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The True Citizen, Wednesday, January 20, 2021 — Page 5
Michael N. Searles
YOU'VE BEEN A GOOD OLD WAGON
In 1895, Benjamin Robert
son “Ben” Harney, a songwrit
er and entertainer, composed
“You’ve Been a Good Old
Wagon but You Done Broke
Down.” The song is associ
ated with the African American
composer Scott Joplin often
labeled the King of Ragtime.
While a number of artists
would perform the song, none
surpassed the singing of the
legendary Bessie Smith. The
lyrics tell the whole story. “
Looka here, Daddy, I want to
tell you, please get out of my
sight. I’m playin’ quits now,
right from this very night.
You've had your day. Don't sit
around and frown. You've been
a good old wagon, Daddy, but
you done broke down.”
There are times when you
must abandon a sinking ship,
a house on fire, or a run-away
train. This is true whether the
ship used to be seaworthy; the
house has fond memories, or
the train has taken you on many
pleasant trips.
An old expression that still
has resonance: Success has
many fathers, but failure is an
orphan. Everyone wants to be
on a winning team but when
the team begins losing, people
look elsewhere. These last few
weeks are examples of the truth
of these bromides. A leader
who has gauged the temper of
the times often has tagalongs
who jump on the bandwagon.
In the film Forrest Gump,
there was a scene where For
rest Gump begins to run as a
result of extreme loneliness.
It starts as a mere exercise but
ends up being a cross country
run that lasts for three years.
Forrest’s run inspires media
attention and fellow runners
who follow him without any
knowledge as to where the run
would go or for what purpose
it was initiated. Just as sud
den as the run began, it ended
without explanation other than
Forrest’s statement that he was
tired. The words of wisdom
that many expected never
came.
There are many things that
begin with great expectations
but end with little fanfare.
We all have dreams and ex
pectations. Americans have
been dreaming of a better life
for a long time. Many came
and promised to fulfill those
dreams, but nothing happened.
When a Dream Catcher came
along and said he could capture
those dreams and make them
real, it is not surprising that
folks who desperately wanted
a better life followed him. As a
Dream Catcher gains a follow
ing and support, his popularity
does not go unnoticed. There
were those waiting on the
sidelines who knew in their
hearts that the Dream Catcher
was a charlatan, mountebank,
and a humbug, but were will
ing to go along to gain political
influence, fame and fortune. At
some point, deferred dreams
lead a person down one or
more paths.
With minimal words, Fangs-
ton Hughes’ poem, A Dream
Deferred,presented the conse
quences. “Does it dry up like
a raisin in the sun? Or fester
like a sore—-And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—like
a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just
sags like a heavy load. Or does
it explode? “
As the Dream fades, hang
ers-on seeing the writing on
the wall abandon ship. They
give multiple reasons for their
departure. They never liked
the Dream Catcher in the first
place. They tried to tell the
Dream Catcher that he was
taking the wrong path. They
thought the Dream Catcher
originally had a plan. They
had no idea how extreme the
Dream Catcher’s ideas were.
They stayed around to keep the
Dream Catcher from running
over a cliff. They themselves
were captured by the Dream
Catcher’s imagined future.
Whatever the reason, those
who see the road ahead know
it’s better to get off the train
before the big collision. Strains
of an African American music
form dating back to the late
19th century seems a fittingly
sardonic farewell to a Dream
Catcher who sought to decon
struct American life.” Fooka
here, Daddy, I want to tell you,
please get out of my sight. I'm
playin' quits now, right from
this very night. You've had
your day. Don't sit around and
frown. You've been a good old
wagon, Daddy, but you done
broke down.”
Diana Royal
I have a dream. I want to
be a dent in the explosion that
reawakens America. I want to
be a tiny sliver in the crack that
allows the sun to shine and the
earth to feel its warmth without
someone asking who’s gonna
pay the bill.
What’s your dream?
When I was a little girl, I
had such a vivid imagination
and such big dreams that even
the scariest of giants could
not crush them. I had a dream
of being a scientist. When I
discovered my disdain over
dissecting animals, I moved on.
I had a dream of being a super
model. But I was too short.
My dream changed again. I
wanted to be a mathematician,
a teacher, a writer. Though my
aspirations shape-shifted like
clouds, I kept reaching for
the sky. No one ever told me
I couldn’t. Or that I shouldn’t.
Or that I wasn’t supposed to.
Can you imagine being told
that you’re not good enough?
That because you’re so differ
ent, in a bad way, you aren’t
worthy of dreams? Can you
imagine someone telling your
child that?
In 1963, Dr Martin Futher
King Jr. presented his “I Have a
Dream” speech in Washington
D.C. The speech refers to the
Emancipation Proclamation
and the freeing of slaves. “But
100 years later the Negro is still
not free,” he said. That same
day, he led a peaceful march
with an army behind him —
200,000 deep.
Fifty-seven years later, we
are still at war with each other.
Fifty-seven years later, racism
and segregation still exist.
Fiftyseven years later, we cel
ebrate the memory of a man
whose dream included the
world. He isn’t here to rejoice
with us, to view the steps of
progress that were achieved
as a result of his fight, of his
vision. He isn’t here because
someone else ended his life;
someone else took it upon
himself to shoot Dr. King be
cause he didn’t want change;
he didn’t like brown skin. And
that small-minded coward si
lenced Dr. King the only way
he knew how - with a bullet
straight to the face.
WHAT'S YOUR DREAM
I won’t say we haven’t come
a long way since that day
in 1963. There are no more
“colored” water fountains.
We share restrooms and work
space. We even share ideas
and sit down together to share
a meal. Dr. King would be
proud to see us breaking bread
together, exercising together,
graduating college together, for
it was this notion of together
ness that he, and so many like
him, longed for.
It was the voice of MFK that
many black children and young
adults heard, telling them for
the first time in their lives,
“You can dream, too.”
Unfortunately, we’ve a long
way yet to go, but now we
must get out of our own way.
Dr. King’s message was about
equality - not just for blacks
but for everyone. His platform
was multicolored and bilingual.
Somewhere along the way, we
seem to have lost sight of that.
We are segregating ourselves.
We are killing ourselves. No
one seems to have an answer
for that. The only one I can
find, and it’s completely illogi
cal, is because we are different.
All these years later, all the
sacrifices made, lives lost and
walls torn down and we are
still victims of judgment and
ridicule. I am not defined by
my gender, by my skin or my
house or my education; no one
should be. We don’t have to be.
Why does anyone still let that
matter?
One by one, we can make
a difference; we can BE the
difference. We can continue a
legacy and help it grow, start
ing right here in this commu
nity, on both sides and in every
comer. Give what you can and
be who you are; it’s enough
and it matters. You matter. We
all matter.
I’ll leave you with these
beautiful words from a man
who instilled in many of us a
love that knows no depth and
a desire to see others succeed.
Martin Futher King Jr. spoke
these words in 1967:
“Be a bush if you can’t be a
tree. If you can’t be a highway,
just be a trail. If you can’t be a
sun, be a star. For it isn’t by size
that you win or fail. Be the best
of whatever you are.”
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contact Roy Chalker
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at 706-554-2111.
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