We here at the little ranch house are flying the stars and stripes and the peace flag to commemorate MLK Jr's birthday (which was January 15, 1929). His desire and ability to convey civil rights, human rights, and promoting peace were such an inspiration to me. I'm so glad he was born and lived a meaningful life.
The 60s were a trip. So many wonderful leaders were assassinated, and violence was everywhere. Dinnertime's nightly news ritual was how many bombs were dropped in Vietnam today, along with a death count. Policemen in riot gear beating blacks with batons or water hoses. People running and screaming and being dragged by their hair. No wonder I had nightmares on a regular basis. No wonder I don't watch the news as an adult.
The suffering hasn't ended either, but I feel a sense of hope. Like something around the corner will be worth the price of admission. That maybe the economy has to crumble to the ground, so we can get rid of the fat, fat cats, fat cars, fat CEOs. Watch out I'm climbing up on my soapbox.
I used to be a very political animal. Political History was one of my majors in college. (I switched around a lot - really just liking everything I was currently in to.) Recently I used to write a political column for the newspaper. I was even asked to run for office by a political watchdog group. None of this is that remarkable except for the fact that I'm a minority around here. I'm a liberal. Where I live is staunchly conservative. People around here don't celebrate MLK day. Some of them might not even know who he is.
So, although I left the political scene, I will proudly celebrate this day, this uppity black day, because tomorrow will be even better!