On Friday, some of us took note of the fact that it was the 70th anniversary of the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision. One of those someones was President Biden who is enough older than I am to remember the actual decision, which was litigated by Thurgood Marshall.
I was busy sorting bookshelves and catching scraps of MSNBC when he began to speak to an NAACP gathering and the way-back machine inside me kicked in.
What I remember is being a 6th grader in 1970, when Florida began to enforce mandatory school busing. Private and parochial schools sprouted from nowhere. My parents argued… Dad yelling and Mom crying. Dad won.
On the first day of the enforced desegregation, I boarded a school bus and headed across the bridge to Palmetto, while protesting parents literally threw rocks at the buses. I was terrified… of the parents with rocks!
I liked my new school. I especially liked my science teacher. (Lunch… well, not so much, but that was nothing new!)
And, yes… I cried as I listened to Biden remind us that “we learn better when we learn together!”
And, I cried again, this morning, as I listened to Joe Biden address the peaceful graduates of Morehouse College, just down the road, and was reminded of many things, including one of my favorite Dave-isms. (If you’re new around here, Dave-isms are cool things my kid said when he was still sorting the whole language thing!)
First, though – CONTEXT – it was a Sunday morning, back in the early ’80’s. Dave (who was about four years old at the time) and I had been to church. Afterwards we headed to my folks’ house for lunch.
My dad asked Dave how church was, and got an answer that’s followed me through all my seminary and church adventures:
Mr. Wolf looked sad and spoke down the Word.
And, yes… that’s pretty much what I heard Joe Biden do this morning, in a very different context.
The world doesn’t work for everybody, yet. We’ve got a long way to go. Sparkly sneakers and mugging for cameras, while whining about being picked on, just isn’t going to get it!
All this on the day many of us remember as Pentecost Sunday. Which, as the story goes, was the day the work began anew.
All this just three days after the Legendary Husband and I got decorated with some stickers! Cool additions to the Good Trouble button I wear everywhere!
We must persist! Equal access. Equal resources. Fair pay for the professionals we call teachers.
And, while I’m meddlin’, NO GUNS IN SCHOOLS!
And no book bans. No shaming kids for the constellation of people they call family. No monitoring the moon cycles of athletes. No limiting the human rights of… well, anyone!
If you’ve been reading along for a bit, you may have guessed what comes next… the words of one of my greatest teachers, Dr. H. Stephen Glenn, PhD.
If a teenaged child has 5 adults who will listen to them, take them seriously, and not shame them or blame them for their questions, that child is practically immune from ever attempting suicide.
Let’s do that! Me. You. Everybody we can get on board. One of those five people for as many kids as we can be!
The rest – as the old saying goes – is details!
ps… now, I’m going to go deal with some of my own junk, and ask the Guardian Angel, who is appearing bit by bit on my canvas, to hold some prayer dots. Dots for Hope. And, Sanity!
pps… just in case you have big work that’s calling to you, let’s talk! I’ve got a power-full path from here to there and a map that makes the journey a whole lot clearer! The calendar elves will be glad to hook you up with 30 min. My gift. We do have a long way to go! (Red Thread helps!)
Wow! I grew up in Boston during this time. My mother was secretary at South Boston High. Strange times indeed. Your message rings deep for me this week for something that happened with a young niece. Thank you. Timing and Godwinks!!
Thank you, Stacey, for reading and hearing! Lots of prayer dots to make tomorrow… will include your niece and all our Littles! Godwinks to you, too!