Maggie’s birthday is on November 8th but there is something bigger than her day this year. She recalls, when she was a young girl, her father and grandfather sitting in their den after a rare Tuesday dinner since most family dinners were on Sunday. It was November 8, 1960 and both were glued to the TV. The commentator went on as the two of them sat almost speechless on the edge of their chairs waiting for something big.
See, Maggie grew up Catholic and the first Catholic Democrat was running for President. And, being a young narcissist, Maggie couldn’t believe that the outcome was to be determined on her birthday. At the time, Maggie could not imagine anything greater than the celebration of her own birthday. She awaited the cake and candles as her father and grandfather awaited the future of the country.
The outcome made the cake much sweeter that night for the entire family. John F. Kennedy was moving into the White House which was only 3.2 miles from her house. And, he would go to church next to where Maggie was to go to school. As you could back then, Maggie attended the Inauguration on a cold January day. The family stood on Pennsylvania Avenue and watched as this bright young man from Brookline, Massachusetts rode down the street smiling and waving. He had broken barriers and hope was in the air. The country was moving on.
Three years later, Maggie stood with her mother on the same street on a cool November day watching JFK’s flag-draped casket on a horse drawn caisson as it rolled down Pennsylvania Avenue. It was another cold day and a dream of peace and our young President had been lost to violence. The violence seemed to continue as JFK’s brother was lost and, years later, so was Martin Luther King Jr. and others. Riots in LA and in DC tore cities apart.
Maggie recalls the sights and smells of DC streets and buildings on an April day in 1968 as they were set on fire after MLK was killed. Some people fled while others looted and robbed businesses during this four-day period of violence. The country had hit a low, a violent one. Maggie and her high school friends had trouble getting home that day as most took public transportation. The city was a war zone. Being savvy high school kids, they rerouted their trips and arrived home safely. Maggie’s father who had been so hopeful about this young Catholic President watched out his office windows on 16th Street as the smoke rose over the city and looters carried TV’s and mink coats. If Maggie had been there, she knows she would have seen tears in her father’s blue eyes.
Today, in 2022, we are again at war. A war that is local and national has engulfed the entire country. It brings sadness to many but, unfortunately, invigorates those who advocate for confrontation. Again, we must make decisions and choices of how to move on from this battle. We ask, what if we lose this one? Where do we go? Who can we trust?
54 years after MLK was shot, we are still fighting the war on hope and equality. We ask ourselves where has kindness and human respect gone? In speaking with others, the first thing mentioned is the lack of kindness and the increase of greed of so many. Where will this greed take us other than to the hell of wars to come?
We do not have the answers but hope that peace will cycle back this way. We do hope that we, as a nation, have learned that these wars get us nowhere and that the fire of anger only leads to the burning of our streets, our country, and our souls.
The White House 1963
14th Street, Washington, DC 1968
Where You Sit Determines How You See Things
