On September 10, 2001 my husband canceled his flight scheduled for the following morning to have dinner with one of his friends in Boston. The plane he should have boarded crashed in the Twin Towers. My husband drove from Boston to San Francisco in two days. This unreal road trip started a family tradition.
Almost every summer we drive from California to Maine. Our first road trip was in memory of my husband’s very first one. Soon we understood that driving was the only way to discover the extraordinary landscape, the unique cities, and human diversity of our adoptive country.
Today in honor of Martin Luther King’s birthday, I remember a leg of our 2012 road trip.
On June 18, we stopped in Memphis, Tennessee.
A night at Graceland was my gift to my husband who is a huge fan of Elvis Presley.
The following morning we drove to Mulberry Street.
On April 4, 1968 Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated there while standing on the balcony of his room at the Lorraine Motel.
Nowadays the National Civil Rights Museum is housed inside the motel and a wreath is hung at the exact spot where Martin Luther King Jr. was shot.
Today I remember.