A Letter To The Peacekeepers

There is a statue at the end of my street. Many people miss it as they hurry to the chic restaurants that dot the gentrified neighborhood I now live in. But there was a time, when I moved in that the neighborhood was much more diverse, and a group of activists worked to get the statue placed in the park to note that Harriet Tubman once lived in the South End. There she stands, her arms stretched across the chests of slaves pushing towards freedom. And there this morning on her outstretched arms was a bouquet of flowers, red, white and blue. I believe all across this country folks are having those moments and people, silently are leaving mementoes to let us know we remember a different time, with dogs, and fire hoses, and riots, and beatings, and we are glad to leave not flowers to mourn, but flowers to rejoice.

Dear Peacekeepers,

I suspect all of us are still glowing from the election. I don't always share my history with you, but I am compelled to by the events of the last year. As most of you know my father was in politics. In 1961 he left Chicago and went to work for the Kennedys (Bobby actually). it was an amazing time in my life as a kid in junior and then senior high. Jackie and John were a young couple just like the Obamas and their reign was called Camelot. Our spirits soared as young people because we believed in them and the hope of all that spread before them
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My daddy worked in Civil Rights and I went to many things with him. I lived with him off and on throughout his time in D.C.
We were there in August of 1963 on the lawn for Martin Luther King's speech. I saw a patched, sparkling tapestry of people wherever I looked. It was hot and yet no one was complaining, we were all just waiting to hear the words of a man who electrified out souls and gave us hope. I didn't know at the time I was part of history. But I remember looking over at my father and seeing tears streaming down his eyes. He turned to me and said "Lefty, remember this day, remember this time, you are part of history." When I asked him why he was crying he said "Because I know Martin Luther King is a dead man." and later indeed he was proved correct.

For those of us who lived through that time, who dreamed dreams with JFK and Bobby and Martin, we had our time both good and bad. Never, though, did I think I would have the opportunity to see a new Camelot come to pass. But Camelot is back again and you have a chance to be there to witness it. I urge you to come to Washington on inauguration day. Go in groups, go on the train, crash at a friend' s house but come. You cannot imagine what it is like to be part of hundreds of thousands of people there at the same time, knowing this time, that we will be witnessing history.Watching on t.v. just won't ever be the same.

I know many of us thought as we saw Obama stride across the stage in Grant Park, "oh please don't kill him". However for now it is real and we can only pray that the masters and God keep him safe. So join me for this incredible day. I will be there with my daughters, husbands and grandson. For me it is a passing of the torch, an honoring of my past and a firm belief in the future and in all of you. It is your time, it is you who will help him change the future. Why not start on Day 1?

All good things,
susan