Saturday, April 18, 2009

What Might Have Been

U.S. Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Md.) shared his family's story at a Teamster's organizing conference. His parents had been sharecroppers in South Carolina in the 1940s. They married at 18. His father had a second grade education; his mother a first grade education. His father worked from dawn to dusk on someone else’s farm, plowing behind a mule for 15 cents a day. His mother earned 10 cents a day digging potatoes.

At some point Cummings’ father realized: “We got to get ourselves up out of here.” They moved north as did millions of other African Americans. He got a job at a steel plant in Baltimore, made $1.10 an hour and only had to work 8 hours a day. He became a union man, had health insurance and vacation. Eventually, the couple had seven children, saved their money and bought a four-bedroom house.

Cummings said his dad used to tell the kids, “If you miss even one day of school it will be because you died the night before.” Cummings’ father had been deprived of an education, but he was determined to make sure his children had it better. He attended church every Sunday, sang in the choir, and walked the picket line when the union went out on strike.

When Elijah Cummings was sworn into office as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, his father watched from the gallery and cried. The son had never seen the father cry before. Elijah asked why now. His father replied, “Of course I’m proud of you, but now I see what I could have been.”

[Jim Winkler, What Might Have Been in Words from Winkler, General Board of Church and Society website, April 17, 2009.]

Poking Holes in the Darkness

Robert Louis Stevenson, author of Treasure Island, had a difficult childhood, due to ill health. One night the nurse found him up, out of bed, his nose pressed against the window. “Come here, child,” she said to him. “You’ll catch your death of cold.” But he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he sat, mesmerized, watching a lamplighter slowly working his way through the black night, lighting each street light along his route. Pointing to him, Robert said, “See, look there; there’s a man poking holes in the darkness!”

- from the sermon Poking Holes in the Darkness, by Kenneth L. Carter. Circuit Rider Magazine, Jan/Feb 2003, p. 27.