The Middle of Mayhem

Today I read about protests in Nepal against the Maoists who are trying to overthrow the long-standing monarchy.

Reminded me of when I was a young girl, and my older brother was a page for the Democratic Convention in Chicago, 1968, working for Hubert Humphrey. One evening during the convention, we (my dad and I) were watching TV and a news story broke that there was a riot on Michigan Avenue in front of the (then) Conrad Hilton, where the event was taking place. I remember seeing on the screen bright lights, Chicago's finest, hippies and batons flying as everyone scuffled in the streets. My father sat up and said, "...let's go, we're going to get Johnnie." We hopped in the old t-bird and drove straight down the Eisenhower to the hotel, about 10 miles away. I remember my father pulling right up to the front door on Michigan Ave, and leaving the car running, said "wait here" and went inside to get his son out of harm's way. I sat in the back - I was about 11 years old? - and watched the police beat the hell out of young protesters, right there in front of me. Not long later, my dad emerged from the hotel with my brother, and we drove slowly through the crowd of people back home to Austin Blvd.

Now that I think of it, my father was 47 at the time.