I was almost convinced that they would come, Martin’s people had said they would, 500 ministers from all over the US, to defend our non violent protest of the inequities in our society. The Quakers, ladies in skirts and hats and white gloves from the Midwest, older graying men and women from the Philadelphia group, we young organizers who had rounded them all up in Cape May at the religious conference and bussed them down to DC with our high flying dreams and our guitars and songs of protest….We shall overcome…overcome the narrowness of human beings in this sea of prejudice and democracy…. The sun beat down on us as we milled around with thousands of others of all colors, from everywhere, and we planted our nonviolent feet on the Capitol steps….
How many years ago had I met him at that church in South Philly, when I went with my friend Christina and her parents, just back from Quaker service in India where they had met him…I was only 14, but had been marching around City Hall, picketing Woolworths, studying Ghandi and nonviolent protest for at least three years. My father’s civil rights activities had already impacted my family from my early childhood. It was always a part of our family life to defend civil rights and to reach out to others, from the Fresh Air kids that came from NYC each summer, to the Levittown family that sold their house to the first AfroAmerican family with cross burning on lawns and threats of the same to us…
Yes Martin, that proud and dark complected man at the pulpit with the mellifluous voice had won me over that day, he seemed like a living Jesus, a person who lived the message of all religions, that God is Love, that human beings can tolerate differences and respect and honor each other….his words were so powerful…
Shaking his hand after the service and meeting him at the Church after his visit to India to learn about nonviolent protest, sealed my fate….
I too had gone on Quaker service with my family, but to Africa. I too had imbibed Martin’s version of Ghandi in my activities, heart and thinking. And now he was no more….and we were here…Carrying on for him, towards
living his Dream…
The numbers of people never came, or at least I didn’t see them, before the police arrived…no dogs like in the South, no suffering like Martin and his people, but we were his people. They roped us off and headed us off for detainment. Martin was with us, and somehow today, I still see him, remember him, his guidance and noble words…his example. Martin, you are with us every day.
We shall overcome despite slow slow progress, and human nature…
Thank you, Martin Luther King.
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