Chirps from the Sparrow
In the summer of 1970, I was at Northwestern University, enrolled in a summer program for high school students. The country was on the cusp of change; Richard Nixon was in office, my brother was in Viet Nam, and my father was dying from cancer.
The first day I arrived, I met a student named Sylvia, who was introduced to me as my roommate by the dorm director. I was told the following day by the same director; Sylvia and I were the only biracial roommates, paired in the history of the institute. So many feelings have lingered to this day; I offer a moment for the Sparrow.
A southern belle came to our room a week after we arrived. She was several doors down—everyone noticed Belle. She was a beautiful blonde; petite, impeccably dressed—certainly not a hippie like most of us. She flipped a dime on the floor at Sylvia’s feet and said, “Get a soda for me? It’s too far for me to walk at night.” My roommate picked up the dime from the dusty floor and left with Belle. Then, Belle did it again the next week.
"Sylvia, she can get her own pop," I said. "You're able bodied, Belle."
Sylvia bent over, picked up the dime, and left the room with Belle yammering, "Just bring it down to my room, Sylv."
Sylvia explained to me that evening, she did not want trouble and I had no idea what 'trouble' meant. She would get Belle's soda. Belle, however, never asked Sylvia to get a soda for her again in my presence and as I recall, Sylvia never mentioned soda runs to me again. What lingered most was this; Sylvia taught me forgiveness for those who were ignorant and so much more. At the end of the course, I gave Sylvia a poster of Martin Luther King. Sylvia said, “If that were a picture of a big mosquito I would have loved it because you gave it to me. The King, though, is a whole lot better than a big mosquito. I was asked on that survey what I learned here. I told 'em, I learned how to love someone I never met before.”
Grey Sparrow writers offer poetry and prose in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr.; one of our greatest leaders. January 15th, 1929 commemorates The King's birth, and April 4th, 1968 his tragic assassination.
—Lest we forget, for a brief time, he touched the Earth.
—Diane Smith