I talked to the bartender. She was a round woman from Birmingham, Alabama. I told her I cycled through Alabama, and it made her delighted. I asked her what it was like to live there before the Civil Rights movement. She told that they had different water fountains for whites and blacks, that she had to sit in the back seat in a bus and was asked leave the seat when there was no seat for white people..
I knew all about these facts, all the segregation and Jim Crow law.
But the history was dead to me. I couldn’t feel it. Just like the fact I know people die in Palestine but I don’t have much of sympathy for them.
But today, I could feel it. Her life became a part of my history.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
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