Showing posts with label Martin Luther King. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martin Luther King. Show all posts

Monday, January 18, 2016

Images of the day, January 18: Happy Birthday to You.






You know it doesn't make much sense
There ought to be a law against
Anyone who takes offense
At a day in your celebration

Cause we all know in our minds
That there ought to be a time
That we can set aside
To show just how much we love you

And I'm sure you would agree
It couldn't fit more perfectly
Than to have a world party on the day you came to be

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday

I just never understood
How a man who died for good
Could not have a day that would
Be set aside for his recognition

Because it should never be
Just because some cannot see
The dream as clear as he
that they should make it become an illusion

And we all know everything
That he stood for time will bring
For in peace our hearts will sing
Thanks to Martin Luther King

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday

Why has there never been a holiday?
Where peace is celebrated
all throughout the world?

The time is overdue
For people like me and you
Who know the way to truth
Is love and unity to all God's children

It should be a great event
And the whole day should be spent
In full remembrance
Of those who lived and died for the oneness of all people
So let us all begin
We know that love can win
Let it out don't hold it in
Sing it loud as you can

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
Ooh yeah
Happy birthday...

We know the key to unify all people
Is in the dream that you had so long ago
That lives in all of the hearts of people
That believe in unity
We'll make the dream become a reality
I know we will
Because our hearts tell us so

~ Stevie Wonder

_____________________________________

Such profound words sung to my generation. The photo above is of the boys watching a YouTube video of Dr. King's famous speech at the march on Washington. I snapped it from my kitchen a couple of years ago.  Last year, I had them watch "The Drum Major Instinct"--my favorite MLK sermon of all time, thanks to my dad forcing me to listen to it for punishment back in 1986.

Ha.



This year? We will listen to excerpts of the above, probably. Especially The Drum Major Instinct, since it underscores King's bravery and eloquence simultaneously. But this year, my main plan is to really, truly introduce them to this beautiful, enlightening and courageous song. We will talk about it and break it down. Together we'll go over the lyrics and I'll answer their questions. Then, we'll just shake our bum-bums to it and even get the puppy into the groove. Besides--those kids need to recognize that this was a bold and politically charged song and not just the universal song that black folks sing together on birthdays.

Mmmm hmmm.

Plus, no good parent of African-American (or any) descent neglects to properly introduce her children to the genius of Mr. Steveland Morris a.k.a. Stevie Wonder. That's just wrong, man.

And so. Today we'll celebrate with music and realize another dream of sorts. The one Mr. Wonder penned back when this national holiday was still just a heavily controversial idea.

Yeah.







****
Happy MLK Day. And Happy Birthday to Ya, Dr. King.

Now playing on my mental iPod . . . . and my real one. We are about to turn up in here!



And, of course, "The Drum Major Instinct."

Monday, January 20, 2014

Where was the BHE during our King-a-palooza?



Brother Manning has dedicated much of his post-military career to revitalizing the historic MLK corridor of Atlanta. Yep. So where was he during our King-a-palooza? Simple. The B.H.E. was working today -- on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive--where he owns most of his businesses. So pretty much? Every day is a King-a-palooza for him--like, literally.

And you know what? I have proof--check out this video clip from today's evening news. So proud. Sigh.

Damn, I love that man. Lawd knows I do!

*pounds fist on the kitchen table for emphasis and nearly wakes up the kids.*

***
Happy MLK Day. Again.

King-a-palooza.



Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty


Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

http://centennial.journalism.columbia.edu/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/16.-1957-The-Civil-Rights-Movement-3.jpg

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us

http://www.crmvet.org/crmpics/massmtg2.jpg
image credit

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us

 
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on till victory is won.

Today at the parade

 
~ James Weldon Johnson 

________________________________________________________


Every year I promise to have my act together enough to do something meaningful with my children on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. And I suppose I haven't been too horrible over the years. I mean, we do sit down and watch "I Have a Dream" on YouTube and one year we even watched "The Drum Major Instinct"--although I'm sure that 99.9% flew over their heads. I always see the signs encouraging folks to make it a "day on" instead of a "day off." And that notion I can get with. Even if, on most years, I don't get with it personally.

Mmm hmmm.



So this year? Man, hush yo' mouth. I had my act together. Not only did we watch "I Have a Dream" AND "The Drum Major Instinct" -- we sat and talked about them, too. AND. (Mmm hmmm, there is an AND.) AND we actually made it a "day on."

Yep.




We started the morning out early with an awesome service project at a nearby school. The kids cleaned up and packed bags of toiletries for those in need. And they had fun with other kids while doing it, too. Fortunately, we could rely on Dr. King to break up any brawls or rough-housing between this energetic bunch just by saying:

"HEY! Wasn't Dr. King all about PEACE? Take it down a notch!"

Which may or may not be exactly verbatim what I said when I peeled one child out of the headlock of another.



Ah hem.

So yeah. That was awesome. And after sharing pizza with all of the volunteers, we walked out side into a day that could not have been more spectacular. "We can't just go home," I said. And of course my boys groaned when I said that but I didn't care. I was determined to spend the majority of the day doing something other than watching the boys playing video games and watching Netflix.



And so. We headed downtown to join the Martin Luther King Day Parade. We surely did. Parked our car and strolled right down Peachtree Road with the masses. Yes, we were technically with a group from school but still. We went. I was so proud that I didn't talk myself out of it.



Admittedly, the kids were kind of grumpy about the whole thing at first. But by the time we finished and ended up at Ebenezer Baptist Church where both Martin Jr. and Martin Sr. once preached? The boys were in higher spirits. I know for sure that there are things my parents did with us when I was a kid that I didn't fully appreciate until I was older. I hope our "day on" tradition ends up counting as one of those things.


I'm in love with this picture of my boys from today.


Once we got home, I popped open my laptop and we watched the King speeches on YouTube. Now this part? They were riveted. No one was horsing around or any such thing. I think his voice just sort of grabs old and young alike. As tired as they were, too, they didn't even flinch when I asked them if they wanted to watch another video. So that's when I sprung "The Drum Major Instinct" on them. (That was the one that my dad made me listen to for a punishment as a 14 year old and subsequently write a 750 word essay about.) Poopdeck was a BEAST, I tell you.



Uhhh, yeah.

So that part was cool. It really was. I asked if they wanted to hear a cool song before we closed the computer and they obliged. And I guess I should first offer the disclaimer that I don't allow my kids any reckless YouTube-watching so the idea of ANY YouTube probably feels like the equivalent of drinking soda pop to them.

Yeah.

So the song I played for them was "Lift Every Voice and Sing" which most African Americans know as the "Negro National Anthem." I'm not even sure how old I was when I first heard it or learned it, but it seems like one of those things like The Lords Prayer or the Pledge of Allegiance that you just kind of know and can say without thinking about. So I played the traditional version of it followed by the Ray Charles version and the Roland Carter arrangement of it.

Oh! Wait. . . You mean you've never heard of the Roland Carter arrangement of "Lift Every Voice and Sing?" Well. CLEARLY this means that you:

a) Did not attend a historically black college or university,
b) You did but you never, ever went to chapel
c) You totally have heard this version but just didn't realize it until you heard it again.
d) You went to an HBCU but you thought that the Roland Carter arrangement was the only arrangement of the song.

Ha.

Yeah. So this musician named Roland Carter remixed rearranged the song for a choir performance somewhere at some point. And I swear that it seems like every single concert choir at every single historically black college adopted his version. But rightfully so, man. Listening to it to the end gives you chills. Especially that mighty, mighty AAAAA-AAAAA-AAAA-AMEN that he decided to tack onto the end of it. (I think that was designed to wake us all up in chapel.)

Juuuust kidding.

So what else? Yeah. That's about it. After my King-a-palooza, I told them that they could do whatever they wanted to do. Which in my house means one thing and one thing only--video games. But that was cool.



The evening was punctuated with me going to a dinner at the home of Gunan G. from my Small Group Gamma. The group--our small group pictured above-- that all gathered to eat Gunan's mom's delicious homecooked Indian food could not have been more diverse. I looked around the room and smiled. I know that Dr. King would have been proud to see a room filled with future physicians (plus some grown up full-on professionals) of every hue laughing and talking together on the day his birthday is observed.

Yep. So our "day on" was awesome. It totally was. And you know what? I felt proud at the end of it.



And can I just say this? Today when I listened to Dr. King's booming voice speaking that famous speech over that crowd in Washington, I heard it differently. I interpreted it as really a longing for his children to have a better world. A lot of it wasn't even about him or something he'd get to enjoy in his lifetime.

And--if you ever listen to the sermon "I've Been to The Mountaintop" -- you'll know that he somehow seemed to know that his life would be abbreviated during this struggle. Yeah, he knew his days were numbered--which is really deep considering he kept on fighting even though he knew he was risking his own life. Oh? I didn't tell you? I was made to that one circa 1986 after smart-talking my mother one morning before school. Followed by 500 words on the meaning of that sermon, too. Regardless of how much homework from AP classes that I had. That's 500 words NOT including the words "the, and, or, or very." Which was very, very, very, very, very, very, very uncool of my very, very, very, very, very uncool father.

Mmm hmmmm.



Sure--like my boys, I groaned a lot about having to do all of that King-related stuff back then. But now? I appreciate those punishments more than words can say. I really, really, really, really, really, really, do. (He never said anything about "really.")

***
Happy Martin Luther King Day. Thank you--I really, really, really, really, really 'preciate y'all for reading. (How many words am I at?)




Just in case you had to work or you were like I have been in prior years, here's your dose of goodness for this day. I hope you take a moment to enjoy some it -- especially the parts you've never heard before.

First, the full lyrics to "Lift Every Voice and Sing." Deep is an understatement when it comes to this song. I think it's actually a song for everyone if you read the words. I like to think of it as a song for anyone who was once held down but is now on the edge of a breakthrough to something better.


Lift Every Voice and Sing
 
By James Weldon Johnson


Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us,
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

        God of our weary years,
        God of our silent tears,
        Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
        Thou who has by Thy might Led us into the light,
        Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
        Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
        Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
        Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
        May we forever stand.
        True to our God,
        True to our native land.

______________________________

And now to bring you in on our YouTube-a-palooza. . . . .

"I Have a Dream" 

The first thing Zachary said after watching this video and seeing the crowd: 

"Wow, Mom. I didn't know it was so many white people on our side back then!" 

Isaiah said, "Yeah, he even gave them a shout out in the speech, too."

Me: 0_0




"The Drum Major Instinct" -- Best. Sermon. Ever. Still makes the hair stand on my neck.



Lift Every Voice and Sing, regular version



Lift Every Voice and Sing, Roland Carter version -- sung by the HBCU 105 voice choir at the Kennedy Center. This takes me back to college--our Tuskegee Golden Voices Choir used to ANNIHILATE this song. (Annihilate it in a GOOD way.) We'd all be in tears at the end every single time. I'm sure it was the same at your school if you attended an HBCU.



Lift Every Voice and Sing, Ray Charles version. I love his preamble with the shout out to Jeremiah and something being "shut up in his bones." Makes me think of the Grady elders--having joy "shut up in your bones" is one of those things you hear the "old saints" say. Ha ha ha.



Monday, January 21, 2013

You've come a long way, baby.


Happy M.L.K. Day, y'all!

And just to get you in the right state of mind, this:



That photo above was taken in the Grady elevator yesterday. Can you believe it? I've got an all girl team this month on the Grady wards! I keep hearing that Beyonce song in my head when we're together. Ha ha ha. Maybe we should bust out in a flash mob version of it on the last day? What do y'all think?

Ha.

It is cool, though. We walk into the rooms on rounds six women strong and, I tell you, it's a sight for sore eyes. (At least, according to one of the very uninhibited male Grady elders it is.)

Yeah, man. I'm thinking Dr. King would be proud of this team. Or at least hot for it. Gasp! Did I actually say that out loud? Okay. Then act like I didn't.

Hee hee.

Anyways. I don't have a lot to say at this moment. Instead, I just woke up and went back to my archives to reflect on the things I'd written on prior MLK days. I do have some deep thoughts but it seems like my head isn't organized enough to write them right now. Those posts seemed to say what I am feeling, so there. I thought I'd take you back to them--for those who are new here or simply for a reread if you're one who's been here for a while. Either way, I appreciate you all.

But, real talk. . .  especially today I'm appreciating the opportunity to be a Grady doctor. Something I couldn't have been had I just been born at the same time that Dr. King was.

No black doctors allowed at The Gradys back then, remember? Not even on the "Black Grady" side.


Yeah. But I wasn't born when Dr. King was. So I get the opportunity to lead a multicultural team of women through the halls of a place that, thanks to the fight of Dr. King and countless others, welcomes us as healthcare providers. I don't take that lightly.

No, I do not.

Okay. So here's a few things to get you reflecting on MLK Day. I hope it helps to get you in a Martin-state-of-mind today.

First, The Tale of Two Gradys. This is arguably one of my favorite posts because it makes me think about what it means to be right here, right now doing what I do.  Makes me realize that it's kind of a big deal.

Next, I'm OK. You're OK. and The Green Lantern. These two posts capture some of my exchanges with Isaiah about race. It makes me realize that Dr. King's dream is still one that should be alive and in our minds. And, of course, I revisited when me and a bunch of my girlfriends had an EPIC FAIL attempt at getting all of the kids to nestle down in front of a big screen television to watch "Eyes on the Prize." Those kids were all like:

What. Ev.

Ha ha ha! But at least we tried, man. You can read about that here.

And lastly, The Drum Major Instinct. This takes me back to when Poopdeck used to make us listen to Martin Luther King sermons and then write reports on them as punishment once we got older. Now I'm glad that he was crazy enough to make us do that.

That's all I've got for now.  I hope your day is wonderful and full of grace.

***
Happy Martin-Lutha-da-Kang Day to you all!


Oh, and here's what's been playing on my mental iPod whenever I'm walking around with my all girl team this month:




Sunday, January 15, 2012

A Tale of Two Gradys.

Segregated Grady Hospital during the Civil Rights era (aka "The Gradys")

Today is January 15, 2012. My name is Kimberly D. Manning and I am a medical doctor. I received my medical degree from Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Tennessee. For the past ten years, I have had the honor of teaching Emory University medical students and training Internal Medicine resident physicians at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia.

And I am a black female.

Fifty years ago today the date was January 15, 1962. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was somewhere blowing out thirty three candles on his birthday cake. During that time, the vast majority of black physicians in the United States were educated at either Meharry Medical College or Howard University School of Medicine--both historically black institutions. In January of 1962 more than a quarter of the population in Atlanta, Georgia was black.

And Grady Hospital was segregated.

"White" Grady and "Colored" Grady. Known by most during those times as "The Gradys"; this plurality serving as the perfect descriptor for these separate but not-so-equal hospitals within one hospital. Yes, in 1962, Grady hospital was segregated.

Fifty years ago today.

Not only segregated. On January 15, 1962, there were no black physicians with staff privileges there. None. As a matter of fact, during that time there were approximately 4,000 hospital beds at hospitals in the Atlanta area. But physicians who looked like me could only practice in less than 500 of them.  438 to be exact.

Fifty years ago today.

If an African-American patient that I cared for as a primary care provider was hospitalized fifty years ago today, yes, they could be admitted at Grady. However, I would have to give up all patient care privileges at the moment they hit the door. Because, you see, while black people could receive care on the segregated C and D wings of the hospital, they could not receive that care from physicians of their same race.

No, they could not.

In January of 1962 there were groups picketing in front of Grady Hospital. Groups like COAHR and others in the community inspired by a thirty-three year old preacher who had become the face of the Civil Rights Movement. The same preacher who preached around the corner from Grady Hospital at Ebenezer Baptist Church. So there they stood. The Committee for the Appeal for Human Rights withstanding hateful stares and venomous words. Young people bravely holding up signs criticizing the inequity of the care offered to "negro" patients at Grady Hospital -- and also the fact that black physicians weren't allowed there. 

Fifty years ago today.

Other than it being just wrong, there were other problems with that whole no-black-doctors thing. See, just like it is now, Grady was the hospital that served the indigent patient population in Atlanta. And just like now, many of those patients were black. With segregation like it was, many of those folks were cared for by black physicians in the community. And back then, your primary doctor was usually who cared for you in the hospital, too.

Unless, of course, you needed to be admitted at Grady. Regardless of your wishes, that nice black doctor of yours would likely have been called a "boy" and sent on his way.

Or "gal" or "nigra" had it been me.

Fifty years ago today.

I guess it was good that there was at least the "colored" Grady. I mean, it could have been worse. In addition to Grady, at least there was Hughes Spalding Hospital (the colored hospital) across the street. Across the street. Yeah. So fifty years ago today, your negro doctor caring for you across the street from Grady couldn't come to care for you there. No, he or she could not. Oh, and if you weren't poor enough to be considered "indigent"? That made it even more complicated.

All that was going on on this day in 1962.

In January of 1962, my father was a freshman in college at Tuskegee Institute. He had graduated from high school in Birmingham, Alabama that previous year and, like many black folks back then, was the first person in his family to go to college. But also like many black folks back then, he wasn't the first smart person in his family.

No, he was not.

My paternal grandmother valued education. She celebrated my father for his academic achievements and applauded his decision to get higher education. Like me, my father excelled at science and things involving interpersonal skills. He enthusiastically told his counselor in 1961 that he wanted to major in Biology and go to medical school. Unfortunately, that counselor discouraged him. Shot down that dream quick, fast and in a hurry telling him that it was too much of a gamble. If a black man is going to go to college and he wants a job, he needs to go get an engineering degree.  And let go of this pipe dream of being a doctor.

"What if you don't get into medical school? Then what?"

Going to college was already a big deal. And it wasn't like there was a doctor in the family for him to call for advice or to counter with, "But what if you do get in, son? What if you do?"

Yep.

So fifty years ago today, on January 15, 1962, my gifted-in-science father was struggling in math and engineering classes at Tuskegee Institute where it would take him more than six years to graduate. Because that's where the world was back then. Race and gender clearly dictated decisions and created ceilings made of a hell of a lot more than glass.

Me? I chose to go to Meharry Medical College because it was a good fit for me. Not because there was no other option or other place willing to let me fit. But had I thought of medical school on January 15, 1962, my medical education story would be different. It would have been Meharry or Howard or bust.

Or perhaps, for a woman, nothing at all.

Fifty years ago today.

Today I'm reflecting on how far things have come on what would have been Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s eighty-third birthday. I am imaging a life for me in his world, a life at Grady Hospital some fifty years ago. And what I am realizing is that I wouldn't have had any kind of life there. At least, not as a doctor. And damn sure not as a teaching physician at Emory.

Oh, did I forget to mention? 1962 was also the first year Emory University integrated its student body. 1963 marked the admission of the first black student in Emory's School of Medicine-- a young man named Hamilton E. Holmes. As for the faculty part, I'm not sure when that part fully changed. I do know that Dr. Asa Yancy Sr. was the first brother-faculty member appointed at Emory which technically took place in the late 1950's (even though he still couldn't get privileges at Grady.) Something tells me that it probably took a little more time to get some sister-doctors on the roster.

But that's just my guess.

So yeah. A lot has gone down in fifty years. So instead of posting the "I Have a Dream" speech or even discussing some of the annoying criticisms that have come up about Dr. King after his death or talking about President Obama or even ranting about how black history should be discussed in more than just the winter months . . . .I am simply sitting here quietly feeling thankful. Thankful that I am right here right now and not fifty years ago today.

And even more thankful that people like Dr. King and my daddy were there.

Sometimes I feel angry that the doors open to me were shut in my father's face. But when I see how proud he and my mother are of their children and what we have become, I feel a little better. And when I listen to his stories of growing up poor, black, and one of eleven children in the epicenter of the Jim Crow era--and I see what he has become--I feel proud, too.

Proud. Proud of where I can go and what I can do. Thanks to all of them taking a whole lot for the team some fifty years ago today.



Kind of makes me wonder what I'm doing for the team.

Hmmm.

See? This Civil Rights thing was more than just a notion. A whole lot more. Me? I get to be a Grady doctor. And no, not in the figurative sense--in the literal sense. I literally get to be a Grady doctor because somebody wasn't afraid to be spit at and hosed down and hit across the head with a brick. I get to be a Grady doctor because some surely terrified individuals put themselves in harm's way on Freedom riders' buses and some peaceful young person in my own father's neighborhood got attacked by German shepherds just for standing up. Because of them I get to be where I am right now. A doctor. At Grady.

Man.

So to all who lived through it, I say thank you. For every time you had to stand there and hear someone call your grown-ass father a boy or a nigger or your beloved matriarch a gal or a nigra, thank you. To those who bravely went against the grain when it would have been much easier to hunker down in some false sense of pink superiority, thank you, too. Because I know that there was a lot more moving in that movement than just black folks.

Yes, there were.



Today is January 15, 2012. My name is Kimberly D. Manning and I am a medical doctor. I received my medical degree from Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Tennessee. For the past ten years, I have had the honor of teaching Emory University medical students and training Internal Medicine resident physicians at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia.


And I am a black female.

***

Happy Birthday, Dr. King.

My son, Isaiah. . living the dream.
***
Now playing on my mental iPod. . .with gratitude.

Monday, January 17, 2011

The Drum Major Instinct.


 When I was fifteen years old, I got in trouble for doing something that I had no business doing. While I do not remember exactly what it is that I did wrong (I did a lot of stuff back then), I do vividly recall the "punishment" issued in its response.

"I want you to sit in your room and listen to this speech. Then I want you to write me an essay about what you learned."

Wait, huh?

That's what my dad said to me that day. Not "you're grounded." Not "you can't watch television or you can't go to your friend's house." We were getting older and dad was looking for a remix on the discipline. Spanking a tenth grade girl was probably just a little weird, and because his nerdy kids liked reading so much, being grounded did nothing but give us an excuse to finish the next book in the V.C. Andrews saga.  So the folks had to get creative. His latest resort during this time?  Playing Martin Luther King sermons for his teenage kids. Uggghhh.

Oh yeah--and making them write essays afterward.

So. . .on the day to which I am referring, Daddy had me listen to one called "The Drum Major Instinct." I think I rolled my eyes so hard that day that they nearly permanently lodged in the back of my eye sockets. But. . . I finally sat down, opened up the case with the cassette covered with Dad's all caps handwriting, and sulked my chin into my palm.

::Sigh::

Then he started speaking. . . .and wow.  The day I heard that wobbly tape playing from the boombox in our bedroom remains one I will never forget.  The words. . .those words. . . they shook me to my core.

By this time, I'd heard "I Have a Dream" several times.  In fact, I even knew several parts of it by heart. But this one. . . it never came on during television broadcasts or was included in our school productions. Yeah.  "The Drum Major" -- who?

The Drum Major Instinct essentially says that within everyone lies a desire to, at some point and in some way, march out in front. To be first. To lead the parade.  He explains that  whether we admit it to ourselves or not, praise feels good.  Yet this instinct has much to do with all that is awry with the world.  He also rounds up the message by charging the listener and also himself to never let go of your "Drum Major Instinct" -- but to instead push to be a "drum major" in the ways that matter most:

Love.
Giving.
Selflessness.
Excellence.

I was deeply convicted by those words that day. They made me want to be better. To try harder. To love with zeal. And to strive to achieve my own kind of distinction.

I never forgot those words. Twenty five years later, they still resonate with me and move me in the deepest parts of my soul.

Every year on the MLK holiday, I listen to "The Drum Major Instinct." Today, I hope you will, too.



Thanks, Dad.


***

Happy Birthday, Martin Luther King, Jr.  You were a drum major, indeed.