MLK

Much is being written today about the 40th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. It is one of those events in life that you remember where you were. I was in the bathroom of our home in Columbia, sitting on the toilet. My father was bending over me and scrubbing my face with Pernox for acne. We had the transitor radio on and heard the news. My mother came in from the bedroom, and we all knew there would be trouble. I grew up with seeing separate water fountains, separate rest rooms, and separate entrances to movie theatres. I grew up with separate funeral homes, separate schools, and separate churches. I may not have agreed with all of that, but it was a fact of life. In some respects, we are still separate. I was 14. Every Saturday, I would ride my bike down to Five Points, which was in a predominantly black neighborhood of Columbia. There was a movie theatre that I liked to go to. But, that weekend 40 years ago was different. Behind the theatre, I was attacked by four black kids. They threw rocks and bricks at me and my bike. I couldn't get away fast enough. They didn't know that my cousin had rode with Dr. King in Alabama and Mississippi. They didn't know that my Grandmother had been persecuted in Alabama for teaching black kids. They didn't know that I had been taught to treat everyone equally. They just knew that I was white, and they were black. So, during this time as we reflect on 40 years ago, let us not think it is a white vs. black issue. It is a people issue. In the old hymn, the words are "Red, Yellow, Black and White, God made us all the same in his sight". Think about it.