On the day Reagan was shot, I was walking home from the bus stop in Auburn to my home more than a mile away.
I was just off Interstate 80. The day was hot. I passed by a car parked beside the road. Inside, I saw a man flogging himself.
I’d never seen this before. I’d never done this myself. I was shocked and appalled.
I walked on. A minute later, the guy drives up beside me and asks me if I want a ride.
“No, thanks,” I said and walked on, scared to death.
I had never encountered anything like this. This was not the way Seventh-Day Adventists behaved.