This turns out to be a Friday afternoon for. . . reflections. And reflect we shall -- on the eve of my long-gone father's own birthday. For today is the day that Dr. King spoke -- at the March on Washington. Today he set his version of the dream. . . on wing. So do take a moment and express gratitude, for all this moment did to advance our nation -- to this very day.
Below is -- of course -- from his letter inside the Birmingham Jail. . . and the YouTube below that, is "the dream" proper.
. . . .My friends, I must say to you. . . . it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture. . . .
Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was "well timed" in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."
We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children. . . .
[W]hen you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored". . . .
[It is also the 60th passing of the murder of young Emmett Till.] Travel light, but travel well, Dad (and Ter -- 30 years on) -- you both had to leave our party far too soon.
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