Thoughts on flying the flag today

When I was a youngster, growing up in a prosperous white suburb during the mid-60's, the civil rights movement seemed like something from a different planet. Protests and civil strife were reported on the Chicago media, but did not translate into the day-to-day homogeneous world of Glen Ellyn, Illinois.

However, I recall when Dr. King announced that he and his family would come north. They moved into an apartment on the Chicago West Side. Of course, everyone knew of his work in the South, and his Nobel Peace Prize. And everyone had an opinion of him. There were some in my extended family who expressed less-than-charitable ideas about him. Comments like "Why does he have to move here?" and "He's just trying to stir up trouble with The Coloreds." were overheard by us at the Kids' Table during Holiday Gatherings (far worse expressions were also heard).

And trouble is what he got. King was seeking to use Chicago as a Northern City template for social change across the country. He organized manifold fair and open housing actions that would strengthen black renters and embarrass white landlords and politicians. After months of increasing tension, his Chicago alliance marched through the all-White Southwest Side neighborhood of Marquette Park. It did not go well:

Dr. King and his allies had sought to confront the entrenched White neighborhoods of Chicago, and the political machine that represented them. But he was shocked by the level of hate and resistance he encountered. After arriving at a verbal agreement for justice and social progress with Mayor Daley, Dr. King declared victory and left Chicago. He did get the Chicago Real Estate Board to end its opposition to Open Housing ordinances. However, his template for sweeping change in northern cities never really materialized.

When I think of that time, this is what I remember:

Rev. King after being hit in the head with a thrown brick

The flower of American youth in Cicero, 1966

It was all a dreadful time of social tumult. The Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1965 had opened the lid for all sorts of repressed energies to emerge into public view. Inhibited racial change and justice that had been restricted for a century sprang forward while established white privilege pushed back hard.

And as I wade further into memories, I can't help but reflect on the life my family led in the Jim Crow town of Williston, Florida from 1959 to 1962. For me, it was a kid's paradise. A white kid's paradise. Everything was good, and separate, for Whites. In fact, I rarely remember even seeing "colored people" in town, except maybe on a weekend.

Even as a little kid, it seemed like blacks were invisible people. They had their own section of town, never seen by us. They had to use their own stores, never visited (though owned) by whites. They had to sit in the balcony at the movie theatre. My grandfather owned a bar/liquor store that had a special back door he used for selling booze to "coloreds". Out of sight.

One day my mom was driving a black worker from our family's motel over to his home outside of town. We happened to drive past my school. I was shocked! It was after school hours, but there were lots of kids playing outside, like in recess. I peered closer as we drove past and shouted to my mom: "Look! There's a bunch of n****** at the school!!" My mom was horrified by my surprised outburst. I can only imagine how our motel worker must have felt.

It was such a thoughtless statement to make, even for a first-grader. I said a term that most white everybody used. I had no idea of its terrible connotations and the hurt it wielded. My mom quickly explained that the kids I saw were using the school, too. White kids got the facility in the morning and early afternoon, black kids got it later.

I don't remember being reprimanded for my blurt, but I suppose I must have - the word never became a part of my working vocabulary. And I don't remember asking my mom why it was that the black kids had to use the school at a later time. It was just accepted by "everyone".

The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. devoted his life towards changing the established mindset of people like me. When the awful news of his death swept across the TV, and Robert Kennedy's wrenching speech was televised, I was devastated and lay sleepless in my room. Two months later, the national trauma happened again.

Race relations in our country today are not so good; but they are not nearly as bad as they once were.  I believe that, like the Civil Rights Acts, the promise of a Black President created an overly high ceiling of expected social progress. Much needed change took place, but not nearly enough. And white privilege pushed back again, hard.

I feel that Dr. King would understand what has been happening. He would be saddened, but he would not slacken his commitment to a better, more just world. The best things need to be fought for, relentlessly. I think this is what he would say, from his last recorded words: