Posted tagged ‘marching’

“It does not matter how long you live, but how well you do it.”

January 19, 2015

“Martin Luther King Jr. has now been dead longer than he lived. But what an extraordinary life it was.

At 33, he was pressing the case of civil rights with President John Kennedy. At 34, he galvanized the nation with his “I Have a Dream” speech. At 35, he won the Nobel Peace Prize. At 39, he was assassinated, but he left a legacy of hope and inspiration that continues today.” from the Seattle Times

I was in high school when I began to notice the world around me in a different way. All of a sudden it was far bigger than my small town. Back then I didn’t know a single Black person. There were none where I grew up, but a parish priest began to open our eyes and through him we met Black teenagers from Boston. Through them I became aware of social inequities, of Jim Crow and of the struggles of Blacks to register to vote. My friends and I were too young to go South, to march or register voters, but we were more than willing to do small tasks for even they had impact. We worked with snick, SNCC, going door to door to raise money. We attended NAACP meetings and passed out pamphlets. We did what we could.

Without realizing it, I had developed a social conscience which would forever be part of my life. It helped define what the 60’s meant to me. During college, I picketed and marched for a variety of causes I had come to believe in. I joined the Peace Corps, my recognition that we all have a responsibility to make this world a better place. I still feel the same way especially about my small town.

“May the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own country! “

July 4, 2013

July 4th was always exciting when I was growing up. The next town over had one of the great parades which seemed to last forever filled as it was with bands and floats. We’d go to a house right on the parade route which had a huge porch where we’d all hang out to watch the parade. The table inside was covered with foods like potato salad and hot dogs and burgers and watermelon. Popsicles were in the freezer. It was eat when you’re hungry. At night came the fireworks. We never went that often, but I could see them from my house when they colored the sky high in the air. When I was older and a member of a drill team, I marched in that parade. When we’d get to the white house with the porch, the whole crowd of people would yell my name. I was both embarrassed and pleased. When I was older, my friends and I would go to the fireworks. We’d bring a blanket and some food and stake out a spot right near the water over which the fireworks would burst. We couldn’t help ourselves. The oohs and ahs came out of our mouths almost every time fireworks burst overhead and filled the sky with colors and patterns.

I remember the decorated carriage and bicycle contests held in the morning, before the parade. My sister won the year she was a hula girl. Her  doll carriage was frilled with colored crepe paper looking like a hula skirt.

One year I saw Big Bother Bob Emery at the bandstand near the lake. He was on television every day when I was a little kid. I remember we’d toast President Eisenhower with milk as Hail to the Chief played. Big Brother was a TV icon to me. He’d play his uke and sing The Grass Is Always Greener.

I remember sparklers and how excited we were to have our own fireworks. I’d hold the sparkler as close to the bottom as I could when my father lit the top. I remember how sometimes a spark would land on my hand or arm and how it burned just a little. We’d spin the sparklers and make our own light show. The sparklers made a hissing sound when they burned. We’d each get one at a time and then we could back for more until the boxes were empty.

July 4th seemed to last forever, well into the night, well beyond my usual bedtime.