One of the best parts about being involved in the civil rights community is that I am offered fascinating articles most folks don’t see. Some of them are esoteric, but […]
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Martin Luther King, Jr.
You Came Here to Die, Didn’t You By Warner M. Montgomery A pretty blonde 18–year–old girl left her disapproving parents in California in June of 1965 to join the Civil […]
Ah, what’s on my mind? On July 4th, 1965, I was at Hickory Hill Baptist Church, Pineville, SC. It was a Sunday. The next day was supposed to be the […]
My husband Joe and I went to Stanford to meet with Dr. Clayborne Carson, the director of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute. After a yummy lunch […]
Please enjoy the article Sena Christian did on me in the Press Tribune.
In many ways Day 5 of the Solano College Civil Rights Travel Course is the most meaningful for me. In December of 1964 I turned eighteen – the magic number. Although black children had demonstrated in Birmingham and registered voters in projects in Mississippi and Alabama, I had to be an adult before I could volunteer to work with any of the major civil rights organizations. (I couldn’t vote. The voting age was still 21.) Selma occurred three months after I turned eighteen. I watched the marches there with different eyes than I had the civil rights events that went before.
Let’s talk creature comforts before we go back to Montgomery, Alabama. Dr. McCord has made sure there is a cooler full of ice and bottled water and she reminds us constantly that we need to drink it since we aren’t used to the heat and the humidity. And, there are snacks from chips, Fiber One Bars, brownies to many others. This is good planning since our meals are often far apart and we do get hungry.
“Fear is mastered through faith.” Martin Luther King, Jr.
Today we skim along the highway in an air conditioned bus singing freedom and gospel songs under the direction of Edward, Gloria Jean and Khafre. Some sing, others talk, read, play Solitaire on their computers or listen to their iPODS. I think they miss the point of the songs we sing. These songs are the prayers and the symphony of the Civil Rights Movement – not just songs they might sing at camp. They are a form of Soul.
Please enjoy this article from my local paper. Roseville woman pens memoir about registering blacks to vote