Thanks for this. I attended this Jesse Jackson's speech on 13th Street. We all stook in the middle of the street and listened. I cannot recall ever being so moved by a political speech. By the end of it, many of the people attending, myself included, were brought to tears by Mr. Jackson's eloquence.
Max, I had originally written this post with the event taking place on W. 13th St., but then I second guessed myself, thinking that I remembered that little triangular park on our right. But you're probably right.
A long time ago. Yes, I remember thinking "We're standing in the middle of W 13th Street listening to a speech by Jesse Jackson." It was a New York moment.
What a beautiful memorial post. One part of your writing brought me to tears…
“Rather, it was about the possibility that there might be a fork in the road of history that could lead all disenfranchised communities to a greater measure of equality, respect, and unity.”
I live in SW Mississippi, & “The Forks of the Road” is special to me. I used to load my electric mower into the back of my car & mow the property as a sign of communion & respect to those slaves who died there, black & white (“Wash”- few folks understand “Wash”). There is a memorial. Broken shackles.
Someone would often leave flowers there that I would tidy & was careful not to disturb. Once a newspaper employee even stalked & harassed me there…but when I referred them to Mr. Boxley, (a real & black local historian) they sure didn’t want to speak to him.
Forks of the Road was once one of the largest slave markets in the confederate South.
Nowadays NPS cares for the Forks of the Road property, but tourists get to learn some real history - not just the antebellum homes bullsh*t.
The slaves shackles are a burden no longer. That is the only way I can describe to you what I feel when I visit or think about the Forks of the Road.
Thanks for this. I attended this Jesse Jackson's speech on 13th Street. We all stook in the middle of the street and listened. I cannot recall ever being so moved by a political speech. By the end of it, many of the people attending, myself included, were brought to tears by Mr. Jackson's eloquence.
Max, I had originally written this post with the event taking place on W. 13th St., but then I second guessed myself, thinking that I remembered that little triangular park on our right. But you're probably right.
A long time ago. Yes, I remember thinking "We're standing in the middle of W 13th Street listening to a speech by Jesse Jackson." It was a New York moment.
What a beautiful memorial post. One part of your writing brought me to tears…
“Rather, it was about the possibility that there might be a fork in the road of history that could lead all disenfranchised communities to a greater measure of equality, respect, and unity.”
I live in SW Mississippi, & “The Forks of the Road” is special to me. I used to load my electric mower into the back of my car & mow the property as a sign of communion & respect to those slaves who died there, black & white (“Wash”- few folks understand “Wash”). There is a memorial. Broken shackles.
Someone would often leave flowers there that I would tidy & was careful not to disturb. Once a newspaper employee even stalked & harassed me there…but when I referred them to Mr. Boxley, (a real & black local historian) they sure didn’t want to speak to him.
Forks of the Road was once one of the largest slave markets in the confederate South.
Nowadays NPS cares for the Forks of the Road property, but tourists get to learn some real history - not just the antebellum homes bullsh*t.
The slaves shackles are a burden no longer. That is the only way I can describe to you what I feel when I visit or think about the Forks of the Road.
The shackles are broken.