Meeting MLK on his birthday, in a dream cafe

It was a snowy, cold day in Denver yesterday, the day of what is usually the largest march/parade in honor of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I sat at my desk, listening to the megaphones in City Park, as a hardy band organized itself, and suddenly I found myself sitting in a cafe facing the Marade route, Colfax Avenue. An elderly gentleman sat next to me, and as he turned to acknowledge me taking the seat next to him, I gasped in surprise. Beneath the wrinkled forehead and thinning hairline, there was no mistaking those eyes and calm gaze.

"Dr. King," I stammered. "I can't believe what I'm seeing....."
"I can't either," he said smiling. I turned 88 yesterday. Hard to believe. Especially when you don't expect to live to old age, you can't quite imagine what it's like."
"But...how....how is this possible? You died in 1968....and now...."
"Yes, I passed when I was 39, but I took the return option--leave a little sooner and you can come back once a year to see how things turned out."
"You can do that?! I always wanted to.... Never mind, I have so many questions! First--why here?"
"Well, I always loved Soul Food, and....", he glanced back at the chef, lowering his voice, "and this isn't exactly the best place for that, but when the marchers come down Colfax in a bit, we'll have an excellent view. Every year I go to a different city, and usually I march too, but today...."
We smiled at each other. "Me too," I answered. "As my friend Linda puts it, 'you don't want to break an old lady bone' by going out in bad weather. But enough about that. I want to know what you think about today, about what's happening, about your birthday being a national holiday, about Obama, about who really carries your legacy, about...."

"Whoa," he stopped me. "Let's start with one of those". Then he continued, using the more sonorous language he's known for. First, about my birthday. I'm honored, not because I need ego satisfaction, not because Martin Luther King Jr. needs people to look at him, not because the past needs exalting, but because the nation needs a day to focus on its soul, on its ability to love and to seek justice above all." He stopped and looked at me.
"Sometimes," I said, it seems that gets lost amid all the press speculation about possible disruptions or loss of corporate sponsors or news about your oldest son meeting with Trump."
He winced. "I'd prefer to not talk about that... Let's just say our children are always going to chart their own paths." He paused. "I wonder sometimes if I wasn't home enough, that too much burden fell on Coretta. I still miss Yolanda. We used to play and swim together when I was home...."

Seeing his eyes mist, I changed the subject. "Please tell me, Dr. King, who carries your legacy today? I mean in the community."
"Why, everyone, of course. Everyone who carries the message of love and commitment to justice. There will always be a special place in my heart for my contemporaries, those who shared the struggle of the early days with me. John Lewis especially. He's been carrying on for a long time and is getting some pushback this year."
"Yeah," I mumbled. "War by Twitter...." Hoping to pin him down a little more, I asked, "Who were you marching with last year and where were you?"
He smiled, seeing where I was going. "I could say I was marching with everyone, but in fact...I was in Ferguson, walking with Black Lives Matter. Some people think my spirit wasn't there, but it was. And those young people knew it was. I'm still with them."
"As you probably know--your know everything now, right?--the Denver organizers said the BLM disruption last year cost them some corporate sponsors--the people whose money pays for scholarships and all the costs of marching these days."

"Corporate sponsors." He tilted his chin, staring into the distance. "Did you know when I went to college back in 1944, Morehouse College said it would accept any high school junior who could pass its admissions exam? They were trying to fill classrooms. So many young men and women had left to fight in World War II. I got in, got my degree and then went on to the seminary. Free of encumbrances."
"Very different situation today," I responded.
"Yes," he nodded slowly. "And I think we have to remember that corporate scholarships are not the answer. We need justice: an educational system dedicated to excellence, affordability and non-discrimination. That's really the root of everything," I've become convinced. Today's young people will inevitably create the future. Our life spans are limited, and we must always be aware of what we are passing on. I think Mr. Obama understands that."

"Do you ever wish human life spans were just longer?" I asked. I mean that a person could live to see more of the 'moral arc of the universe', as you used to call it--could live to see more of what happens with the struggles they were part of, could live, for example, to see the first African-American president take office."



"I think about that every year when I come back," he admitted. And I've concluded....well, the answer is no. The Creator knew what he was doing when he gave us 'fourscore and 10'. You see, I've realized that 'arc' was not the best metaphor for progressive change. Change doesn't move in a line, we see. It's more like a spiral, and with every return to an old issue, the issue becomes more complex. I don't know how I could lead if I were still on earth today. Perhaps I would have learned to cope the technology, continued to reframe my assumptions...lived through the death of a child...." His voice trailed off. Then he turned to me and said, "No, it's best that we have new leaders, new chances for youth to show us new directions to the promised land. I do wish I had had a chance to shake Mr. Obama's hand, though. I'm 88, two years shy of 'fourscore and 10'. Had things been different...."
"I remember that day," I said, turning to him. "I was a college senior, walking home from the library when I heard the news. I couldn't believe it. I remember feeling frightened about this world I would soon graduate into."
We both grew silent. Our food had arrived, and the first marchers were passing by, braving the cold and tapering snow. "Look at them," Dr. King said, sipping his coffee. "We have hope, yes, we have hope."