This date is sobering to me, not for where I was (like Cinci/Steve), but for where an old teacher I know was.
On May 4th 1970, he was a young teacher. He was winding up his first year as the principal/teacher at the elementary school where the children of Kent State faculty were taught. The school was close enough to the action that he heard the shots from his classroom. He told his students to get under their desks, and then started running from room to room to tell everyone else to do the same. In his mind, he was just doing his job. Student safety was the principal's responsibility.
But he was more than just a principal and a teacher. He was also a father. He could not resist running first to the 2nd grade classroom where his own daughter was. Upon ensuring that his daughter was as safe as he could make her, he continued making his chilling rounds.
I can't offer a dramatic ending to this story. Fortunately, everyone from that school made it home safely that day. And it's a good thing for my son that they did. The 2nd grader hiding under her desk on May 4th 1970 would, 32 and 1/2 years later, give birth to him.
It's too soon to share this story with him. Today, I'll just watch him frolic on the beach in Ft. Myers with that old teacher and keep these sobering thoughts to myself. Someday though, he should know that the man he calls PaPa was looking out for him long before he was born.