In November of nineteen sixty seven I turned nineteen feeling as though I had grown by leaps and bounds since my graduation from high school. The world was in a state of upheaval, but I had become more focused in my personal life. I realized the fragility of life from my own experiences and from following the news. Somehow I felt compelled to take control of my tiny impact on the world. I began to realize that I was stronger than I had thought of myself as being. I more and more often entertained the idea of becoming an educator. I had found refuge in learning throughout my childhood and somehow it felt right to share the power of knowledge with others. Preparing for a future as a teacher suddenly felt as right for me as being with Mike. The former confusion of my life was replaced with a laser sharp determination to build my life around conveying the joy of learning that my father had given me. My pathway seemed clear.

In December Mike proposed to me under the lights of my family’s Christmas tree. It seemed fitting that I would promise myself to him in the season that had always seemed to bring me so much joy and comfort even in the direst of times. I felt confident that my personal journey was heading in the right direction with Mike by my side. The War in Vietnam and the losses incurred by that conflict made it clear to me how important people would always be to me. If I had one purpose that drove me, it was to find ways to better the lives of others. With Mike’s encouragement and respect I had finally developed a passion and a purpose that would drive my life. It was a grand partnership that we agreed to forge on that Christmas of nineteen sixty seven. 

Nineteen sixty eight would become known as a dramatic turning point for me and for the world. Nothing felt calm. The war continued to rage as well as the protests against it. I suppose that in times of crisis there is a human tendency of urgency. Somehow Mike and I knew that if we were to begin working together toward common goals our marriage and independence from our parents needed to happen sooner rather than later. We set our sights on a wedding in the fall and began to plan the event. 

It was time for me to get to know Mike’s parents better so we often spent our time together with them. I had to admit to myself that I felt a bit uncomfortable and awkward around them. Their lifestyle was so unlike what I had known up to that point. Even the contents of their snack filled refrigerator demonstrated the visible contrast to the bare bones inventory of the one in my home. Mike’s mother, Mary, was a lovely woman with beautiful hands that she used to make her very definite points of discussion seem even more important. She was a tiny woman with a commanding confidence that was admittedly intimidating to me. I admired her self assurance, but also felt quite unworthy in her presence in spite of her efforts to be welcoming to me. 

It had been so long since my father had died that I tended be unsure of myself around men other than my uncles. Mike’s father, Julio Gonzalez was no exception. He had met Mary at the University of Houston where he had enrolled after serving in the Korean War. Mary and Julio had encountered one another in the Cougar Den one day and felt an almost instant connection. Mary had been married before and Mike had been a child of that failed liaison. She was rebuilding her life when she met Julio who had been born and raised in Puerto Rico. She found him to be fascinating and it was not lon gafter meeting that they married when Mike was about five years old,. Julio, who would later officially adopt Mike, had become a father by default, a role that he took quite seriously. 

In retrospect I suspect that the vibe of  reticence that I felt from Mary and Julio had mostly to do with their worry about how young and naive Mike and I were at the time. They were anxious that we were rushing into an adult world that they feared we were quite far from being able to handle. It would only have been natural for them to feel cautious about giving us their blessing to move forward together with little more than a wing and a prayer. 

In the meantimes life was happening with or without us. I was washing dishes one day when my mother rushed in to announce that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had been assassinated. I remember dropping a plate onto the floor where it shattered. I sat among the shards of glass sobbing and wondering how hate could fester so much in the world. Finding and offering love felt so necessary in that moment. 

President Johnson had already announced that he would not seek reelection. I had grown closer to Mike’s parents when they accompanied Mike and I to a rally for Eugene McCarthy, an antiwar candidate who had garnered the attention of young people who felt that the Vietnam War was an unjust cause. We rallied around the Senator in Hermann Park hoping to send a message that we were tired of seeing young men returning home in caskets for a conflict that seemed to have no real purpose for the United States. McCarthy’s drive would later lose steam when Robert Kennedy entered the race, almost instantly becoming the front runner for the Democratic nomination. 

In June Kennedy seemed to have secured enough delegates to become the man who would run against Richard Nixon in November. When he was assassinated on the night that his delegate count was secured, I began to wonder if the world was going to collapse before I even reached my planned wedding date of October 4, 1968. Everything seemed dark and uncertain, but I knew that I had learned how to weather any situation just from watching my mother in the days and years after our father’s death. I had every faith that Mike and I would be fine, but I was no so sure about the state of our nation. We were living through a year when the world seemed to be on fire.