I'm now reading the current bestseller, "The Help." I'm finding it very real and very painful.
Then, yesterday morning this world renowned writer, teacher and United Methodist bishop, Will Willimon, preached in my church. Pretending to be a curmudgeon, he was funny and entertaining.
Also profound.
He spoke some about Martin Luther King, Jr. and about how the only people who should be allowed to speak on MLK Day are those who're willing to go out into the community the next day.
I should have felt proud about doing both of those things - and I did - but I also felt the pain.
As a young white woman out organizing on the streets and speaking in white churches and colleges on racism in the 60s and 70s I can tell you that it was very, very scary.
Following are parts of two letters written during that time.
The first was written by me to my mother-in-law who was totally clueless about the Civil Rights movement.
April 10, 1968
...Ken and I marched in Martin Luther King's funeral procession yesterday. It was truly history in the making and we feel blessed to be here at this particular time.
We stood right up close to many great people, Bobby and Ethel Kennedy, John Lindsey, Sammy Davis, Jr., etc. The funeral lasted about 7 hours all together but we had to leave early. We both had to get back to work. Atlanta has had absolutely no trouble so far and it's been due, in part, to people like Ken who've worked hard to keep things quiet.
We were out until 2 A.M. the night before the funeral driving people from the airport and helping them find places to spend the night. Lots of people, black and white, opened their homes and we had some sleeping at the church.
The next was written to me by a friend and co-worker:
...We had a great time attempting to save this world. However not all agreed with our "M.O."
Remember January in Washington, 1974. Ken led the way despite the appointed leadership objections, and we had a marvelous time parading around the White House. Freezing to death, we were warmed by the eloquence of Jesse Jackson's fire. He thrilled us long before the Rainbow Coalition and others heard of his passion.
...So maybe we haven't saved the world - just ourselves. Much love to you. Keep working on the world.
(The picture above was taken at that Civil Rights march in 1974. My husband's on the left. I'm freezing to death in the red coat.)
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