A Thank You to Dr. King

Me - 1969 graduation

Recently I was talking to my granddaughter about how school was going.  She told me she was working on an essay about Dr. Martin Luther King.  I told her maybe I could add something to her essay because when I was in school in the 60s it was the height of the civil rights movement. 

She perked up and became real interested. I guess she didn’t realize that grandma was that old.  She asked me if I marched with Dr. King. I chuckled and told her that where I grew up in Fresno we didn’t really have any marches.  Nor did we have the kind of problems they had in the south, such as forcing black people to sit in the back of the bus or drink at separate water fountains, yet we still had issues.

In Fresno at that time, I explained, the people of color lived on the other side of the tracks, literally.  They had their own part of town where the railroad marked their territory.  You would otherwise never see a black person living or participating in life anywhere else.  My father’s business, a box manufacturing plant, bordered that area and several of his employees were people of color.  In fact his foreman was black and his yard boss was Latino and was affectionately called poncho.  Everyone loved him and he loved everyone.  I never learned bigotry or racism in any form from my parents.

I still have the picture of my very white father attending the wedding of the foreman’s daughter.  My father seemed so happy and was smiling so big; the only white guy there.

My father - at the wedding of his foreman's daughter - 1950s

My granddaughter’s essay brought me back in memory to that time and place.  I told her that I may not have been involved in any marches, unless you count Berkeley – marching against the war - but I remember that time in America so vividly. It was exciting in many ways, there were the controversies and there were the victories.  Many things were changing.  We all followed Dr. King’s speeches and listened to every word. 

For me as a high school student, these changes affected my life.  I explained to my granddaughter how in high school where I lived in the north part of town, way far away from those railroad tracks, they bused in young people of color to attend classes with us at my school.

My memories are that all of us students welcomed our new fellow students with open arms. It was a happy time.  We were thrilled to be a part of these new changes. I don’t remember anyone being upset or critical in any way, shape or form.  We all wanted these changes to take place and for a people oppressed to feel welcome. I became good friends with one of the students in particular. I still remember her name, Johnnie James.

My granddaughter’s eyes were wide and she was so surprised that I experienced these things in my lifetime.  I found my old yearbook and showed her a picture of Johnnie and her sweet message to me which she read with enthusiasm.  We talked about other things in the yearbook, the times, the feelings, the experiences. 

As we parted and she clutched my yearbook, she said, “Grandma, may I borrow your yearbook for awhile?”  How could I say “no”?  I watched as she took my piece of history and carried it away next to her heart.

So today I want to thank Dr. King and his memory and the memories he made for me and that I was able to meet Johnnie and move forward in my generation and for future generations.  Let’s not forget his speeches that motivated us against hatred.

Update:  I am including a picture of Johnnie and her sweet comment to me in my yearbook.