Rewind through the years. Stop at the middle of 1963.

You and your fellows, mostly African-Americans, are all gathered to listen to Martin Luther King Jr's, "I Have a Dream" speech, not knowing that in five short years he will be assassinated, that one January a day will be devoted entirely to this man standing before you now, that the very words you are listening to will become nationally recognized. You are just watching and listening.

Cheers erupt from the crowd as King says powerfully, confidently, with a fierce strength, "And when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and hamlet, from every state and city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children -- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Catholics and Protestants -- will be able to join hands and to sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last, free at last; thank God Almighty, we are free at last.'"

But you're only half paying attention. You are thinking of the past century, and all of the stories told to you by the fireside. Every racist comment spat at you, your daddy, and you daddy's daddy rushes into your mind. Every single time a White person pushed your family into the dust because they were in a hurry.

And you visit that day that your daddy's daddy said to you, so many years ago, "I know we're all God's children, honey. You can't imagine how much I know that. And you know that too. But frankly, White people don't care what we think. What they say goes."

"Now, this civil rights movement they're talking about might change things a little," he says. "It's a ray of hope after all these years of being beaten, cast aside, thrown away. And I may not be around to see it. But I pray to God you will, my grandchild. I pray to God you will."

A tear or two roll down your cheek. Don't they see how much hurt we've been through? Don't they care?

More applause sweeps through the crowd. You will not give up. You cannot give up. If ever little White children will knock on your door to ask if your little Black children can come out and play -- the one thing in your life you'd wish to have more than anything -- you cannot back down now. You've gotten too far. With a new surge of fiery strength, you make your way home as everyone sets off on their separate ways.

This was how it was for so many people, and not that long ago. African-Americans were treated like dirt. People spat at them, used slurs so vicious I don't even want the ink of my pen to produce them. One Black family, as I've read, even had to call their daughter by another name because a White family, whose girl was born the same year, did not want her daughter to have the same name as an African-American child.

(Read The Land by Mildred D. Taylor -- many of her books are inspired by what really happened to her family.)

This was wrong. Something should have been done about it a lot sooner. "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal," says the U.S. Declaration of Independence. But America continued to go on like this. That is, it did until just recently, in the 20th Century. Some say it began with Rosa Parks...

The year was 1955. Rosa Parks had just gotten off a long day's work and was exhausted. Then a White man waltzed over to where she was sitting, in the middle of the bus. He told her to go to the back, where a sign said "Colored". Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat.

Actually, she might have given it up quite willingly to an elderly person, or someone carrying heavy grocery bags. But Rosa was tired of all the racism; she had put up with unimaginable segregation and discrimination all her life, and she remembered how her grandparents had been strong. Now was her chance to take a stand.

It wasn't a walk in the park, mind you. She was arrested that day. But African-Americans weren't giving up. In fact, it was only the beginning.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., called for a boycott against all city buses. No African-American was seen riding any city bus for many months. And slowly yet steadily, the bus company started to lose money. Three out of four of its riders were Black. Even though those who followed Martin Luther King, Jr., had but three simple demands:

(1) Change the law that states black passengers must give up their seats to white passengers;
(2) Bus drivers must be courteous to all riders;
(3) Hire African-American bus drivers.

But the bus company did not change their segregation rule.

Others were convinced that the protesters -- who mostly were supporting large families were not wealthy -- could not afford to miss work and would be back on the bus soon.

Pity those who believed that; it didn't happen that way. African-Americans kept finding other methods of transportation, from riding in a carpool to sitting atop a mule.

Since this meant Black families were shopping closer to home, the White owners of downtown stores were losing money and getting quite hotheaded. They started harassing anyone involved with the protest. There were threatening phone calls. Homes were vandalized. A bomb even exploded inside Martin Luther King, Jr's home.

No one was hurt, but it made the protesters very angry. They wanted to start fighting on the spot, but King, who was a reverend and had studied the nonviolent philosophies of Mahatma Gandhi, told them calmly that violence was not the answer.

Almost a year after Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat, the Supreme Court ruled that segregation laws were unconstitutional. And the very next day, Rosa Parks sat proudly at the front of the bus.

Over the next thirteen years, Reverend King led other nonviolent protests like this, and also made many speeches. He also helped found the Southern Christian Leadership Committee. Among other awards, Dr. King won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. He gave the award money to civil rights organizations, keeping none for himself.

Four years later, at the age of 39, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee, the day after he gave his last speech, entitled "I've Been to the Mountaintop."

"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 anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He'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 tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

I do hope you remember that Monday, January 17, was not just a day off of school for American kids. It is the defeat of many, many years of torture and racism. It is a day in honor of one man -- not a President or a religious leader -- that changed America forever. More than anything, I hope you remember that.

February is national Black History Month in America. I encourage you all to do some research and write about it. A paragraph, or a detailed thirty-page report, it doesn't matter. Just find some way to celebrate the freedoms we take for granted every single day of our lives.

So long and thanks for all the fish,

armada