MLK Day

I am old. I was in high school the day Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed. I think I was in the car with my mother, or perhaps that was the day after listening to the news. The point is, I remember.  What was talked about and what I remember was the fear that Martin Luther King, Jr. promoted peaceful protest and now that he was dead, protests might become violent. There might be a race war in my country.

There was a call for calm.  There were calls for peace.  Of course, there were also calls for retribution. What I remember about my small town  corner of the world was that there started to be a little more racial awareness. In the rural high school I attended, there was not a single black student. None lived in the area.  If you went to the small town near my home village, there was a black population.  My grandma lived on the border of the area largely populated by black people.  She wasn't afraid.  Nobody was afraid.

But, looking back, I am sure that African Americans couldn't buy houses in some areas of that town.  There were restaurants and stores where I never saw people of color. There was subtle unspoken white privilege. As long as people stayed in "their place" there were no problems.  This wasn't the South.  This was Illinois.

It seemed like a simpler, happier time, but I realize that depends on which side of the "tracks" you lived on.  There were no violent marches in that town, as I recall.  But, gradually over the years, things have changed.  There is still a ways to go.  Maybe there is still a long way to go.  But, some things have gotten better for everyone.

I fear that we are on the verge of the race war I feared when I was in high school. Black Lives Matter meet the Proud Boys, et al.  I am not smart enough to know the answer to this problem.  I pray. I witness and promote peace when I can. And I pray. When the pandemic is over, I hope that I can go out and do something to promote peace and racial justice.  I pray about that.