The March: Just found 6 pages with this title typed on now-yellowed paper in a file from my late father about joining the March in Selma March 7, 1965. Today my son joins People's Climate March in NYC. My dad flew to Selma from St. Louis (yeah, St. Louis). My son flew from Seattle where he is an organizer for environmental causes.
Reading what I assume is my dad’s story gave me perspective on a legacy. He was 1st generation American who came of age in poverty during the Depression and in tragedies during WWII. Yet he believed in an ideal. He believed that we could achieve that ideal. Maybe if I’d found these yellowed papers sooner, I would have flown to NYC, even if that flight increased my personal carbon footprint.
Instead I am typing my dad’s story into my computer to send to my son and my extended family who marched today and anyone else who, like me, looks for what we can learn from stories of people who joined in these struggles for justice through history. The stakes are always high and now the struggle pervades every part of life on this planet that I can see.
I long to edit the unconscious attitudes and language that were acceptable to him then that now carry offense. We each do our best in our time. My friend from a First Nation in Canada says “They’re treating us all like Indians now.” Still, people hope enough to join the march. I can't wait to hear their stories.
From “The March”
“I have said that it took little courage for us to come. It was different with the local Negroes. Since I now had a clearer picture of the social climate in which they lived, a fear came over me as we left. Not for myself, but for them. A friend from Creve Coeur had brought along a pocket tape recorder. During the march he kept dashing out to elicit responses from the Negroes.
“What did you ask them?” I queried.
“Well, mainly I asked if they thought we were doing any good.”
“And what did they say?”
“They were shy at lots of questions, but at this one, they all said, “Yes! Yes!”