Brothers and Sisters,
I am writing this on the eve of the Observance of Dr. King's Holiday. Every year I take time out to teach my daughters about the movement that placed Dr. King at the forefront of a people's quest for freedom.
I grew up, as many of us did, learning about Dr. King and his service to a people yearning to be treated as full citizens inside of a nation that claimed to be the example of freedom for the world.
I was born in February 1967. Dr. King's life ended the next year. I wish I could have heard him in real life. I visited the Lorraine Motel many years ago with my daughter when she was about 7 years old. If you have never visited that landmark, you may want to visit it soon.
The tour was self directed, but you also had the ability to have a guided tour. I chose to walk with my daughter and explain what we were viewing as a moment to bond and build a relationship with my daughter. The museum was quite interesting. When my daughter and I happened upon a burnt out bus, she inquired why would an old bus be in a museum. I began to tell her why the bus was burned in the first place. She gave me a look of confusion that only a young girl could who did not have the context of that time in our nation.
We happened by a replica of a jail cell. We went in the jail cell and sat on the iron beds. She asked why are we sitting in here? I explained that many, many times in Dr. King's life and in the lives of others the jail cell was a meeting place as much as it was a place for "the bad guys". I began to explain that Dr. King and many people, men and women, were arrested for trying to make a difference in the lives of people who were not being treated fairly and that often times large groups of people were put in prison for the smallest of reasons. She gave me the same look she gave me while looking at the burnt bus. I stated to her that one of Dr. King's most famous letters was written from a jail cell. I also told her that a jail cell, when occupied for justice, is more a place of triumph than it is a place of shame and degredation (Dr. King taught me that lesson).
The tour ends with a view of the rooms Dr. King and his people were staying in before he was assasinated. The rooms are said to be left in the condition they were in at the time of the killing. Mahalia Jackson (at least at the time of my visit) was singing in the background. At this time, I was not talking to my daughter, I was working very hard to hold back the tears. I was always emotional over this event, but seeing the room-the plates, coffee cups, bed turned back-and looking out at the spot on the balcony AND hearing Mahalia sing was a bit too much. I was glad my daughter did not ask me a question at that time, nothing would have come out.
I encourage all of us to pick up a speech and read it, pick up a book of Dr. King's life and read it, or find someone who kinda knows about the man and the movement and speak to them about it. I encourage all of us to re-engage in the study of what it meant to speak out when death could have been the result of our words and actions.
On the eve of Dr. King's observance, let us endeavor to re-educate ourselves and educate others of the cost of freedom....
Until the next time,
Cyrus Marcellus Ellis
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