On this day we remember the death 50 years ago of Martin Luther King Jr.,
a husband, a father, a pastor, a drum major for justice.
Our world is better because of him.
1 Comment
J.L. Poston
on May 2, 2018 at 11:22 pm
I am a native of Mississippi. From the first grade until I reached the fifth grade; I attended an all Black school. On April 4, 1968, I was in the front room watching television. I don’t remember if it was Walter Cronkite or another news anchorman who reported that Dr. King had been shot. I ran into the next room and announced to the adults “Dr. King just got killed.” I was 9 years old when Dr. King was murdered. The whole school sat around a small black and white television set and viewed the funeral services. I don’t even remember if my 3rd grade class could even see the television set but we all knew that Dr. King was dead. Our principal, Mr. Percy Hathorn, made sure that grades first through sixth were sitting in the chairs on the basketball court. The upper grades were assigned to the bleachers. They must have seen even less than I saw. But there we were. Sitting erect, not speaking, and though we could not see; we knew that the “Great Deliverer” was dead. As a full grown woman, I am completely aware of Dr. King’s many imperfections; yet, those imperfections did not prevent him from being a drummajor for justice. And, what a drummajor he was. April 4, 1968, is a date that I shall never forget.
I am a native of Mississippi. From the first grade until I reached the fifth grade; I attended an all Black school. On April 4, 1968, I was in the front room watching television. I don’t remember if it was Walter Cronkite or another news anchorman who reported that Dr. King had been shot. I ran into the next room and announced to the adults “Dr. King just got killed.” I was 9 years old when Dr. King was murdered. The whole school sat around a small black and white television set and viewed the funeral services. I don’t even remember if my 3rd grade class could even see the television set but we all knew that Dr. King was dead. Our principal, Mr. Percy Hathorn, made sure that grades first through sixth were sitting in the chairs on the basketball court. The upper grades were assigned to the bleachers. They must have seen even less than I saw. But there we were. Sitting erect, not speaking, and though we could not see; we knew that the “Great Deliverer” was dead. As a full grown woman, I am completely aware of Dr. King’s many imperfections; yet, those imperfections did not prevent him from being a drummajor for justice. And, what a drummajor he was. April 4, 1968, is a date that I shall never forget.