This Vote is for Lucinda            I was just nineteen on November 22, 1963—a failing student at Orlando Junior College, drifting away from any kind of education, disinterested in the possibilities that awaited me: teacher, nurse, secretary, housewife, mother. Like nearly everyone alive on that day, I remember where I was—walking from class to Scotland Yard—the oddly named campus center.            A boy I’d known from high school came out of the Yard crying. “They shot Kennedy.” The agony he…See More