Why Did It Happen To Me

Night fall was rapidly approaching as I began my ascent to the mountain peak of Diamond Hill. I was extremely careful, making sure not to twist an ankle or knee while navigating the uneven mountainous terrain. I found the beautiful colors of autumn unparallel to anything I had ever seen. The voices of nature suspended me momentarily in time along the virgin hillsides. Powerful northern winds blew angrily as leaves and twigs rained down from heaven. Slowly, I made my way up the mountain’s summit. That’s when I finally realized just how far in life I had climbed. I reminisced about the days of old that took me back to those special events and loved ones that made life truly worth living.

            It was a unique time in history when revolutionary ideas changed the complexion of America. Blacks became an integral part of the social fabric; especially in the South where images of shame and ridicule were slowly being replaced by self-respect and love. The black church and the soulful sounds of old negro spirituals strengthened our faith through the hardest of times. The voices of Malcolm and Martin championed our cause for freedom, justice, and equality. We were black and proud! Blacks were owning homes and businesses, and a piece of the American dream was becoming as common as fried chicken and collard greens. It was the fabulous sixties. Afros, bell bottoms, and drive-in movies were the talk of the town, and teenagers twisted to the sounds of Chubby Checker. The engagement of war in Vietnam divided our nation. Nevertheless, John F. Kennedy charismatically won the hearts of the American people. He earned the respect and love of poor people just like us. Heck, we even sent a man to the moon for the very first time.

            Those were some of the memories that made the sixties so special. But the greatest thing about the sixties occurred October 23, 1965; because that’s the day I was born. And from that moment on, the world has never been the same...and this is my story!