The Sixties- Counterculture Part II

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

There was so much going on in the '60s.  It was like a crazy quilt and trying to make sense of the decade can be mind boggling.  We witnessed a shared history that was filtered by our life's experiences.  To some the decade of the sixties was all about rock and roll, drugs, and free love (helped along with the pill) as a protest to conservatism and social repression of earlier years.

To others it was the rise of feminism: burning bras, ditching restrictive girdles, and trying find a ladder to climb up and break the glass ceiling. Others spent part of the '60s protesting and marching against the war in Vietnam, leading to the downfall of President Johnson. Still, others were immersed in the civil rights movement, marching, sitting in at lunch counters, and riding the bus to freedom.  It was an exciting and radical decade.  Somehow many of these causes, while separate, intersected and built to a huge crescendo by the end of the decade. Remember the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago?  That was wild.

My Aunt Osie in the 60s

What did we do during the 60s?  We missed the wild side of the sixties. I was never a flower child, we didn't do drugs, and didn't go to Woodstock.  Our chief focus was the civil rights movement, raising our young family, and working hard to achieve the so-called American Dream.  However, we were like Rosa Parks, tired of being at the back of the bus. The seminal event of the '60s to us was King's March on Washington where he delivered his prophetic I Have A Dream Speech.

Rosa Parks was one of the gentlest women I've ever met.  She was also composed and friendly.

We were old enough to understand the power and passion of his speech, and young enough to have hope and optimism for the future.  We were on the cusp of a new way of life for Black Americans. Our parents, who were born in the late 1800s, did not have the same confidence.  They had seen too much and been the recipients of many broken promises and prejudices.

The Sixties changed America and the world.  A blog is not the place to rewrite an entire decade, and much of what happened outside of my home is a blur because teaching school (sometimes two shifts), working on my master's degree, and being a mom/housewife took all of my energy.  Sometimes I was overwhelmed.  My husband was a school superintendent in the southern suburbs, worked on his Ph.D at Northwestern in the northern suburbs, and we lived in the city.  It was tough for both of us, but worth every minute.

Central State Alumni Club picnic in the 60s

Easter was a big Day.  You dressed in your best.  Sons Corey and Cam with me.

My mother with four of her 10 brothers and sisters.  The aunt on the far right is still alive and well at 102.

David and his daddy in the '60s

The Moody Clan in Louisiana, late '60s for my husband's mother funeral.  He had six brothers and two sisters.

The 60s impacted the entire world.

• Africa awoke and 32 nations received their independence from colonialism.
• The first African America mayor of a major American city was elected.
• James Meredith registered at Ole Miss.
• Martin Luther King, Jr. won a Nobel Peace Prize.  He was the second African American to win it, Ralph Bunche in 1950 was the first.
• A wave of assassinations threaten to disrupt the movement.
• Thurgood Marshall was appointed to the Supreme Court.
• Sidney Poitier won an Oscar for Lilies of the Field.
• Bill Cosby starred in a TV series, I Spy.

The times were a-changing.

The Sixties - Part I

You must be the change you wish to see in the world. 

 ~Mahatma Ghandi

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.

Bishop Desmond Tutu

The 60s were a whirlwind, a time of tumultuous social, cultural, and political change.  The decade opened with optimism and ended with radical changes in every aspect of American life.  It was a decade of freedom riders, sit-ins, voting rights drives, demonstrations, the rise of the Kennedys, the horrific bombing of the Church in Birmingham, the War on Poverty, boycotts, feminism, space exploration and the murders of John, Bobby, Martin, and Malcolm.

Our first new house - 9544 S. Union - Chicago

During the sixties we moved into our first new home, (mortgage payment, including taxes, $118.00) had two more children, worked every day, earned my master's degree from the University of Chicago and my husband began work on his Ph.D at Northwestern.  He started teaching and by 1968 was the first Black Superintendent of Schools in Harvey, Illinois.  I taught in the Chicago Public Schools and by the end of the 60s was a multicultural consultant in the Park Forest, Illinois School District. We thought we would spend the rest of our life in Chicago and didn't have a clue that our stay in the Second City was coming to an end.

Our life settled into a comfortable rhythm. We were active in our alumni club and spent a considerable amount of time raising money for the college and encouraging young people to stay in school. We also became politically active because Chicago was Mayor Daley's town and politics was the way to get things done. 

I loved teaching, much more than administration where I spent most of my working years.  I had 52 students one year in an eighth grade class.  Our school was so crowded that we had to go on double shift. (8:00 a.m. - Noon and Noon - 4:00 p.m.)  Many days I taught both shifts and made double salary.  The school was one of the poorest in the city but the children were hungry to learn.  There were many gang bangers in my class but I never had a problem.  When they were planning a gang fight they were polite enough to notify us so that the students who weren't in gangs could get home before the fight. 

We had school parties at my home and some of the students would come out on the weekends to help me work in my garden.  Once I asked a group why they used their weekend that way and they told me that they liked working in the yard because after working they could take a bath.  (They didn't have a tub at home.)  Each class was offered a reunion party at my home when they finished high school and at one party only one of my eighth grade students was not graduating.  She was so impressed that she vowed to go back and complete high school.

Reunion at my house of eighth graders that I taught when they finished high school

The girl on the right in the maroon sweater became an editor at Essence Magazine.

The girl on the far left is the one who went back to finish high school.

Another former student, who is now a judge.  

We ran into each other in the Bahamas at a conference. 

Our segregated neighbor was very friendly and safe. There were a few white neighbors who refused to move no matter what the "blockbusters" offered them. We knew each other's life stories including the warts and successes, socialized together, and looked out for each other's children. We walked to the neighborhood park to watch the boys' baseball games, shoveled snow together to keep our street clear, shared food when someone didn't have any, and spent evenings on our porches where we gossiped, discussed daily happenings in the world, and made plans for the future.

We supported King when he came to Chicago, and sat up the night he was killed watching parts of the city burn. Could not understand the burning of the businesses that supported our community.  It was a very terrifying, violent time. It was frightening because no one could predict what would happen next, like the time I was entangled in one of the marches with King and thought I would be killed by the angry protesters.

We were shot at twice during the 60s.  The scariest one was the time we were driving with the boys to see my husband's family in Louisiana.  There were no hotels we could stay at along the way. The interstate system wasn't completed so much of the trip was on two lane roads.  We would pull into the woods to eat the food we had packed, to take naps, or to relieve ourselves as it was a very long trip with few facilities available for Blacks.  A truck load of white guys saw us in Mississippi and they had a truck load of rifles which they started using on us.  Luckily I was napping under the steering wheel and took off immediately, driving over 100 mph.  We did manage to escape.  It happened again in Cairo, Illinois so it wasn't just the South.  We called the North, up South.

Sometimes, a neighbor would light up a grill and other neighbors would rush into their homes to gather meat for an impromptu, communal bar-b-que. On one of those occasions when we went to get our meat, I looked out our front window before we returned, and saw an army car parked in front of the neighbor's home and two soldiers walking up to their front door.


"No." I screamed.  I knew immediately what they would say.  Our neighbor's son, Richard, the favorite child of the neighborhood, was killed in Vietnam.  We had a funeral to plan. 


All of a sudden Richard's father ran wailing out of his house.  The men in the neighborhood chased and caught him. A loud shriek from the house sent the women rushing to comfort his mother.  Waiting with his parents for his body to be returned was difficult and agonizing. To honor Richard we put flags in our yards and became anti-war zealots.


One poignant memory of the 60s involved a visit  we made to see a neighbor who was confined at a mental institution.  While we were visiting, I was surprised to see a friend from my high school dance class pirouetting down the hallway.  We were startled and taken aback when we saw each other, asking each other why was she in this place. 


An older, wise woman, who was quietly rocking in a rocking chair and was also a patient, glanced at us and made a pronouncement I've never forgotten.


"Well," she declared.  "Like I've always said.  You never know who you'll meet in the crazy house."  


What is you most memorable moment of the '60s?

When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.  

~Mark Twain 


Madness need not be all breakdown.  It may also be break-through.  
~R.D. Laing, The Politics of Experience