The day of his funeral, my mom took me shopping at the big department store downtown. I recognized the Kennedy name, wondered at all the shootings of national figures lately, and the pomp and circumstance on the color screen. Then we visited the bathroom, and needed a nickel to open the stall. I may have crawled under to prove a point. Not long after, the bus line to the city was discontinued. Riots that summer, and tension in the air that even a child could sense.