my dad

Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day, a holiday to celebrate a leader in civil and human rights.

I remember, while living in Pittsburgh, when Dr. King was assassinated, and how his unjust death spurred some unbelievable trauma, tumult, and terror in the city of Pittsburgh. Living in a very white neighborhood, not really having much interaction with the black community, it was a shock for many of us to consider that Dr. Kings death could and would create such outrage.

My father was a cop, one of six Jewish cops in the city of Pittsburgh at the time, and he had received his fair share of anti Semitic bullying from his fellow police workers. My father had started his career working in the neighborhood of Homewood which in the sixties in Pittsburgh was totally all black in its demographic makeup. He had been on beat patrol, and walked the streets of Homewood with his billy club and gun. My father had done a whole lot of person to person interaction and intervention, and had his picture in the Pittsburgh Press delivering his share of babies in Homewood. He felt close to the people living in Homewood, and although raised on his own dose of bigotry tried hard to remove the scars of poor parenting to find an open mind and be as fair as he could in working with the citizens of Homewood. And my father knew that it was not only color that made people create enemies, it was religion, it was ignorance and it was the simple fact that others always needed someone a rung lower then they on their ladder of life.

But try as he may in understanding and tolerance, my father was taken aback with the riots after Dr. Kings death, came home from a 15 hour shift, and told my sisters and I from now on we would would lock our front door, we could not drive into any of the black neighborhoods, and we should all look twice before approaching anyone.

The news coverage in Pittsburgh concentrated on the fighting, the burning, the looting taking place in our city, and not until the anger subsided and calm was restored, did the press, the preachers, the people even ask the question how could this have happened.

It took quite a few years for some semblance of order to find its place in Pittsburgh. The talking heads argued as to the causes, some refusing to admit their own responsibility, some ringing their hands wondering why, and some continuing to hate, to blame, and not acknowledge the possibility of consensus.

On the eve of Dr. Martin Luther King Day, America is still in the throws of mayhem, murder and myth. We are still arguing who is to blame, who is at fault, who caused this. We offer dissent, and very little consensus. Since Dr. King’s assassination we have seen disaster and doom find its footing in this country. We have had people like my father who thought they understood how to communicate, how to be real, how to reach out only to be thwarted by something they felt was bigger than their own fortitude.

Who becomes the victim in America when something as horrendous and horrible as the Tucson shooting takes place? How do we stop the victimization of America? When do more of us become brave enough to enough is enough?