Author: Sheila Morris

Fourteen years of publishing with more than a thousand posts, the possibility of duplicate themes looms large. One of my favorite topics is the holiday celebrating the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. – I’ve written twenty-three posts in which Dr. King was featured, and I feel a sense of responsibility toward preserving his legacy, especially on the day we set aside to honor him in my country. This post was originally published on September 23, 2014.

 South Carolina Pride was this past weekend in the state capitol of Columbia. I took 163 digital images over the weekend and posted my favorites on social media. I am a believer in the old adage “a picture is worth a thousand words,” and these pictures are images of hope, faith, love and joy – plus the occasional unsmiling prophecy pretenders. I love the pictures, but I can’t resist the thousand words, give or take a few.

When I look at these images, I hear the voices of America singing.  I hear the cries of Paul Revere on his midnight ride and the loud sounds of argument, even heated debate as the Founding Fathers (yes, Virginia – there were no mothers present) drafted the Constitution of the United States with a Bill of Rights guaranteeing individual liberties.

I hear the sounds of slaves who could not speak to their masters, and I hear the whispers of abolitionists who spirited those slaves away in the darkness. I hear the cries of the wounded, dying Confederate and Union soldiers as the artillery fired around them on the fields at Vicksburg and Gettysburg; I hear the cannon fired in Charleston Harbor at Fort Sumter.

I hear the choruses of the suffragettes who held a convention in Seneca, New York, and marched because they dared to dream women had the right to vote –  which they hoped would lead to greater equality, but then I hear the roll call of states that  refused to ratify an Equal Rights Amendment which attempted to level the playing field for “the weaker sex” in the 1970s.

I hear the singing of the marchers in Selma and Birmingham in the 1960s as they walked to overcome their harsh treatment.  I hear the voices of angry rappers today in Fullerton, Missouri, over the endless struggles for fair treatment in a country where equality is, too often, lip-synced.

I hear the voices of the drag queens at Stonewall in 1969 as they refused to be treated inhumanely and stand firm against the oppression of the gay community. I hear the sounds of pleas by children who are thrown out of their homes and into the streets when their family confronts their sexuality. I hear the sounds of comfort and support from people who respond with love to these children in distress…

I wish I had the gift of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to describe my feelings as I rode on the Pioneers Float Saturday, but since I don’t, I’ll borrow his words from his last speech on April 3, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee – the day before he was assassinated:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now.  We’ve got some difficult days ahead.  But it doesn’t matter with me now.  Because I’ve been to the mountaintop.  And I don’t mind.  Like any man I would like to live a long life.  Longevity has its place.  But I’m not concerned about that now…God’s allowed me to go up to the mountain.  And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land.  I may not get there with you.  But I want you to know today that we, as a people, will get to the promised land.  And I’m happy, today,  I’m not worried about anything.  I’m not fearing any man.”

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Dr. King carried me to the mountaintop with him more than once through his words, deeds, dreams, faith, hope and love – his unfailing commitment to peaceful change. Regardless of how I feel today on his special day in 2025, I know I’ve been to the mountaintop and seen the promised land. I hope you have, too.