Happy Birthday to ya

I was a college dropout in 1963, at home from my failed effort to become a bum when I watched the “I have a dream” speech. I cried my eyes out. There was something so righteous about this movement, so emphatically clear in its justice. You were for black people, you supported the movement, or you were a racist dog. I broke with King like other (ultra) leftists did when he failed to embrace Black Power and cringed as people increasingly moved toward Malcolm’s “any means necessary.” Most black people simply supported both approaches, understanding that the disagreement was largely […]