I remember the first time I heard The Reverend Dr. King speak.
I was sitting on a beautifully carved wooden bench, in my family’s kitchen, which was also our TV room. I was eight years old. My mother gave me a grilled cheese sandwich, my favorite snack. Then she said there was a man giving a speech she wanted me to hear. She sat next to me on the bench, and my dad joined us from his study. The year was 1966, and our TV stood as a separate structure with two tall martian-antennae. The screen was black and white, and as Mom adjusted the antennae, the zig-zags clarified into a picture.
A man stood on a stage, speaking to a crowd. I remember being annoyed that my parents were asking me to listen to an adult talk, with nothing interesting like music or cartoons to back it up. Then I began to listen. I remember becoming quite still, mesmerized. His words rang out, pulsing and rhythmic, an intricate blend of sound and sense, building to one crescendo after another. I could feel The Reverend Dr. King, literally feel his presence, a vibrant physicality. When he finished speaking, my parents took me in their arms. Only then did I realize I had dropped my grilled cheese sandwich to the floor.
Rest In Peace, Martin Luther King, Jr.
Novels By Amy Kaufman Burk
Hollywood High: Achieve The Honorable
Caroline Black, 15 years old, leaves her college prep academy for the local public high school, which opens her world. Written in reaction to witnessing gay students bullied in high school.
Caroline Black, a rookie psychology intern, goes through one year of training, working with her first patient – a young man who is stormy, seductive, complex and troubled. Written in support of healthy sex and sexuality, in support of same-sex parents, and a voice against the stigma of psychotherapy.
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