Perhaps I should have noted it then, but in posting my comment on the passing of Martin Luther King and mentioning my mother’s teaching me about the evils of racism, I missed the fact that she died exactly five years before King. As I came to visit her in the hospital that day in 1963, two weeks before my 16th birthday, I nonchalantly walked into the large ward in Hennepin County General Hospital. Continue reading Memories of a Mother’s Death →