Six years: Kim's Nov. 23, 2015 death floods us with memories

Six years ago, I was driving up to Minneapolis with Kim in the passenger seat and talking about her upcoming hysterectomy surgery. She was anxious but looking forward to getting this one over with and moving on to remedy a growing hip problem.

It had been a tough few months for Kim. Yet, the Sept. 19 wedding of daughter Ambryn to Alexandria Kewitt at Flying Horseshoe Ranch near Cle Elum, Washington, might have been the highlight of Kim's days. After 36 years of marriage, Kim and I took a flight together for the first time, which finally hit us while on the plane to Seattle. Kim and I had both flown to conferences and visits, but never had we been together on a plane.

I think that was symbolic of our years together, often going different directions, trying to maintain our sanity while raising six kids in Winthrop. The kids were great; marriage, however, can be difficult.

Still, in the weeks leading up to her Nov. 23 surgery and that drive up to the hospital, we had settled into the reality of our years ahead, together. As I've written often over the past six years, we had once again become best of friends. Kim and I had gone through a lot together, good and bad. But we remained together, had done our best raising Ben, Ambryn, Billy, Matt, Andy and Mikell, and were amazed all had turned out so well despite the insanity.

And those four grandkids had helped keep us alive and well. Until that day.

Not truly knowing what happened to Kim that day still haunts one from time to time. Doesn't really matter, I guess. She's gone. One now simply wonders where; yet knowing she missed the birth of five more grandkids hurts, for Kim was meant to be a Grandma. She had moved on from Kimmer to Grandma Kim. And she loved it.

I've mentioned often about how Kim's hospice social worker days were her best, for she was amazing in that difficult field, "tough as a nail yet soft as a marshmellow at times," as one co-worker said. Ironically, her passion for hospice work helped guide us through her death, I believe. And now it's part of her legacy.

With grandchild number 10 on the way, I'm lucky to be there for them. And while I know I fall short too often, I don't take lightly that I must try to keep Kim's presence alive and well.

I owe that to her, to the kids, to the grandkids. Kim was a gift to all of us. Sometimes, the reality of those gifts is lost in the shuffle. And then it's gone. So each year, at the very least, I'll write about Kimberly Ann Melius, what she meant to us. 

Life moves on. Each sunrise remains beautiful. And each day, despite the craziness on too many levels, remains a gift. Peace to all who have helped guide us through this journey.

 

Four Hundred Souls: A Community History of African America, 1619-2019

In the fall of 1968, I entered the hospital for an appendectomy. It seemed like horrible timing for me, a couple months away from turning 12 years old, in 6th grade. I had just been asked to join the 7th-grade basketball team, which had never before happened. Old Winthrop High School had a K-6 elementary and a 7-12 high school. So it was to be quite the privilege. And I was so looking forward to it.

But under the radar for me at the time was my fellow 6th-graders' dive into the '68 presidential election, which would prove to be quite controversial. I was one of three students asked to lead a kind of debate to try and convince classmates to vote for either Richard Nixon, Minnesota's own Humbert Humphrey or a third-party candidate, Alabama Governor George Wallace.

Even at my young age, I had become quite interested in the election following a violent year, including the assasinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy. And I had already been intrigued about the thoughts and proposals of HHH.

But the appendix attack and hospital stay set me back, and two classmates chose Nixon and Humphrey. That left me "supporting" Wallace. I knew little about the man other than some black and white TV clips, and I was not happy with the assignment. Upon further research, I struggled to have to "defend" his candidacy during this "campaign."

I've often been asked over the years how I developed my liberal, progressive beliefs, having grown up in conservative, rural Minnesota. Was it this assignment? The turbulent days of '68? Was it my father's democratic leanings? Or my sibling's influences? I'm not certain any in particular could be pointed to as a leading influence. Maybe it was simply that I matured early, nearly six-foot by the time I hit the 7th grade.

But I was already challenging authority. A good thing, I have learned.

And part of that early, progressive thought process brought me to pressing social justice issues of the day. My older brother, Tom, was set to graduate in the spring of '69 and the Vietnam War was on our family's minds. My father, Louis, was a veteran but not one to blindly support military intervention, and I remember him and Tom talking about Vietnam; neither supported the war and Tom was not planning to accept any involvement in it. I remember talks of conscientious objections or Canada. Luckily, Tom's asthma kept him out of the service.

But it was the civil rights movement which most interested me, concerned me. I was years away from any draft number, but the horrors of the Wallace campaign and rhetoric loomed large for me. As did the spirted, and prophetic, words of MLK.

I didn't meet a Black American until college days, first at St. Cloud, then on to the University of Minnesota. But the messages were already clear to me -- the African-American journey was one of pain and suffering. And terrible injustices.

Yet, until now -- until the death of George Floyd -- I had not dived deep into that history, that horrible path through slavery, lynchings, police brutality, discriminatory public policy and more.

Why? Was it my failure to look deeper, do more? Was it a history written from a white, privileged hierarchy? Where was the real history of this country; where were these stories?

So, to kick off Black History Month, I first read The African American History: How Black Americans Have Shaped Our Country, by Henry Lewis Gates and Cornel West. Published in 2000, it had sat on my shelf for too long. To wrap up the month, I needed much more.

In Four Hundred Souls, the stories are told by 80 different Black writers, historians and activists. And they're powerful, often horrific. Each was assigned a five-year period from 1619-2019. Published just this year, it was spearheaded and edited by Ibram Kendi and Keisha Blain. It's a masterpiece and a must-read.

Trouble is, it won't be. These are troubled times in race relations.White supremacy resurfaced in ugly, very visible ways over the past several years, thanks in large part to a Trump administration which saw a path to the White House and exploited it.

Where do we go from here? We listen. We read. We tell stories. 

The stories in this book should have been told over and over and over again in our homes and schools. So, today, we have 400-plus years of stories to re-read and absorb, no matter how painful it might be for those of us who have benefitted from a misguided, predominately white male leadership model which remains too prevalent in today's political and evangelical halls.

It must change. We must do better. It won't be easy.

Black History Month 2021: Digging deep

Months come and go but as the years pile up, we need to dig deeper into Black history so the stories grow and the understanding widens.

February 1 kicks off Black History Month. And there is so much yet to discover. For me, that glaring lack of knowledge hit hard after the May 25 death of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Race. Police brutality. Criminal justice reform. Big issues which have been bubbling for decades all came together in a disturbing scene.

What can a person do to be a constructive voice in all of this? What can any of us do?

For me, it was simply time to start reading more, learning more. Time to listen more. And I also turned to a book that had been on my shelf for years, “The African American Century: How Black Americans Have Shaped Our Century,” by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and Cornel West.

It didn’t take long for me to realize how little I knew about the Black pioneers in U.S. history. Nor did it take long to have a greater understanding of the common, agonizing, life-threatening struggles so many Blacks battled through the 20th Century and beyond. 

Gates and West gathered researchers to help pick ten key Black Americans from each decade. Both admit there are omissions: “Needless to say, there are towering figures who belong in this book yet do not appear as individual essays…”, they wrote in 2000. But those selected, along with those left out, “...are part of the great story of the African-American Century…”

They stressed, “We begin our chronicle with African Americans born into slavery and end it with those born after the assassination of Dr. (Martin Luther) King…” For them, and me, there is a startling and deeply disturbing consistency in which nearly all faced -- angry white supremacy and stereotypes. And often, aspiring Black artists, activists and thinkers found Europe a much more accepting place.

Gates and West, like any authors and educators, might now considering going back and rethinking a few selections and omissions -- entertainer and comedian Bill Cosby made the 1980s list; little-known Black American World War I pilot Eugene Bullard didn’t. Still, the 400-page history of 100 essays so greatly enriched my growing sense of individual duty to learn.

Here’s a sampling:

1900-1909 -- W.E.B. Du Bois (1868-1963), Black Public Intellectual: The authors claim “...he was the father of the civil rights era, the theorist of the movement that Dr. King led so brilliantly…” Du Bois loved work and people, "...but always I have been uplifted by the thought that what I have done well will live long and justify my life, that what I have done ill or never finished can now be handed on to others for endless days to be finished, perhaps better than I could have done."

Ida B. Wells Barnett (1862-1931), The Reformer: Her essay states, “A fearless and outspoken activist, she remains one of our most shamefully neglected crusaders...She was a cofounder of the NAACP, and still found time to work with newly migrated jobless and homeless men and women in her adopted home of Chicago…”

1910-1919 -- Mary McLeod Bethune (1875-1955), The Black Rose: Gates and West wrote she “...was as much of an institution in African-American life as Eleanor Roosevelt...was in mainstream America...If one person could embody a journey up from slavery, it was Bethune…”

George Washington Carver (1864-1943), The Peanut Man: “Young people,” Carver said, “I want to beg you always to keep your eyes open to what Mother Nature has to teach you…”

1920-29 -- Junius Austin 1887-1968), The Dancing Political Preacher: He stated, “Hold on together, for the day is coming; hold together if we are to be successful as we have been in the past. We need each other, Negroes of America.”

Bessie Coleman (1892-1926), Aviator: Gates and West wrote that “...until the Tuskegee Airmen demonstrated the Negro’s capacity to fly in combat during World War II…”, it was early pilots like Coleman who paved the way. Of her, fellow African-American aviator Lt. William J. Powell said: “ Because of Bessie Coleman, we have overcome that which was worse than racial barriers. We have overcome  within ourselves and dared to dream.”

1930-39 -- Charles Hamilton Houston (1895-1950), The Lawyer: The authors wrote, “He is one of the giants of the legal fight for racial equality.” And Houston said, “The most important thing is that no Negro tolerate any ceiling on his ambition or imagination.”

Paul Robeson (1898-1976), Citizen of the World: He was considered by the researchers as, “One of the most gifted men to rise to prominence in the twentieth century…” and, “...stands as one of the first black artists to use his eminence in the worldwide struggle against bigotry and injustice.”

1940-49 -- Charles R. Drew (1904-1950), The Blood Man: Gates and West wrote, “As a surgeon, teacher and researcher, Charles Richard Drew saved lives. In 1942, he became the director of the Red Cross’s effort to collect and store blood on a large scale.”

Lena Horne (1917-2010), Simply Lena: Horne “was the first black female star", the authors wrote. Horne despised being “as an oddity of color...How I hated those awful phrases they used to describe me! Who the hell wants to be a chocolate chanteuse?”

1950-59 -- Rosa Parks (1913-2005), Mother of Civil Rights: Parks should be known for more than just “for simply refusing to move to the back of the Montgomery public bus,” the authors noted. And Parks, who was just 42 years old when arrested, said this in her autobiography: “People always say that I didn’t give up my seat because I was tired, but that isn’t true...No, the only tired I was, was tired of giving in.”

Sara Vaughn (1924-1990), The Divine One: Gates and West wrote of Vaughn, “She was jazz’s only diva...probably the greatest voice in jazz history.” For Vaughn, her effort was simply this: “It’s singing with soul that counts.”

1960-69: Muhammed Ali (1942-2016), The Butterfly: It was Ali who might have best “captured the 1960s’ spirit of a defiant black America caught in the turmoil of its own quickened politics…”, said the authors. And he grew to be “the greatest boxer and one of the most beloved athletes of the twentieth century.”

Fannie Lou Hamer (1917-1977), Grassroots Activist: Like Angela Davis, considered a Crusader for Social Justice by Gates and West, Hamer stood out as a powerful and effective activist. While Davis’s ways were often considered radical, Hamer “became such a powerful political force in her decade that her name became known internationally,” according to the authors. Hamer wrote: “When I liberate myself, I liberate others. If you don’t speak out ain’t nobody going to speak out for you.”

Martin Luther King, Jr (1929-1968), Soul Force: “He is the prophet of the century, and the spoken voice of the civil rights movement,” Gates and West wrote. King’s struggles were America’s struggles, which continue today. “We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force,” King said.

 

Malcolm X (1925-1965), Black Nationalist Figure: “Like Martin Luther King, Jr., he foresaw his own untimely demise at the hands of an assassin’s bullet, but this did not keep him from telling the truth about the black condition in America and the corrosive influence of white supremacy on the American democratic ideal,” the authors wrote. Said Malcom X: “Anything I do today, I regard as urgent. No man is given but so much time to accomplish whatever is his life’s work…”

1970-79: Maya Angelou (1928-2014), The Voice: “Maya Angelou found a voice for all of us. As a poet, playwright, civil rights activist, producer, and director, she has been a pioneer in fields that were choked by oppression,” the authors wrote, adding that it was quite a life: “Angelou has worked as a dancer, a cook, a waitress, and a madam for two prostitutes, all the while raising her son and cultivating her craft.” And in her words: “Humility says there were people before me who found the path. I’m a road builder. For those who have yet to come, I seem to be finding the path and they will be the road builders. That keeps one humble. Love keeps one humble.”

Barbara Jordan (1936-1996), The Nation’s Conscience: “A lawyer, scholar, author, and presidential advisor, Jordan followed in the tradition of Justice Thurgood Marshall...as she attempted to wrest integrity from politics, and she was not deterred or diminished by the inevitable disappointments,” wrote Gates and West. Among Jordan’s words: “I am not going to sit here and be an idle spectator to the diminution, the subversion, the destruction of the Constitution.”

 

1980-89: Alvin Ailey (1931-1989), The Dancer: Ailey’s words and thoughts are haunting, yet largely typical of the African-American experience of the twentieth century: “I am a person who has never completely escaped from the scars to my childhood. Racism, which leaves a shadow of one’s sense of accomplishment, can make one feel like a perpetual outsider.” 

Alice Walker (1944-     ), Womanist Embracing the Color Purple: Gates and West wrote, “Alice Walker has dedicated her life to writing and to social change. Her sustained exploration of these sometimes disparate worlds has created an intersecting space for her literature, scholarship, and activism…” In Walker’s words: “I am preoccupied with the spiritual survival, the survival whole of my people. But beyond that, I am committed to exploring the oppressions, the loyalties, and the triumph of black women...For me, black women are the most fascinating creations in the world.”

1990-99: Louis Farrakhan (1933-     ), The Charmer: The authors wrote, “He inspires, he enrages, he preaches, he inflames. He is the most recent -- and most powerful -- advocate for black self-reliance in a long tradition of black nationalists.” And they added: “We admire his radical spirit, while we still look to the next generation of black leaders who will offer transformative radical solutions.”

 

Toni Morrison (1931-2019), Laureate: As the authors noted, she is “the first African American to receive the Nobel Prize, in 1993, for literature...She is an epic storyteller who compels us to remember those ‘unspeakable’ terrors that have shaped American and African-American culture, and she is a deeply spiritual writer...the will to be free and the forces -- both internal and external -- that circumscribe that freedom.” 

Among Morrison’s words, when accepting the Nobel Prize for literature: “We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do have language. That may be the measure of our lives.”

(Editori's note: As a white male and amateur historian growing up in rural Minnesota, I'm not the one to look into the years 2000-2019. My only focus was to highlight the work of Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and Cornel West, and their team of researchers who looked at "The African American Century: How Black Americans Have Shaped Our Country." -- Dana Melius)