On 9/15/1963, four young girls were killed in a church bombing in Birmingham.
Today, in my small southern town there was a peaceful march to bring attention to racism of 2020.
We pat ourselves on the back & say how far we have come. We ignore the fact that 60 years have really not made much, if any, of a difference.
I was 11 years old that September in 1963. I am white. Why do I remember that tragic event so well? Why did it all come back to me today?
It is my mother. She was a much older mother than most, having me in her 42nd year and willowed at age 48. We know with age comes wisdom. She never took part in a protest, probably never knowingly broke a law. Her leaning and beliefs were what I would call simply following the golden rule.....Do unto others. In today’s world she would be tagged a liberal. Maybe she would even be marching. I know she would be vocal.
In our house we watched the local news with Peter Grant and then the national news. She wasn’t much on soap operas but never missed The Today Show. Local & Cincinnati newspapers were read every day.
I can remember her anger over IQ tests being given in the Deep South before a black person could cast a vote. I remember her saying, “If the Congressman’s son had to go to Vietnam, the war would end today.”
And when there was a gathering, on the Mason County Courthouse lawn on a fall Sunday after church to remember those 4 girls killed by racists, my mother gave me permission to walk those 2 blocks from home and stand with people I did not know, to show my respect.
Today, at age 68, my knees would not allow me to walk the walk, but I was on the street beside my car with my hands in the air to share my feeling with people I know and those I don’t.
I hope things change for the better before I see my mother again.
