Yesterday, you may have noticed, was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.
Most of us are well familiar with his I Have a Dream speech. Fewer of us are as familiar with the event at which it was delivered. Such was the case with me until I discovered one of my stories took place there. Since then I’ve watched videos, perused photos, read countless accounts of those who attended the 1963 March on Washington.
I’ve only this to say: when they finally figure the technology for time travel, that’s one of the first places I wish to visit.
Imagine . . . for one day people traveled from one side of the U.S. to the other–black and white, male and female, rich and poor, young and old, famous and not-so-much. They walked side-by-side. They sang with one voice. They shared pieces of cardboard to shield themselves from the sun. Church members made sandwiches for those in need–not caring to what religion they belonged.
Naturally, there were those not so taken with the event–to them it was a ‘farce,’ little more than a ‘picnic.’ But I say it was a glimpse–a glimpse at what could be if only we continue marching ahead, in love. But we must remember: We cannot walk alone. We cannot turn back. We cannot wallow in the valley of despair.
Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is a good reminder. But, as with most holidays, the sentiment is best kept alive the whole year through . . .