Revolution
April 11, 1968
by Amy
My Father thinks that the interview with Glasses will show up sometime next week. He's not sure because, as he says, the news business is never certain of anything until after the fact.
That's why it's hard to get them used to new ideas, I think. They report history, not prophecy. But that doesn't stop them from considering the possibilities. My father doesn't know what's going to happen next. Instead, he looks to Glasses and I for an explanation as to why King was shot, why all the students are pissed and why people are rejecting the system.
One word. Revolution.
My conversation with Coleman has put me in a bad mood permanently. "They killed him, clear and simple. And if they could kill him, what makes you think they won't kill you?"
Fuck you Coleman. I don't care if I die. How's that.
Glasses and I met today to discuss what's going on for the rest of April. He thinks we have to take a more militant view. The anger is palpable, he says, and unless we harness it, things are going to get bad. The pressure is on to drop the nonviolent philosophy. We need to embrace change, but without the devastation of violence.
In Coleman's eyes, the riots got more civil rights bills being passed. Johnson is already rushing a bill through Congress to stop housing discrimination. Free the people from the ghettoes. He asked me what I thought about everything. "What are you willing to sacrifice for the revolution?"
I told him that I was willing to sacrifice our relationship. Which was meant to be funny. Too bad that Coleman leaves his sense of humor at the door whenever he talks about the Movement. Or when it's not his joke.
