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| Photo: © Stan Banos |
Took a bit of time off recently, survived a plane ride devoid of Black Uniformed thugs loaded with gear, and made my way to The March in DC before spending a few days with moms in NYC. For the past couple of months I was hopin' and a prayin’ that it wouldn’t rain on said date, and fortunately, it didn’t- although hotter ‘n hell with humidity you could cut with a butter knife. Honestly, I don’t know how masses of people weren’t hospitalized, but then, I guess the vast majority of folks weren’t foolish enough to walk around in ninety degree heat for six hours non stop looking for photos... and it was an icee vendor when finally over that saved me from passing out.
Had always wondered what it was like to attend the original MLK march in DC back in the day over fifty years ago- the one you see with wall to wall people going towards virtual infinity on either side of the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial.* Those B&W photos were almost like magic to me, and this event lived up to expectations in living color. Never did see so many damn people in one place in my life spanning several generations, two thirds Black, one third Other- and one very positive vibe throughout. We lacked the ultra-charismatic leader of an MLK, but those gathered were as in the moment, as they were committed towards the future. As one most poignant of signs put it- "They're trying to start a race war, we're trying to stop one!" Of course, there's so much more to say, so much more ugliness to address, so much division to heal..
Eventually, people made a human chain across the reflecting pool with their signs in hand- an inspirational sight to behold both in its simplicity and grandeur. Tempted as I was to follow on in for some unique photo ops and to cool my aching dogs (my younger self would have)- I just saw my current day self slippin' and a trippin' like some wounded wildebeest crossing the river with lions in pursuit. My two cameras were already smoldering to the touch and I didn't further want to test their much touted "weather resistance." So I rather wisely refrained, continuing to concentrate on the thousands of land bound subjects at hand. And when the day was done, I ended up with about a dozen strong contenders along with the blisters healing to this day. That evening it commenced to thunder, and rain fell the entirety of the following day, which was fine- the wait was over, the deed was done, the respite welcomed.
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| Photo: © Stan Banos |
I was staying at a small B&B near Howard University, a historically Black neighborhood which was now very mixed and gleaming from that fresh squeezed, just gentrified sheen. On the surface everything was cool, people were friendly and everyone got along. But that certain new found look of forced prosperity comes at a deep and underlying cost wherever it happens, as a short talk with a local native quickly bore out. It is what it is, I suppose..
PS- More photos to come..
*When I first visited Wash, DC, it was as a child with my family and a carload of relatives. We drove up to the the storied Lincoln Monument, and my father circled about trying to find the ever elusive parking lot. Having failed his quest, he threw his hands up, said what the hell, and parked the station wagon right smack in front of Mr. Lincoln's building. As we walked up the stairs, he turned around as we all noticed the motor cycle cop pull over to the curb, remove his helmet and shake his head at who would ever... By now dad had taken out his trusty Bell and Howell Super 8 and filmed the entire sequence with said cop, foot on bumper, writing out his ticket and placing it on the windshield before riding off on his Harley.
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