At the Summer Olympics in Mexico City, three young men choose to use their few minutes of fame to make a stand for human rights.
It was October 16th of 1968.
It was more than a century after the US Civil War had ended.
It was twenty years after the United Nations' Universal Declaration of Human Rights had been adopted. In that document, the first Article stated:
All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.
Tommie Smith, Peter Norman, and John Carlos had taken the top honors in the Men's 200-meter race, winning gold, silver, and bronze medals, respectively.
The two Americans had already made plans to bring attention to the fight against discrimination in the United States.
The Australian decided that very day to join them, in his stand against discrimination in the world.
The two Americans were both members of the Olympic Project for Human Rights, a primarily black organization. They each brought a pair of black gloves with them to Mexico and wore OPHR badges for human rights. They had determined before leaving for the Olympics that if one of them won, that one would don a pair of black gloves and raise his hands in the air, as a salute of solidarity with those fighting for human rights in general and black rights in particular.
Amazingly, they both won, but John had forgotten to bring his pair of gloves.
The Australian suggested they each wear one of the gloves. Hence, in the photo, Tommie, aged 24, is raising a black-gloved right fist and John, aged 23, holds up a black-gloved left fist.
No glove was available for Peter, aged 26.
Then again, he had known nothing of their plans to stage a protest for human rights. They only told him after the race, when he had placed second and would be joining them on the medal podium for the Olympic medals ceremony.
However, when they did tell him, he made an instant choice to support their actions. He also chose to wear the OPHR badge on his jacket. When he saw it on one of the American rowers, Paul Hoffman, and asked for it, he had been given that man's badge to wear.
So, there's the scene.
Three young men with bright futures, in a time of change, advocating for a brighter future for all mankind.
Three young men who faced immediate, and lasting, repercussions for that moment of brave conviction.
That was almost sixty years ago.
My thanks to my Grandpa for making sure my mind was open to all possibilities.
His certainly was.
Pretty amazing for a white, middle-aged, Southern Baptist, former traveling minister, writing editorials and living in the small town of Waycross, GA, in the 1970's.
I wonder what he thought of that photo.
I truly wish he and I could have one of our debates about the topic.
He was a man decades ahead of his times, but well aware of how slowly change actually occurs.
Most folks think that just enacting a law signals the change has been finalized.
Not hardly.
Change occurs one person at a time. One
person
at a time.
Regardless of what the law may or may not say, regardless of a country's official stance, that fact holds true. Change occurs one person at a time.
That truth is the reason that it takes several generations - and sometimes longer - for a change to become accepted as "standard", as "the rule", by the majority of society. Change occurs one person at a time.
As I said earlier, it is our responsibility to continue the battle for human rights for all people.
One person at a time.
I have no control over my middle brother's choices or actions, but everyone he knows seems to think i do. They want me to allow him to live in my house. That's right, they think i should welcome his alcoholism, smoking, and lewdness. As long as the house is in disarray, it looks like there is no room for anyone else.
God knows i can't afford to have him here.
Again, i have no control over Ronnie's choices or actions. He has "lost" his phone for the fourth time this year. I am expected to buy a new one for him, again. I will, but i grow increasingly frustrated over this extra drag on my limited funds and time.
Again, I have no control over Ronnie's choices and actions. I have fielded text messages and phone calls and messages on facebook for the past week from friends who are concerned about him. They all want to accuse me of being uncaring about him. They do accuse my older brother of being uncaring.
We have been helping to take care of him for the past twenty years, especially since Mama died in 2001. We cannot sacrifice our lives to his choices and actions.
I have no control over my finances, as i am still only teaching part-time. I had thought i had a good part-time job set up to supplement that < $10k/year situation, but i was mistaken. I have applied elsewhere, but no word yet.
I have no control over cheating students. This semester, i have one particular student who constantly cheats. At least her partner is now trying to fly right. Still, it is a very frustrating situation.
I have no control over the choices and actions of other drivers. My poor car is now banged up on one side from a driver who ran a red light. My poor car has wreck wrap on its rear end to hold the trunk closed after a hit-and-run driver slammed into it. My poor car has only recently regained clutch action, again after damage from that hit-and-run driver.
My beautiful car once looked so good for her age.
It hurts my heart to see her this way, but i have no funds for cosmetic repairs. She moves when i need her to move and stops when i need her to stop, and those are blessings.
That was the message in the two movies I saw at the Royal Cinema today.
The work on my car took less time than I had expected - most likely because Tim the mechanic was looking out for me - so I took her for a spin out to Pooler.
You know, where it's cooler.
(Maybe you have to be from around these parts to get that joke.)
One of the movies was a limited-run foreign independent feature; the other was a newly-released science fiction blockbuster. Both were movies that very much appealed to me.
Each of them carried the same message to me.
"I am not alone."
"Meet The Patels" was the first film of my double-feature picture show. It followed Ravi, a 29-year-old single Indian man in the United States, still unwed and never with a girlfriend. At least that's what his parents thought! So, they convince him to allow them to help him find a wife. His sister, a couple of years older, also unwed, and his house-mate, is filming the whole process, probably to keep the focus Ravi and his troubles.
(Get it? That bit about "keep the focus"? Nice one, eh!)
(smile)
He was very uncomfortable about the dating process. The small talk, the whole business of trying to get to know someone and judging their compatibility over a lunch or dinner. His folks enlist the aid of all they know, as well as having him search Indian matrimonial sites and having him attend the Patel Matrimonial Convention, to enlarge the pool of possible wives for him.
Yikes. Meanwhile, his sister is realizing the things she may have been doing wrong on her dates as she watches her brother flounder around.
And I realized I was not alone in my dread of dating.
That's reassuring, in an odd way.
I've been married twice. The first time was with a guy I was going through school with in Great Lakes, Illinois. After just two years, we both realized we were not quite right for each other. Ten years later, I wed for the second time, this time with a man who worked with my friend Rhonda. I had thought that marriage would last forever.
Not quite, but it did last for fifteen years, and most of that time was happy.
I want that again.
I have no idea how to get it.
Like Ravi and his sister, I've tried two of the online dating sites, and had limited success with one of them. Like Ravi and his sister, I have found that manner of meeting people to be awkward and complicated.
Good to know that others have shared those experiences.
That's not to say that I don't know people who have successfully navigated those ether waters and emerged with a spouse in hand. In fact, those people started fishing at the same time I did in 2008. Those people are still married to the catches they found there, too.
So, it is possible, apparently.
The second movie today was "The Martian". Oddly, the message I heard from this one echoed that of the first. I am not alone.
Seeing the man on the red planet, stranded without company and without communication capabilities, turn to keeping a video journal for company resonated with me.
My journal isn't video format, although I do include photographs and pictures on occasion.
Many times, I am writing to clear my thoughts, to make sense of feelings, to record observations.
Mainly, I write to fill a void, to retain my sanity.
To not feel alone.
He was keeping his journal for the same reason, not knowing if anyone would ever see his messages, hoping someone would.
He truly was alone, 140 million miles away from the closest human, from another living creature, for almost four months before contact was finally made with NASA.
Watching him is when I realized: I am not alone.
I am on a planet with billions of other humans.
I have neighbors I can call upon for help.
I have family and friends, in town and scattered outward, that I can call or visit on facebook or in person. I am not alone.
My thanks to this website for helping me understand, in simple terms, how my clutch works. Howstuffinmycarworks not only provides an in-depth explanation of operational systems in mechanized vehicles, but also provides instructions and videos for you to do the work, should you decide to do so.
Best of all, the people explaining the operations are women.
That's right - women.
Hooray! The site has only been in operation since late 2006, but, now that I know it is there, I plan to share it with all the women I know. No longer should unscrupulous auto mechanics be able to prey upon those of the fairer sex!
I've been pretty savvy about basic car repairs since 1983. I had bought a POS Chevy Monza when a guy I worked with - big mistake - and it seemed to always need repairs. I did the oil changes, changed the spark plugs, set the timing, flushed the radiator, and even replaced the water pump. (That last one is how I injured my lower back...but that tale will keep for another day.) Of course, I was thirty-two years younger then, and could easily get under the car, if need be.
My next car was a 1983 Subaru. What a great car! Sadly, the spark plugs in the cramped little engine required a special tool to get to them, so I started leaving the grunt work for the professionals. One time, I had taken Surefoot to get an oil change and the guy behind the desk told me I needed a new timing chain. Oh, really? How could I need a new one when my car did not have a timing chain? What a scam artist, trying to steal money from fake repairs!
So...why am I revisiting the clutch in my car?
Well, on Tuesday, I had returned to Dixie Motors for the third replacement of the master cylinder. When I had taken it in last Thursday, again for clicking, they decided to try another source for the part. This master cylinder had been ordered from a different manufacturer than the first two.
Still, it came in a box, so we know what that means.
(smile)
I know you are wondering why I seem to be happy about all this. Honestly, it is because I know they have become a little embarrassed about my frequent trips back to them for the same repair. I have heard only good things about them from anyone I have told this tale to, so I trust them. If Tim and Mark say they are going to make it right, then I can take them at their word.
Plus, none of this has cost me another dime. They have absorbed the labor cost these two other times and are set to absorb yet more.
You see, this third master cylinder started losing its capability yesterday. No clicking sound this time, so that was good. But the problem was worse: my clutch was riding the floor and shifting, especially into first gear, had become an iffy proposition.
Yikes!
Tim, the mechanic who is now in charge of my car, had come to meet me when I drove up this morning. Frankly, he was amazed to see me! He had been sure the problem had been resolved. He verified that I had almost no clutch positioning and told me another master cylinder would have to be ordered. In the meanwhile, he would do what he could to adjust the clutch play so I could still drive.
And so he did.
I shall return on Tuesday for the fourth replacement.
I wonder what movies I'll see that day?
You see, that's another reason I haven't been too hard on them about all these extra trips to the shop. They are located near several restaurants, a Home Depot, a Target, and... a cinema! Frank Theatres offers "Tightwad Tuesdays", with all movies only $6 all day long!
Also, their medium popcorn is only $2.50 that day! So, I have deliberately been coming for the repairs on Tuesdays. I get to see two movies on the cheap and I even get a munchie treat!
So far, I have seen "Hitman: Agent 47" and "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." as a Tuesday doubleheader. (Excellent, but I think seeing the first one with "American Ultra" would have made for a better comparison and contrast discussion.) Good thing I saw that one about Ilya and Napoleon - I finally understand their relationship in the television series!
This week, I had another Tuesday doubleheader, featuring "Hotel Transylvania 2" and "The Perfect Guy". Totally different movies, but both new to me! This duo let me hear Mel Brooks again and gave me good dating tips, too. (Listen up: If your new catch doesn't introduce you to his chums, you should cut him loose and keep fishing.)
Plus, on my Thursday outings to Dixie, I have seen "Paper Towns" (actually seen with my first niece), "War Room", and "Maze Runner: The Scorch Trials". Quite a mixed bag, but good to have seen.
What will I see this next Tuesday? Most likely "The Martian" and "Everest", as they have just begun their run here in the cinemas and I have not yet seen them.
I'll have to let you know.
(smile)
