One of my earliest media memories is from the night Robert Kennedy was shot in 1968. I learned about it in my sleep. I was 12 years old.
Back then, I slept with a short wave radio on the floor right next to my bed. The radio was close enough that could reach down and adjust the fine-tuning all night long. I had a headset that I had taken apart so that I could slip the earpieces under my pillow and listen through my pillow.
Most nights I listened to the BBC broadcast from London. I was in New York. The BBC news then and now repeats the broadcast over and over all night.
Kennedy was shot just after midnight in Los Angeles. The news bounced off London back to me in New York.
I woke up and just knew what had happened. I had no memory of having heard the news. I just knew, like the information was sitting in the back of my brain and all I had to do was go back there and pick it up.
It was the strangest thing.
