Hi. Its me, Lola. Happy birthday. There aren't many holidays that i take seriously. I live in America; the land of comercialization. As a result i yawn through most of the overly-commercialized, consumer driven occasions that we have been trained to "celebrate" yearly.
Valentines day? Ha. Who can buy the most neatly packaged crap-colored-red.
Christmas? Albeit (respectfully) the birthday of Christ, Ha Ha. Who can buy the most crap?
St. Patricks? Who can buy the most beer and green shit?
Thanksgiving? My trukey is bigger than yours.
Nonetheless, if you look hard enough, you find a few that are truly meaningful in a priceless way. I believe today is one of those days. I didn't feel the need to pop champagne in any club, or go shopping, or send out any generic cards. Rather i had a solitary celebration, and it was mostly internal. As the holiday calls for, i was happy that you were born. I honored your life. I mourned and lamented your untimely death. Then i venerated your legacy; the seed you planted 46 years ago. My how that little seed has blossomed; in many ways quite quickly and in others, not quite quick enough. Racism is alive and well in 2009, but fortunately so is my president. He's black ya know. And for that, i celebrate you. You are the forefather of the nation that i am apart of. One that has freed itself of enough barriers to endow Barack Obama, a black man with big ears and a funny name, with the Presidency. So i thank you. Now i can look into my sons eyes, and truthfully mean it when i tell him that dreams do come true. I can mean it when i tell him that he can be anything he wants to be; and when he replies: "even the president mommy?" I will proudly look him in the eye and affirm. Truthfully. So cheers to this day, and all that it commemorates. Happy B-day Dr. King.
♥ Lola
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