It's Martin Luther King Day, which is a reminder of the nation's trauma but also its promise, along with now being a symbol of "normal." And we are not living in "normal" times... Trump has taken care of that.
Do I need to say more than he sent a text to Norway's prime minister that one reason he wants to take over Greenland so bad is that the country didn't give him the Nobel Peace Prize. Good Lord! The prime minister responded by noting the government of Norway has nothing to do with awarding Nobel prizes, but our delusional dictator is unable to understand simple facts.
But it appears that the majority of Americans are pretty much OK with Trump and with the state of affairs we find ourselves in... though I'm not sure what anyone can do about the insanity, the lawlessness, and the immorality. After all, our elected leaders have been reduced to watching it all happening and our system has been exposed as relying almost exclusively on our leaders "acting right." We are now learning a very hard lesson and I have no idea how things will go.
But MLK Day is also a chance for me to remember my one Black friend growing up in Iowa City: Mike Cooper. We both went to Roosevelt Elementary and he lived at the bottom of what then seemed like a horrifying hill that Benton Street plunged down just east of the school.
I mention Benton Street hill because the mere act of walking or biking down that hill to Mike's house was daunting enough to keep me from visiting very often. He may have felt the same about the arduous climb up the hill, but we rarely were in one another's homes. Most of our relationship happened in the school and on the school grounds.
I did go to his house a few times after school, and I mention this because the Coopers had some albums recorded by Black musicians -- early Motown, maybe? -- and he would play some for me. He called them "soul music," and that was the extent of our discussion of race. His parents may have been home, or maybe not. They both were associated with the university. Maybe professors? In Iowa City, professors' kids were a dime a dozen and no kids really paid attention. I found that to be true much later while teaching at City High.
I had the audacity to teach English to the children of English teachers... and rarely even gave that a thought. I now wonder whether they spend time dissecting one of my many flawed lessons.
A notable physical characteristic Mike dealt with was that his left arm was shriveled, barely extending a foot from his shoulder, with a miniature hand dangling. Unsurprisingly, his right arm was massive, doing all the work. He never talked about whether this was a birth defect or the result of a childhood accident. It just was a fact.
We played baseball on the playground and in Little League and Babe Ruth and Mike provided a daily example of how humans can overcome life's challenges. Mike batted just like everyone else, though not being able to snap the bat with the aid of his left hand meant that most of the time he hit to right field.
He played first base, which made sense since a first baseman rarely had to quickly throw to another player following a play at first. When he did need to throw, he developed a rapid maneuver where he tucked his glove (containing the ball) under his left armpit, grabbed the baseball, and quickly fired it to home or the pitcher or whomever.
Believe it or not, he could do this so smoothly that he could turn a 3-6-3 double play (scooping up the grounder, throwing to second, and getting back to bag with his glove back on). I saw it several times.
Even when I was in fifth grade, I found this fascinating to watch and quickly came to enjoy the results of other teams underestimating Mike's abilities, whether at bat or in the field. But I also don't remember thinking his unique tactics were particularly heroic or even unusual. Of course he did it that way!
But Mike Cooper was a hero. That he happened to be Black had nothing to with it.
I was a senior in high school when Dr. King was murdered, and I had lost track of Mike. I think the family had moved. It was in April, of course, and I'm sure I was fixated on my little personal struggles... a girlfriend dumping me... worrying about leaving town for college in the fall... and the general sense that America was ruled by guns and power differentials. Of course it was.
I was far from the front lines of racism or gun violence back then, so I'm sure I didn't let a little assassination disturb me all that much.
But nearly 60 years later, it's dumbfounding to realize how little people all around us have changed. I thought we could move past our nation's Original Sin (racism) within my lifetime.
I was too optimistic.
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