November 23, 1963 was Saturday

The day after America was laced with shock and sorrow due to the assassination of our president, John F. Kennedy.

I have no clue what I did on that Saturday, after all I was in kindergarten. Crayons and cartoons, plus I'm sure a cat or two had my sole attention. I was in Iowa, so far from Dallas, Texas at the time. I had yet developed my love of geography, so Dallas or Washington DC, for that matter, could have been right next to the A & W Drive-In and I wouldn't know it. I was five years old.

What I do remember of that time--and it could be the day of the assassination, since I was with my Aunt Will as she babysat me while my mom went to work in the afternoon, until my dad pick me up about 5. I asked Aunt Will if President Kennedy was in Heaven. My aunt said he was. Then how could I still see him on TV if he was in Heaven? I wish I could remember how Aunt Will explained it to me. Must have been OK, since I went on about my business.

I do remember thinking of Caroline, who was a year or so older than me. I understood Caroline wasn't going to have her daddy anymore. That sunk in. I held my daddy close. I felt sad for Caroline then.

And I still feel sad for Caroline now.

April 4, 1968 was Thursday

Martin Luther King Jr was assassinated this day in Memphis.
I watched some cartoon on my TV while I waited for supper.
Then ABC broke into my cartoon, and I was upset--at first.
The action in our kitchen stopped.
I heard my daddy say "I'll be damned."
Silence from my mom.
I really didn't get it then.
Except I knew Martin Luther King's children wouldn't have a daddy.
Same way I felt when Caroline Kennedy lost her daddy.
On this day, so many years later. I still think of the King children.
One is Home with her parents.
The other three seem to be layered with discontent.
I wish I could ask my own parents their own thoughts on that Thursday in 1968.

Fast forward to this day in 2009.
What a glorious day the Lord has made and be glad in it.
Attended a breakfast meeting, which seemed to help me more than the meeting's leader.
More validation and fellowship about my passions.
More thought to step out of the box.
More than I thought I had--yet really haven't.
It's been a horrible week due to some ill fated decisions.
I thought He gave me the go-ahead.
Wrong.
It was more the go-head to see how I tackle a barrel of rotten apples.
Truth is, I feel the peace inside me as I work on the resolve.
He didn't bring me this far to leave me.

Just like He didn't leave Martin Luther King Jr.

We are blessed.

Up there...

The media tells me some folks believe Barack Obama is ‘uppity’ because he’s a graduate of Ivy League schools: Columbia and Harvard Law. Due to those achievements, it’s said he just can’t seem to connect with some voters.

Really?

Let’s see, The First President Bush and the current Bush, who vacates the White House in January 2009, both attended Yale. Then President John F. Kennedy and little brother Bobby both attended Harvard. Then there’s Bill Clinton, our first supposed ‘Black President,’ attended Yale for his law degree, only after completion of studies at Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar.

All that ivy sure blocks my view. Both Bushes are successful business men in their own right. JFK was Catholic, which scared some folks. His little brother Bobby, contributed to the Civil Rights Movement—which became a building block for Barack Obama’s position today. Then Bill Clinton was considered ‘inexperienced’—but he did have that Rhodes Scholar thing on his side. Was ‘uppity’ an adjective to describe any of these other Ivy League men? I doubt not. Just amazed the at the degree of scrutiny Barack Obama recieves for not looking like the ‘other’ guys.

I’ve been called uppity all her life. When it was uttered by people I knew—both Black (which includes family) and White-it hurt, I admit. Accusations of I did not sound or act Black enough—my goodness, what DOES that mean anyway? Or that I had too many White friends. Plus the closest I ever got to anything Ivy League was the purchase of a $1.98 ivy plant at Wal-mart.

Even in the 21st Century, a little stereotype goes a long way.

Come November 4, 2008, whether it’s an Obama win or loss, I will continue to bask in pride. My ancestors who built this country—literally-had families broken apart by being sold like livestock, yet treated lower than. My ancestors were denied any rights of any kind. For a time, slave logs did not list their names, just male, female or child. Because of what my ancestors endured then, there is success now.

Call it ‘uppity’ if you want. Call it a celebration for a moment in time that was and no longer is.