Cheryl has now visited Graceland. She is thrilled and I must admit I was impressed by the presentation of Elvis Presley. While Cheryl was overloading the camera with pictures I stepped back and got a new perspective of the man- his apparent humility, his effort to overcome the anxiety he felt while on stage, his philanthropy, his spirituality and all his toys. When he was performing when Cheryl was young (I should say when Cheryl was younger) I saw the public figure of Elvis covered by news broadcasters overexposing spectacular things he was doing.
Today I saw a different portrayal, one of a sensitive person, shy in many respects, a philanthropist who on November 8, 1968 signed checks to charity totaling $40,000. At that time a teacher in Silverton, Oregon was making $5,600 per year. To give almost 8 times my annual salary to charity on one day is impressive.
Though heavily commercialized the trip to Graceland was a worthwhile experience for both of us. I'm glad I listened to my wife.
The Second stop was the National Civil Rights Museum which traced the black history to achieve freedom from slavery in the 1600's to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King. Earlier in the trip I wondered what I would have done had I stood in the streets and listened to Patrick Henry as he emotionally urged the people of Williamsburg to rebel against the crown. That same rhetoric was offered by Dr. King and others on behalf of Black Freedom. This was from my era. This was part of my generation. And what did I do?
I listened with detached interest. I went on with my life because it did not involve my world. Even though the TV pictures were telling the story I did nothing to support those efforts. I just did not understand the breadth of the situation. I did not understand the sacrifices being made. Looking back, I could have, and should have, done better.
To stand in room 306 of the Lorraine Motel and look out at the concrete where Dr. King lay after being shot was a moving moment for me. It brought home the sacrifice made for freedom.
This was a heavy day.
Today I saw a different portrayal, one of a sensitive person, shy in many respects, a philanthropist who on November 8, 1968 signed checks to charity totaling $40,000. At that time a teacher in Silverton, Oregon was making $5,600 per year. To give almost 8 times my annual salary to charity on one day is impressive.
Though heavily commercialized the trip to Graceland was a worthwhile experience for both of us. I'm glad I listened to my wife.
The Second stop was the National Civil Rights Museum which traced the black history to achieve freedom from slavery in the 1600's to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King. Earlier in the trip I wondered what I would have done had I stood in the streets and listened to Patrick Henry as he emotionally urged the people of Williamsburg to rebel against the crown. That same rhetoric was offered by Dr. King and others on behalf of Black Freedom. This was from my era. This was part of my generation. And what did I do?
I listened with detached interest. I went on with my life because it did not involve my world. Even though the TV pictures were telling the story I did nothing to support those efforts. I just did not understand the breadth of the situation. I did not understand the sacrifices being made. Looking back, I could have, and should have, done better.
To stand in room 306 of the Lorraine Motel and look out at the concrete where Dr. King lay after being shot was a moving moment for me. It brought home the sacrifice made for freedom.
This was a heavy day.
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