FOUR
In response to "The Day It Happened," by Rosario Morales
I was in my little, old, rundown VW, about to leave for Oklahoma City — my mother was very upset with me for what I was about to do. She didn’t understand what or why.
I was going to live in OKC with Sister Nativity. Looking back I probably didn’t know too much either why I was going. Was I going as a rebellion, or was I just plain confused, or was I going because I thought I could really be of use in OKC?
You see, the year was 1966. Actually late summer 1966. Race riots had been going on in various parts of the country. John F. Kennedy had been shot in the fall of ’63, Martin Luther King was holding marches and the big march in Selma had taken place, there was tension in the air surrounding the racial issues and the Vietnam War had begun. Lyndon Johnson was in the White House.
And here I was, a freshly minted graduate of the University of Oklahoma. I was heading off to OKC to live with two nuns in a totally black neighborhood. Our house was the only house in the whole area occupied by whites. Would I be safe? Why was I doing this?
These were the questions that day as my mother confronted me as I was in my old VW, about to back out of the driveway and take the long trip to my new home.
Words were exchanged and my memory gets foggy here, but as I recall Mother tried to stop my car. She got in front of me and tried to block my way. What happened after that I’m not sure, but I did take that drive to OKC and spent the next nine months there.
My parents said that if anyone called for me they'd say they didn’t know where I was. In other words, I was definitely doing something they didn’t like nor approve of. It was a great experience.
by AH