Tonight after work my business partners and I started what we hope will be a long running tradition of Listening Tree parties on Martin Luther King's real birthday. This year wasn't much - thrown together at the last minute, but better than last year and the year before when we had the idea but did nothing. Next year, with a little history behind us, maybe we will manage to invite more people and have more of a do. But this year was good - just partners and office mates and one of their two year old daughters plus everybody's last client. We had fruit and barbecue and talked politics and family and and were black and white together and from different backgrounds and circumstances. It was a tiny island but one bright little maifestation of the "I Have A Dream" speech. One thing that gets to me is that, growing up as de facto segregated as I did, this simple integrated gathering still seems like a little miracle. Which my daughters think is very odd. It ought to be odd. Rather it strikes me tonight as truly sad. I think about all the blood that has been shed all over the world about differences in race and religion and I just want to cry.
So Happy Birthday Dr. King. And thnak you.