It Was Like This
It was like this, grandson. In the fall of ’08 there was people walkin’ down the middle of the street, smiling and cryin’ at the same time. They was hanging on each other, crying and laughing and weeping. Staying up all night ’cause there was a black man elected President. A black man. Noways do I say I could ever live to see that day. Ordinary men broke down and cried. I did too. I was drivin’ home from work and I had to pull over.
Don’t you let anybody ever tell you you ain’t no good. Nobody got the right to say that to any man. Hold your head up, son. No matter what. No matter what they say, no matter how they look at you, no matter what they leave you out of, even now.
I remember of when I was a boy we lived in a little house on a man’s property near Estacada and helped him farm. In those days our toilet was on the porch. Can you believe that? I remember watchin’ my father walk up to the man and touch his hat to his forehead and bow his head and ask him if we could please have an indoor toilet. I felt worse ashamed of him touching his forehead like that worse than anything. Those days are gone now. You don’t understand how it was.
Now listen. In the great gettin’ up day when Jesus comes and all is bright in his glory, that day will be His Day. I will shout and sing Hallelujah. But the day we elected Mr. Obama to be our President. That was our day.
And that day was mighty fine too.
