Yesterday while I was sitting on a bench in downtown San Jose, an elderly African-American woman approached the bench next to me, wringing her hands, wearing a mournful expression. She sat next to another woman, put her arms around that woman, and said, "Rosa Parks is dead." And then they both rocked one another back and forth, humming a song only they could hear. I am exceedingly grateful that this is the way in which I heard the news.
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When I was in high school I had to make up a scrapbook based on a leader's life. I chose her. She was an amazing woman.
Yesterday while I was sitting on a bench in downtown San Jose, an elderly African-American woman approached the bench next to me, wringing her hands, wearing a mournful expression. She sat next to another woman, put her arms around that woman, and said, "Rosa Parks is dead." And then they both rocked one another back and forth, humming a song only they could hear. I am exceedingly grateful that this is the way in which I heard the news.
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