As I write these words, it is Monday, August 28, 2023: the 60th anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1963 March on Washington. And I was there.

I was not able to join the crowd of 200,000 people peacefully gathered on the Mall that bright summer day, because I had my six-week-old son with me. Completely oblivious to the events taking place around him, he slept through the afternoon; but I wanted him to be able to say, much later in life, that he had lived through those epic times, even if he would have no actual memory of it. And I wanted to be able to say the same for myself. So I had brought him with me to join a few friends in the downtown area of D.C., where — even several city blocks from the Mall — the excitement of the day was palpable.

And what a time it was! A time when America was looking forward to an endlessly bright future; when the people were united in a fight for civil rights; when the youth of the country weren’t afraid to speak out — and to demonstrate — in favor of noble causes . . . and not in anger, but peaceably. And it was a time when our young President, John F. Kennedy, spoke of a strong economy, an ambitious space program, and the promise of Camelot. We had weathered the Cuban Missile Crisis, and emerged victorious when Nikita Khrushchev famously backed down. Life was good . . . we were strong and prosperous . . . and it was a time to party.

Even the popular music of the day spoke to us of peace, love, and brotherhood, through the words and voices of the likes of Joni Mitchell, Arlo Guthrie, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Peter, Paul and Mary trio, and numerous others. We listened to, and deeply felt, songs like “Blowin’ In the Wind” and “The Times They Are A-Changin’.” And we believed in those lyrics.

And it was in that atmosphere of peace, love, and brotherhood, on that August 28th of 1963, that Dr. King stood before that audience of 200,000 forward-looking people and spoke the magic words: “I have a dream.” And the world, as it so often has done throughout history, once more began to change . . . but not the way we had hoped.

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Because then, barely three months later, all the peace and harmony and dreaming came crashing down. On November 22, 1963, the bright light that had been President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was extinguished by an assassin’s bullet in Dallas, Texas; and Camelot disappeared in a puff of smoke and a river of blood. He was just 46 years old.

And less than five years after that horrific event, on April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., aged 39, was himself brought down in the same manner, in Memphis, Tennessee. And barely two months later, on June 6, 1968, President Kennedy’s younger brother, then presidential candidate Robert F. Kennedy, succumbed to yet another assassin’s bullet in Los Angeles, California, at the age of 43. He had been warned not to run for office; he hadn’t listened.

Within half a decade, three brilliant young men, willing to bear the weight of an imperfect world on their shoulders in order to serve a higher cause, were each gone in the flash of an instant. And the world flipped again . . . and has never been the same.

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But what about Dr. King’s dream? It was a dream of a world — or at least a country — in which “equal rights” applied to everyone, regardless of race, religion, ethnicity, or gender. That was 60 long years ago; and I ask myself today: If Dr. King could come back to his country for just a little while, what would he think? Would he be happy with the progress we’ve made toward his goal? Or would he be saddened to see that, in spite of all the laws guaranteeing fair and equal treatment to everyone, and all of the progress we have made, we are in many ways still fighting the same fight . . . and with a great deal less dignity than we did in the ‘60s. And I ask myself: Was it worth it?

And my answer is a resounding YES. Because every step forward is one less step we have to take in the future. And for every person of every race, religion, ethnicity or gender who now holds a job, attends a school, or lives in a neighborhood that would have been closed to them 60 years ago, those baby steps are cumulative, and they definitely have meant something. What we need now is to find a way to keep moving forward without all of the 21st-Century anger and hate that sadly have pushed aside that hopeful spirit of the 1960s.

Maybe what we need now is a few more good songs.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/29/23