April 10, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
The convent is so beautiful. Simple and nice. Becca and I are sleeping in a dorm room. There are five bunk beds per room. We found an empty bunk. Becca took the upper bed because she's not afraid of rolling off like I am.
As soon as we arrived, we each took a warm shower. I didn't realize how grubby I felt until I slipped into bed. I didn't even hear Becca come in.
Ron and Craig told us to sleep late if we wanted, but the convent rules are that we had to be up by 9 a.m. Still, we both got 11 hours of sleep. I feel so good right now.
The past few days are far away. I know they've happened. It makes me heartsick. But yesterday feels like it happened years ago.
I'm writing this from the Indiana Headquarters, which is once again in a hotel. The doorman is a young black man who makes a special production out of opening the door for us. He smiles and salutes us sometimes. He isn't allowed to wear political buttons, but he says that he likes what we're doing. Craig says his name is Benjamin. I might have to introduce myself to him. I think Benjamin is very handsome.
Ron tells us that The Senator did go to the funeral in Atlanta yesterday. He didn't say much more than that. I was once again disappointed. Craig says that he understands how I feel completely, but that Bobby is pandering to people's emotions. Of course Becca agreed, but at least she thought about it for a minute before saying it.
I'd like to call Mrs. Stoutmiller sometime soon. I'd like to know what she thinks about all this.
