Warm feet at MLK march; enjoy the moment

It’s possible that I’m addicted to MLK marches.  Besides the obvious allure of marching for civil rights and marching to honor MLK, I think it’s the cold that’s the attraction.

My first march would have been in January of 1994 in Grand Forks, ND.  I think it was -10 degrees, and Kylie was almost two years old, bundled up in a powder blue snow suit.  I remember it because she got her picture in the Grand Forks Herald.  Not to be outdone, it was about that cold in 2003 when a parka clad marcher clomped down Superior Street onto the front page of The Budgeteer News.  You’ll have to take my word for it that it was me.  Media mavens.  I’ve still got the parka (zipper’s broken, but for cryin’ out loud, you can’t just throw it out like it was nothin’!).

Today Maritha, Sherry and I marched with several hundred down Lake Avenue and then Superior Street.  It was about 15 degrees, tropical almost, and it definitely had a party like feel to it.  There were lots of parents with tiny kids, like Kylie back in the day.  There were people we knew, and many more that we didn’t know, but there was a feeling that we were marching some place real.

That place was either a better world, or the DECC auditorium where there was a rally afterwards.  There was great music, and Dr. Curtis Austin of the U of Southern Miss was an interesting key note, but it was warm in the auditorium and my feet got hot.  A march without adversity is a great thing – easy and enjoyable.  I can imagine that any marching Dr. King did was considerably different.

Funny, but I miss the bitter cold; the forcast has more of it coming.  Said my meteorologist, that Obama fellow, “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”  My feet are warm, so bring it on.