4. The Gulf War (does that count?)
5. The Rodney King beating, trial, and riots.

My list is everything pre-teen years.

1 and 2 were huge. My school did a whole play about the Challenger, and we did a fair amount of reading about space and NASA. My teacher at that school also made a big deal about the issue with dolphins in tuna.

3. La Bamba was, by far, our favorite movie. My grandma had the VHS tape, and we wore that thing out. Richie was my second musical idol, after Michael Jackson, and the end always killed me inside. I wasn't alive on The Day The Music Died, but I was keenly aware of the tragedy because of that movie. It's still my favorite movie to this day. It wasn't until later that I realized that the.songs in the movie were all Los Lobos songs, but Richie remains a treasured icon to me, and he's also what made me dig into Los Lobos and Carlos Santana later in life.

In fact, Bob was doing a meet and last year. My daughter had a play that same day, and I did briefly entertain the idea of skipping it to meet Bob. Briefly. My wife would have been there, either way, lmao.

4. Man... i'd be up all nighy, watching those night vision videos. They haunted me.

5. That was another that got seemingly around the clock coverage. But there's a LOT that I associate directly with this.


Right before the end of the trial, and subsequent riots, we were homeless in San Bernardino. Sometimes we had a motel, other times we had a shopping cart, and would wind up in shelter, or in the home of some stranger. I remember eating lunch at elementary schools and dinner at parks.

For my 11th birthday, my aunt came and picked me up. I thought I was going to.stay for a week or.so, but for whatever reason, she kept me for a year. I was happy to be out of that situation, but felt incredibly guilty because my mom and 4 younger siblings were still out there in the streets.

I felt much more guilty when the riots hit, because I was relatively safe in a podunk asssed, hillbilly desert. I got the privilege of being called a wetback at school every day, but I had no fucking clue what was happening with my siblings.

The were ok, thankfully, but some other shit happened. My youngest brother was 2, maybe 3? Anyhow he got a pot of boiling oil spilled on him. My mom was making donuts from pillsbury biscuits, and he grabbed the handle. He was burnt pretty badly. That shit killed me when I found out, and I was so pissed at my mom, because I was always the one cooking and taking care of the kids, and I felt that that shit would not have happened if I were there

Honestly. That's easily the most significant trauma of this. The king beating, trial, and the riots are all a backdrop to that situation and I can't think King or the riots, horrible as they were for so many, without thinking of all of that other shit.