Make America Great

The next time someone says, “Make America great again!” I suggest you answer, “Oh, you mean like in 1955 when two men with guns pulled a 14-year old boy out of bed at 2:30 in the morning, took him away and brutally tortured and murdered him beyond recognition because he whistled at a woman? And then were taken to trial and in spite of an eyewitness account and overwhelming evidence beyond any reasonable— or unreasonable— doubt, were acquitted by a jury who took exactly one hour and seven minutes to deliver their “not guilty” verdict? A verdict they had decided almost immediately, but took their time drinking soda pop to make it seem more official? Is that the great America you want to come back again?

If you only have time in your life to get to know one story that illuminates everything that is shameful, brutal, barbaric and wrong in American race relations, this could be it—the story of Emmett Till. Killing an innocent child, mutilating him beyond recognition, threatening to kill the eyewitnesses and the murderers getting off scot free with the full consent of the rigged legal system and dominant culture should be enough to convince anyone with a beating heart that something is terribly wrong, a Civil War that lasted 100 years past the last battle and continues in other forms today.

On Day 3 of our Social Justice field trip, we lived vicariously through Emmett’s horrific story. I won’t say tragic, because that implies some mythological forces at work beyond human control. This was the logical extension of consciously applied institutions that began from economic greed and continued through socially approved lies of white supremacy. At the end of video footage and spoken testimony, our trip leader asked us how it would be to meet the cousin who was sharing a room with Emmett when the men came and snatched him away. And then announced, “Here he is. Mr. Simeon Wright!”

It was the second body-shaking-with-sobs moment in the trip, as this beautiful and elegant man entered and proceeded to tell us the story from his personal experience and answer questions. Once again, the quality of understanding, forgiveness and ability to live on while never shaking the grief was worthy of the highest promise of human possibility.

Following his talk, the kids went out to play Frisbee and I took a group to the Waffle House. Having opened themselves to emotion of this depth, they needed some kid-like activities like these. And so did I.

Returning from Waffle House, I went to sit in the lobby to watch a bit of the basketball game and there was Mr. Wright sitting on the couch. I sat down next to him and we started talking basketball. I did ask him some more questions about the story and shared my own perspective on the evolution of racist culture, but mostly we talked about the trip he took out west, schools in Chicago, how he and his wife met. An affirmation of the recurring theme of the trip— ordinary people forced by circumstance to be courageous beyond imagination. But at the end—and in the middle, and at the beginning—they're just folks like anyone else happy to watch the ball game and talk about the price of eggs or the wonder of Yosemite.

I have a long list of stories that I feel would help heal the gaping wound of racism if only everyone heard them and discussed them and knew the historical context surrounding them, stories that could and should be a mandatory part of every school curriculum in every school in this country. Stories that would not just be told and passed over, but deeply examined and deeply felt and deeply considered. I’d throw out the entire history of ancient Mesopotamia or the list of wars or the succession of kings or presidents for one story like this. Or rather, that story would radiate out to those other historical forces in a way that puts it all in a moral context and educate the character as well as the mind and heart.

And I suggest beginning with the story of Emmett Till. As told by Simeon Wright in his book Simeon’s Story: An Eyewitness Account of the Kidnapping of Emmett Till.

And that, my friends, would make America great.

For the first time.

How Much Is Enough?

How to understand the level of greed revealed by the Panama Papers, the Big Short, The Wolf of Wall Street? Rockefeller, the former richest man in America, gives a clue. When he was asked “How much money is enough?”, he answered,

“Just a little bit more.”

Easy to criticize this attitude when it comes to money. 12 yachts or mansions or Rolls Royce cars does not give more human health and happiness than 11 or 5 or 1 or even none. But if money is at the core of your soul life, why, it makes perfect sense. Human desire is infinite and let’s face it, we’re all restless and at least a little dissatisfied and always looking for “just a little bit more.” How much piano practice, how many books sold, how much love received or given is enough? Just a little bit more.

My blogs this month have leaned to the political side. Except for the grand pleasure of playing piano with my bass and sax buddies at the Palace Hotel last week, this is the part of me that keeps rising to the surface in the midst of national campaigns, books I’m reading, classes my daughter is teaching in 5^th grade and this four-day trip to the South with the 8^th graders.

(And let me be clear. It is a clear symptom of what we now call White Privilege that I have the luxury of deciding whether to think about or write about injustice. I take my responsibility to engage seriously, but still am aware that it’s wrong that it’s a choice for me and not for many of my fellow citizens.)

So I’m doing my best here to make these entries interesting, informative and inspiring, but I imagine it’s not that fun to read. It’s holding our feet to a fire that is just a little too hot for comfort. Like the kid on the bus who said, “Are we going to get to do anything fun on this trip?”, there’s only so much grief, sorrow, confrontation, courageous conversations that we frail humans can hold. Though every word I write is laced with hope and tries to steer away from shame and blame and despair, still it’s rough going. I imagine readers would be much more pleased to hear about the uplift the sight of flowering rhododendrons can give, some juicy gossip from the trip, the fun watching the Warriors win their first play-off game.

How much is enough? There is enough craziness and outrage in this world to justify every word of every conversation aimed toward healing. But I imagine my friends would start to move away from me if every conversation ended with a moral and call for action. I was so delighted to hear that one hour before he died, Martin Luther King had a pillow fight with his colleagues in his hotel room.

What’s my moral here? There’s room for it all. When the call to speak out or act comes, I am prepared to be ready. But meanwhile I hope to live in the full bounty of the moment and respond as the moment suggests. If it’s flowers, it might be praising their beauty, if it’s a coffee with a friend, it might be sharing some gossip, if it Warriors playoff game, it might be shouting and stomping.

So headed on the bus to Montgomery, may I simply say:

• The flowers are beautiful.

• Kevin has a crush on Whitney.

• Go Warriors!

Where Was I?

Today’s social justice tour ended with a visit to Martin Luther King’s boyhood home in Atlanta, a walk through Ebenezer Church, a visit to the museum and a gathering at his gravesite. Before we walked to the grave, we saw a video about his last day on earth and the funeral that followed. And something struck me.

So I raised my hand to share and stood up to find my body shaking with sobs. The kids got quiet and waited and in-between the tears, I managed to say this:

“Everybody my age knows where they were when Kennedy got shot. Everybody in San Francisco can tell you where they were when the earthquake happened in ’89. Everybody in the U.S. knows where they were on 9/11. Catastrophic events that you can never forget.

But I’m sitting here watching this and trying as hard as I can to remember where I was when Dr. King was shot. I was 17 years old, a junior in high school and it seems like I should be able to remember the moment when Dr. King was shot.

But I can’t.

I can’t.

Let me be clear. I’m not blaming myself or my memory. I’m talking about my school, my family, my neighborhood, my country.

I ask again. Where was I when that happened?

And why can’t I remember?”

A Visit to Stone Mountain

“Hitler was a good organizer.”

“Columbus was an expert sailor.”

“Genghis Khan was an excellent horseman.“

These are the kind of comments you get when history is treated as a bunch of detached facts rather than a moral issue. Once again, I felt how the absence of commitment to a vital, multi-faceted and thought-provoking history curriculum in my country is staggering and disturbing.

Today we went to Stone Mountain outside of Georgia, the one Martin Luther King includes in his speech—“Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia!” What most people don’t know is that Stone Mountain is the Confederate Mount Rushmore, with huge stone carvings (photo later) of Jefferson Davis, Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee. And that when they began carving those figures in 1910 or so, the Ku Klux Klan decided to adopt the space as their meeting ground. Three slaveholders honored and revered in stone and a place that held one of the most devastating terrorist groups the United States has known.

Now it is an amusement park. You can take a tram to the top, have some kind of 4D experience (whatever that is) with Yogi Bear and Boo Boo, ride on the train, picnic on the grounds, bike around the beautiful paths or go visit the Antebellum Plantation. All under the watchful gaze of these Confederate heroes.

We didn’t have time to do any of that, but I was hungry to read some information and finally found the little information kiosk. Did it treat this place as the Germans treat Auschwitz, as a place where horrible things happen that never should happen again? Of course, not, silly, this is the United States. It talked about what a “gifted tactical commander” Stonewall Jackson was and how Jefferson Davis “succeeded against overwhelming odds” and then more accolades for Robert E. Lee. Not a word about the Klan.

Minniejean Brown talked about the moment on Oprah when one of the students who had tormented her at Little Rock apologized on television some 40 years later. When asked what that meant to her, she said, “It meant a lot. An apology means ‘it happened and it was wrong.’” As on a personal level, so on a collective level. Why is our country having such a hard time apologizing to Native Americans and African-Americans? The Stone Mountain information was a typical tap dance to the side and the fact that it is an amusement park yet another example of choosing stupefying entertainment over deep reflection and moral teaching. It’s fine to go on the merry-go-round after the apology, but weird to just keep circling around as if nothing ever happened.

Now to be fair, the northern Mount Rushmore also has two slave-owners deified (Washington and Jefferson) and a third big bully (Roosevelt). It’s not wholly fair to excuse Jefferson as a product of his time and not give Jefferson Davis the same latitude. I do think there is a difference of degree that’s worth paying attention to, but to be fair, I did look up, Wiki-fashion, something about these three Confederates. It seems Stonewall Jackson was as benevolent a slave-owner as one could be under the circumstances and Robert E. Lee was confused as hell, kind of not wholly for it, but whipping his runaway slaves at the same time. And how did he go to sleep at night? Here’s an excerpt from a letter he wrote to his wife in 1856:

“The blacks are immeasurably better off here than in Africa, morally, socially & physically. The painful discipline they are undergoing, is necessary for their instruction as a race, & I hope will prepare & lead them to better things. How long their subjugation may be necessary is known & ordered by a wise Merciful Providence.”

In other words, “Your call, God. I’m just doing what I think You think is right.”

Personally, I think it’s time to collectively say, “It wasn’t right. And it’s time to take you and your colleagues off of Stone Mountain. Or use it to teach a needed lesson to all who come by.”

Literary Juxtaposition

It’s Day 2 of the Sojourn Social Justice Journey I’m on with the 8^th graders and today’s lesson was the 1963 March on Washington. Always something new to learn. After first looking at the whole program— 11 speakers, 3 prayers, 3 songs—we came to King’s speech, the climax of the event. We read the speech and analyzed its content, with attention to the string of juxtapositions, the literary devices that elevated the talk to a work of art that both informed and inspired. The whole landscape of justice and its absence laid out in poetic images and stark contradictions:

• Great beacon light of hope/ Flames of withering injustice.

• Joyous daybreak/ Long night of captivity

• Lonely island of poverty/ Vast ocean of material prosperity

• Fierce urgency of now/ Tranquilizing drug of gradualism

• Dark and desolate valley of segregation/ Sunlit path of racial justice

• Quicksands of racial injustice/ Solid rock of brotherhood.

• Heat of oppression. Oasis of freedom.

• Jangling dischords/ Beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

Compare that to the current: “We’re gonna make America great again! America is going to be great. Again. And we’re gonna make it great.” Etc.

How far we have fallen. Exalted language is not the only barometer of intelligence and moral virtue. But it’s a good start. Anything worthwhile requires an effort that defies gravity, a moving upward into higher realms and poetic language is a climb up to our greater possibilities. The feelings we get in the presence of such exalted speech are markedly different than what we feel from a rant, a commercial, a string of clichés, a torrent of expletives. One of our students shared that she was inspired by the speech to improve her vocabulary so that she could access the full impact of Dr. King’s words.

If you look at the images above, it’s less vocabulary than the artful combination of words to create powerful images that resonate. There are references to the natural world—sunlight, daybreak, ocean, island, mountain, valley, etc.—that connect with human  emotion and qualities of the psyche. We can feel the quicksand that drags us down, hear the symphony that lifts us up and we are drawn into Dr. King’s visionary world with all our senses. He also makes subtle and overt literary references—to the Declaration of Independence, the Gettysburg Address, Shakespeare, the Bible, a song and spiritual, drawing from a cultural literacy that is the mark of a man who has made the effort to study and work and read and write and use his schooling to uplift and inspire.

And not just Dr. King, but also Clarence Jones who actually wrote the whole first half of the speech (and came to visit our school recently, so sadly when I was gone!). And in fact, all the speakers that day were notable for their eloquence in speech married to their commitment to action and their deep heartfelt feeling.

As I said, eloquence alone is not sufficient if it’s not tied to the body and heart and moral character. It’s such a pleasure to be in the company of these models of the truly educated Americans—that long list of notable activists from the Civil Rights Era—and to feel the kids responding with their own emerging eloquence.

It gives meaning to today’s most overused cliché: “Awesome!”