“A TRIBUTE TO DR. KING”

by Jessica Kuzmier

     It was on the day that is celebrated as Martin Luther King's birthday, much the way that both Honest George and Abe are celebrated in one fell swoop with appliance sales at the mall. Given the national controversy over celebrating the birthday of the civil rights leader, with many in the South wanting to call it Robert E. Lee Day, the sales on washing machines weren't terribly prolific this day just yet. But slowly it was becoming a day to make an excuse for a three day weekend. A lot of workplaces were closed, including the office of the church that houses the food bank where I volunteer on Mondays. Even religion wants a day off now and then.

     Recently, though, I had procured a key to the building where the food bank was, a separate structure from the church. Which means I had a choice, as I watched the TV with its sleepy streets, everyone treating the day like an extra Sunday. Hey, I could stay home too, I thought; the roads weren't that great, and there probably wouldn't be anyone coming looking for food, knowing the office was closed. Maybe I could stay home and do some work on the computer, or take an extra nap. Call it a health day.

     But there was the other choice that came with it. What would the best way to commemorate the civil rights leader, honor his memory? Watch CNN all day hearing what a great guy he was? How would he want his spirit to be remembered on this day?

     Posing the question this way, I pondered staying home for less than a few seconds. Dr. King, known mostly for his work trying to heal the rift between the races, spent much of his time lobbying for the poor, and became involved in the antiwar movement as well. When he was assassinated in Memphis, he was advocating for the rights of garbage workers, white and black. His concern was to heal the inequities for all people. It seemed logical to celebrate his spirit by manning my post, regardless if anyone showed up.

     So my spouse, our pooch Kirk, and I got ourselves out of our warm house, into the cold, driving our vehicle with needed studs to the little old structure located behind the church that was called the food pantry, and hunkered down by the electric heater for a three-hour shift. At least if no one came, we had.

     About an hour and a half into the shift, thinking that it was going to be just a day to get a lot of reading in, a white man in his fifties approached the building, looking at the front door displaying the hours the pantry was open. It looked like he decided to give it a try and see if we were there. He came in, surprised to see people sitting there. He wasn't sure if anyone was going to be there, seeing it was the holiday, he said. But he needed food; things were running low at home. His was a family of two; himself and an eighty-four year old woman.

     He left with his provisions, having made fast friends with our dog. Kirk is like that; he makes friends with man and dog alike easily. He isn't much on racist or classist attitudes. Poverty isn't racist either. It will visit anybody. It doesn't take off controversial federal holidays, arguing whether it should commemorate a black guy or a white guy.

     We had to drive in the cold to go back home. When we got there, we debated over what to eat for lunch. What a luxury- to have a choice of food from a full pantry. You could forget about that reality very easily. You could think it was a really big deal whether John Kerry or Howard Dean won the Iowa caucus, or complain about George Bush's State of the Union address, and forget about the full refrigerator. In the meantime, there are others who don't forget. It would be a luxury if they ever could.