Robert Benchley has a piece where he talks about photographs of historic happenings. He notes that there is usually someone in the corner going about his business not having a clue of the significance of the moment. He says that would be him, the little guy looking in the wrong direction. I think it might be me. I can be pretty oblivious myself.
Several years ago I met a man who grew up in the same housing development where I lived. He lived down the block in 5995 and in some ways it could have been anywhere for all the attention I paid. I was pretty localized to 5935 and rarely went down the block. He told me that his father and grandfather were pastors in a black church and that Martin Luther King Jr. used to come talk to them. He remembers them all sitting on the terrace at 5995. I wish someone had taped their conversations; I wish I had been a moth on the wall. History was taking place down the block and I was probably trading Beatles cards with my friends.
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