Thirty Years Ago

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 We all know exactly where we were on June 17, 1994.

It was the night that O.J. and Al Cowlings led a low-speed chase that ended in O.J.’s arrest.

The story has been done to death (bad word there) but this is all about that single night.

My brother Jeff was driving the car through a Maryland traffic jam. Pops was in the backseat, nodding off and then waking up long enough to nod off again.

We were heading back to Buffalo after watching the Yankees pummel the hapless Orioles at Camden Yards:

At one point in the traffic backup, Jeff got out of the car and knocked on the door of an RV - it was HOT! We didn’t pack any drinks.

Jeff came back with drinks for all of us.

And we listened to the radio as the O.J. slow-speed chase was broadcast for the world to hear.

At that point, we were all still firmly in the camp of disbelief.

Not O.J.! He was THE man in Buffalo! They must have got it wrong.

We were hanging on every word.

He wasn’t going to kill himself, was he?

And, of course, we learned that O.J. wasn’t quite the wonderful guy that he seemed to be.

Thinking back on it, I think the most tragic thing to come out of it was the fact that the news media figured out that they could sell the news as entertainment.

It devolved into talking heads, breaking news and alternate facts.

Resulted in the mess we are in these days.

Thirty years…

…seems like yesterday.


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