For years I've made it my July 4th tradition to ride the Freedom Trail bike path from the birth neighborhood of Martin Luther King, Jr. to Stone Mountain, a lovely park with a giant Confederate monument, where the modern Ku Klux Klan was born. Five years ago, I was riding at the park when a caravan of trucks roared by full of white people toting guns and waving Confederate flags en route to a demonstration against a memorial to King planned for the mountain top.
So I smiled to see a mirror image today. Black men and women, in black militia garb milled about Stone Mountain village toting automatic rifles. My first thought was the irony that the supporters of Georgia's gun-carry law probably didn't foresee that gun rights would be exercised this particular way.
When I blithely rode through their perimeter to get back on the trail, the young man with the rifle who stopped me was very polite and waved me on. (The photo comes from someone's Twitter feed uploaded a few minutes after I passed by this spot. The police escorted the group on a march through the park.)
In Candler Park, I was again diverted, this time by a crowd gathered to hear a string quartet play "Amazing Grace."
On NPR during my drive home, I heard two wonderful programs on American themes. Sound Opinions covered Bill Withers's live album from 1972, making me realize the warmth and distinction of that voice, those songs, and that personality. Nine-year Navy veteran (engineering, non-combat), blue collar worker, great singer-songwriter, he quit show business in 1985 to raise children. He comes across as real smart, real fun, and just real. Very American story, too.
Then The Hidden Brain explored the topic of Thomas Jefferson's internal contradictions over slavery, exactly the subject for an essay that I've been drafting all week. They had as much trouble reaching a conclusion as I've had.
As the day winds down, I've just taken Brandy for a walk in the local cemetery. She had a rough night last night with pre-4th fireworks; tonight should be an ordeal.
Now it's about time to remember Aunt Harriet and one special July 4th. (See blogpost of 07/04/2018).
The brats, the sauerkraut, and the corn cobs are ready. Soon, it'll be time to mix the martinis.
Update: After my Aunt Harriet tribute dinner, I listened to Bill Withers's Live at Carnegie Hall album on the back porch while Brandy huddled under the roll-top desk to escape sounds of fireworks exploding for blocks around.
His voice and words have been a part of my life since sixth grade, but until now, I've never thought twice about the man behind the recordings. He seems at ease talking to a rain-soaked audience, singing and talking about his buddies in the band, and telling stories about his grandmother before singing his ode to her, "Grandma's Hands." He tells the story of a Vietnam vet who's lost his right arm as intro to a strong song, "I Can't Write Left Handed," lines all dictation - tell my lawyer... tell my mother... It's hard to take! The familiar songs are so acute. Then at the end he sings vignettes about Harlem, Monday night, too hot, Wednesday night, too cold, Saturday night staying up 'til church Sunday morning. For minutes at the end, he involves the audience in riffing on that song, giving these sophisticated New Yorkers some instruction in how to sing it right.
[Photo: Withers at Carnegie Hall, 1972, Village Voice, Bob Gruen]
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