Elvis, MLK and the dreams of kings
A year ago, fans of Elvis Presley descended on Memphis to mark the 40th anniversary of his death. The annual candlelight vigil drew more than 100,000 people – twice the number in a typical year. Beating that crowd was one reason my wife and I visited Memphis last summer for my fifth Graceland tour.
The trip sated my Elvis obsession for the time being, but another Memphis stop left me thirsting for more. Spurred by a very personal interest in race relations, my wife and I spent an afternoon at the National Civil Rights Museum at the old Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968, at age 39.
We saw room 306 where Dr. King slept the night before his murder and where a white wreath hangs from the balcony on which he last stood. Across the street, we saw the room from which the bullet was fired. Those were chilling views, but as a white male I found the exhibits that traced the history of slavery and race relations even more disconcerting.
Try walking through an exhibit room filled with African-American children and adults while listening to the sounds of whips slashing at slaves.
In the year since our trip, we’ve read more about Dr. King and his teachings, watched as our country’s racist divide seems to be widening, and participated in a “How To Talk About Race” church group. We view of all this through the lens of our 4-yearold grandson, Mason.
A whirling dervish of energy, he’s the light and life of the family since being born on the Fourth of July 2014. He’s also mixed-race, with a white mother and an African-American father, the most visible evidence being a mop-like mass of curly, dark brown hair. To date, that signature look elicits only smiles and good vibes wherever he goes.
But with history as an indicator, that won’t always be the case. Someday, someone will look at him and judge him not by the person he is, but by the color of his skin. As I watch this little boy play with his hockey guys or make Play-Doh snakes, that’s a sobering and incredibly hurtful thought, but it’s the reality of life in the U.S., a reality that our family had little reason to consider until our oldest daughter began dating her future husband and our grandson arrived.
I grew up in Pennsylvania on
what’s known as the “White Shore” of Harrisburg. My high school had very few minorities, so I had few encounters with people of color and none that were traumatic or tragic. Even so, I learned prejudice; although my actions were not overt, sometimes my thoughts, in hindsight, were not justifiable. And I certainly did nothing to expand my thinking on the topic. Now, I do.
I don’t know where this road will lead me or what curves it might take, but I’m committed to doing what I can so that Mason and others in his generation will be treated and judged fairly. Sound Pollyannaish? Of course, but if you’re going to dream, dream big.
Which brings me back to Elvis and Dr. King.
Dr. King became a pastor and a civil rights activist in the mid-1950’s. In 1963 he delivered a momentous speech: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” A year later he was named the youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.
Elvis grew up dirt-poor, but fused black and white music in a unique style which made him one of the greatest entertainers in history. Apolitical in public, he occasionally spoke out through his music, with songs such as the haunting “If I Can Dream“. In 1968, shortly after Dr. King was killed and with the country embroiled in racial strife, Elvis sang, “If I can dream of a better land, where all my brothers walk hand in hand, tell me why, oh why, oh why can’t my dream come true?”
Sad to say, those lyrics and Dr. King’s words are just as applicable today as ever, for the reality of race relations remains harsh. But to me, it’s that harsh reality that makes dreaming the dream so worthwhile.
Tim Wesley, a Pennsylvania resident, is a corporate communications executive and an occasional freelance writer. His book, “My Boxes: A Nostalgic Collection of Stories and Stuff,” features a chapter about Elvis’s renowned 1976 New Year’s Eve concert in Pittsburgh.