March 29, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
I did my thing today. Didn’t have much to say and even less enthusiasm to say it. I stayed inside and looked myself in a supply closet. Not literally. But I offered to reorganize supplies.
Sometimes I wonder if The Senator is really the answer. Maybe he’s just like the rest of them, as someone back in Concord said. “They’re all a bunch of bums. Every single one of them.”
I started to think about what would happen if I was born with darker skin. What it would be like? Would Becca still be friends with me? Would I still be going to college?
Would I still be trusted? Would people in New Hampshire still have listened to me?
I don’t know.




