by irene bean

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A Solid Foundation



Not Trying to be Corny

This Little Light of Mine

We Were Once Young

Veni, Vedi, Vinca

U Tube Has a New Star

Packing a 3-Iron

Getting Personal

Welcome Again

Well... Come on in

Christmas Shopping

There's no Substitute

Dressed for Success

Cancun Can-Can

Holy Guacamole

Life can be Crazy

The New Dog

Hurricane Reenie

He Delivers

No Spilt Milk

Naked Fingers


Have Ya Heard the One About?

The Great Caper


Barney's P***S

My New Security System

This Little Light of Mine

This evening was a treat. I attended the 22nd anniversary observance of Martin Luther King Day at the University of the South. That sentence sounds like an oxymoron, but tonight, as well as the past 22 years, was a testimony to Dr. King's dream.

I'm not good at numbers, but there were probably about 200 people in attendance. I'd guess the crowd was 50-50, black and white. It was an uber liberal love fest. In addition to the love for all humankind, protests to war were beseeched with nary a hint of politics. Dr. King would have been pleased.

In addition to lengthy and glorious excerpts read from Dr. King's speeches, there were original poems, interpretive dances, and a rendition of "I Still Rise," which caused goosebumps to rise on my heart.

Tonight, This Little Light of Mine shined for all the glory of humankind. We broke bread together with potluck dishes and gave praise for the continuing fruition of Dr. King's dream.

A disclaimer must be inserted here. I have lived in a mostly white world. This should not be confused with a bigoted world. I've simply lived white all my life, yet with enormous compassion for all people. It's just how I'm made.

So, tonight was quite an experience. Jesus, Joseph and Mary - I discovered I don't even know how to clap right. I also don’t have the proper timing of when to jut a hip. Sadly, I don't own the lovely freedom to know when to holler to the heavens "Amen." I was a misfit, albeit, with a good and welcoming heart. I wasn't the only one out of sync - all the whites were. And I confess, I coveted the unbridled joy the blacks expressed. We whites are so constipated. :)

We sang gospel songs I'd never heard before - I swear to you, they were rapturous. I confess I became a bit distracted while singing, as I observed the crisp, loud claps the blacks made with their hands - purely punctuating their words with praise. We white folk tend to be toe-tappers - expressing our joy and pleasure where no one can see it. Amazing, huh? Netta is an exception. That girl must have some black in her - I've seen it, firsthand!

The crescendo of our evening occurred during the solemn singing of "We Shall Overcome." It was a 3-hanky ordeal.

Willy was my primary dinnermate. He's a young black man, perhaps in his 30s. He's recovering from brain tumor surgery and has lost most his sight. Tonight, I gave him my eyes, he gave me more heart than I thought I had.

This little light of mine shined bright tonight.

Amen, brothers and sister. Hallelujah!

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