History Lesson
June Capossela Kempf
Sitting on the front porch waiting for the school bus with my granddaughter, G G. (Gorgeous Granddaughter). My attention is split between the time and the street corner; hoping the bus would come before she drives me crazier than I already am for signing up for this detail in the first place – really? I cherish these precious moments, sharing and bonding with her
Today, she started off by asking; “How old are you? When I answered, she swung into gear with a slew of questions.
“Do you remember Martin Luther King?”
‘Sure do.”
“When he was alive? You remember his march in Washington. You were living – then?
“Yeah, I watched it from a distance. I had a dream,” I quoted. Then, reflected how I wished I did more to support the dream - how I admired the people who marched for freedom back then. As she struggled with the idea that her grandma witnessed her recent history lesson, I heard the words to Aretha’s ‘ R_E_S_P_E_C_T’ tumble around my brain , mixing it up with freedom songs of the sixties. I softly sang, ‘If I Had a Hammer’.
“How did you feel when he got killed?”
“So scared. I thought his dream for freedom would be lost forever and there would be rioting - everywhere.”
“.. But that didn’t happen, right?”
“His message got through. Laws were passed that not only inspired racial tolerance but protected the poor and disabled throughout the country.”
G G carefully studied me like I was a talking relic dug up from an archeological dig.
“Did you go to Woodstock?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I explained that I was a little older than most of the people who went. I was married with a child, a house; and I didn’t approve the drugs and the wild crowds, but was there in spirit.” Blah. Blah, Blah.
“Were you a Dove or a Hawk?” she said.
Luckily, the bus arrived which enabled me to dodge the question. “I’ll tell you later,” I said.
“Never mind, Grandma… You were no Hawk. “
How could she know? Especially since in the beginning I thought we were fighting the good war in Vietnam. Once I saw the destruction and realized the privileged could avoid the draft and we were losing, at a terrible cost, I leaned towards the bird of peace. But, I stayed on the fence. Did I get out and march - face the fire hoses or write one letter of protest?
I decided to talk to her tomorrow and tell her how during those days; I didn’t speak out for fear of offending my friends and neighbors - that the bird I was most closely associated with was a chicken?
Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll tell GG that it is never too late to take a stand for your values. We see now, as history repeats itself; that freedom can’t be taken for granted or expected to endure if we don’t fight like our forefathers to preserve liberty and justice “ – all over this land.”
Thank you Dr. King – Peter,Paul and Mary, Aretha . And thank Heaven for G.G.
June Capossela Kempf: Essayist and Author of : Yo God! Jay’s Story, a memoir and Lady of the Dollhouse, a YA mystery