Shame-ful [sheym-fuhl] adj: 1. causing shame: shameful behavior 2. disgraceful or scandalous: shameful treatment.

Synonyms: 1. mortifying, humiliating. 2. dishonorable, vile, low, ignominious.

The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. 40 years ago today was all of those things and more.

The chaos that ensued in the days following King’s death put Lady Liberty on center stage; only to have the winds of unexpected change blow her dress waist-high, exposing the filth that had been hidden from the world for years underneath.

People wonder why riots broke out across the United States following King’s murder. We were out of answers; we tried turning the other cheek only to get kicked in the ass. We marched peacefully and were met with fire hoses, nightsticks and German Shepherds. So what was left? The hedge had been removed from around us, Malcolm X was gone, Medgar Evers was gone, hell JFK was gone. We were rudderless and had no one or no thing to fall back on. I think on that day most Blacks even gave up praying, and when Black folk give up praying, it ain’t good.

In July, 1995 I went to Atlanta for a couple of days, my first day there I went to the church where Dr. King worshiped and from there I went to the King memorial.

Away from the memorial, there was a mini-museum with some of Dr. King’s belongings; there was his preaching robe (he was much shorter and not as thick as he looked on T.V. and photos), his Bible, and one artifact that stood out more than any — his room key at The Divine Lorraine Hotel in Memphis, TN.

From there I made my way over to the Memorial, as I approached, a feeling of appreciation came over me and I said to myself, “Here I am at the same place in time with one of the Greatest men who ever lived.” “He doesn’t know who I am or that I’m even here, but I feel enveloped in his peaceful spirit.” I’ve never had a feeling of peace like that before. My sister took a picture of me sitting with the Memorial in the background. I was 23 at the time, fresh out of college and unsure of what I wanted to do. Looking at who I am and what I’m doing today — I consider myself a small piece of The Dream.

Thank You Dr. King., I’m sure we’ll meet again.

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