Mr. King, how I wish you were here

When President-elect Barack Obama is sworn in as our 44th president on Jan. 20, I can imagine you looking down from heaven — with eyes filled with tears.

Martin, could you have imagined that some skinny black kid with a funny name be elected president of the United States? Just 40 years ago, black people could still barely vote. Only in America could this triumph of the human spirit become real. I know on that day, many people, eyes glistened with tears, will gaze heavenward and silently say “Thank you.” However, Martin, if you would allow me, I would like to tell you a true story about a young African American girl I met at McDonald’s.

I write a weekly column for a local paper. Generally when I write, it is 5:30 in the morning, and it is generally at McDonald’s. One particular morning, I had a conversation with a young African American girl. She is a junior at Thomas Jefferson High School in Federal Way. Her name is not important, but what she symbolizes is. I asked if she lived in Federal Way. She said no. She lives in a different county, and she takes the bus to Federal Way because of the diversity in its academic programs. She is involved in after-school activities, has a 3.5 GPA, takes foreign language and is on the fast track to college. I also found out that she leaves for school at 4:30 a.m. — and takes two buses to come to Federal Way.

I was so amazed. I asked her why. She told me about her dreams, her school and her family.

Martin, the reason I brought this to her attention is because you will never read about her in the newspaper or see her on TV. This young lady truly represents your legacy as much as, if not more than, Barack Obama. Her pants don’t droop, she’s not in a gang, and she doesn’t even play basketball. What makes her special is that she is not unique.

Unfortunately, what you see on TV when it relates to black kids are that they are only killing one another about colors, smoking marijuana or using the N-word like it is the only word in the world.

She talked to me about her parents, and how strict they were. I smiled. You never hear about those kinds of black parents, but we are out there. You know, there are so many black parents who teach their children about character and doing the right thing. They teach that character comes across in the big moments of life, but is forged like steel in the small moments of life. They tell them that some people succeed because they are destined, but most people succeed because they are determined.

I do not know which one she is, but she is impressive nevertheless.

I know that on Jan. 20, you will look down with amazement, Martin. But what will you see on the day after? You will see that same girl toiling in relative obscurity. Then you will know it was all worth it.

Martin, how I wish that you were here.

No excuses.