Day 24 - Marching

Alabama:

Driving over 60 miles along a narrow stretch of highway hadn't bothered me before - except for the trees, of course, but I'm over that now. I drove down US-80 from Montgomery to Selma - the same route the peace marchers and Martin Luther King walked in protest. At first I didn't notice anything but green. Then I was struck by the darn long distance for a walk, and I imagined blistered and bloody feet from uncomfortable '60s dress shoes. And when they reached Selma, they were beaten senseless.

Non-violence, MLK exhorted, borrowing from his (and my) hero, Ghandi. The event reminded me of the time Gandhi marched to the sea to make salt and show the British that the ocean is free, cannot be taxed, and that India was their country. I almost wished the time would go by faster so I wouldn't have to imagine the folks walking so far.

When I first envisioned my cross-country journey, my mind was ablaze with places I wanted to visit. I overloaded my itinerary, of course. I chose historical, political, kitsch, architectural, natural, etc. This was the first time I actually saw, in my mind's eye, the hardship and sacrifice of the Civil Rights activists to make everyone's future a better one. Shortly after the Selma to Montgomery marches in 1965, Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Voting Rights Bill ensuring voting rights for blacks. What MLK and scores of other supporters pushed for worked and I thank them for their good work. When I see the many museums dedicated to Civil Rights, I don't say, "Again?" I now say, "There should be more."

The beautiful historical markers greeting drivers and passengers on the highways and the Selma gateway sign are impressive. But once you hit the town, you'll get a shock. The town is literally falling apart. Buildings sit half-finished or abandoned. Houses are in a dilapidated condition. Frankly it was like a ghost town. There was even a museum about slavery, and the posted sign was a worn banner. Depressing. You'd think something of such historic value would be preserved for posterity...for our children.

This visit confirms the importance of travel and getting to know places like these. Without the history spilled on those streets, our lives wouldn't be the same. I for one surely wouldn't be driving alone through the American South if it hadn't been for the courage of many before me.

Meandering Nothings of People I Admire

Jesus was a socialist...at least I've always thought so. He didn't discriminate and he hung out with the dregs of society; prostitutes, tax collectors and so forth and put stuck up Pharisees in their places. He influenced Ghandi who influenced Martin Luther King, who influenced Cesar Chavez and countless other people.

What's my point, you say? I have none. This is a tribute to one of my favorite actors and humanitarians, Paul Newman. When I was a kid, I used to watch whatever old Newman movies shown on TV. (Thank you, KDOC, KTLA, and KCOP!) I saw the stinker, Silver Chalice, where Newman in toga talked like a thug the entire film, and I saw gems like Hud, Cool Hand Luke, and the Hustler. It wasn't until I saw Newman in Somebody Up There Likes Me about the life of Rocky Graziano that really made a fan out of me. And of course, there was Slap Shot which made me laugh my guts off.

Then I saw a documentary about Martin Luther King's famous speech about racial equality in Washington in 1963 that sealed my worship of PN. He was there, marching with MLK at a time where the klan and tons of other kooks bludgeoned those who dared participate in demonstrations for equal rights.

On a stupid note, our birthdays were only two days apart, and I'd always thought we were sorta kinspirits. We were both liberals and aquarians to boot.

Anyway, I admire Jesus' grit and Ghandi's quiet persistence. MLK's staunch belief in human dignity bowled me over as did Cesar Chavez' persistence (though he was one of the first Minutemen). Newman doesn't quite make the list of the above heroes, but he is up there with Muhammad Ali and Aung San Suu Kyi, Clarence Darrow, and the Doctors Without Borders volunteers.

BaddicusFinch gave me the book, In Pursuit of the Common Good: Twenty-Five Years of Improving the World, One Salad Dressing At A Time by Newman and A.E. Hotchner years ago, and it cemented the importance to the world of this one particular hero of mine. What a humanitarian. What a stalwart citizen. I love you man!