I walked across that bridge in Selma, I was shot at in Mississippi, I’ve done what I was capable of doing over the years.

Edwin and activism

One of the things he was most proud of in his life, and therefore spoke of least often (usually prefaced by, I'm not bragging but. . . . the rule of his household of origin was that you didn't speak of things that you were proud of: that was "bragging") was his activism. His very real, "put your body into it" activism. Put your time, put your money, put your brain and heart into activism. Speak up even if you are afraid activism. Do it even if it's dangerous activism.

What I know for sure of that is what he told me. As a young man, first away at college in the late fifties, early sixties, he started at Tulane, and gravitated immediately to the theatre department although his official major was pre-law. The theatre department was crawling with community organizers. He wasn't adverse, and joined them. After that he was at Carnegie, and then at Lambda, in London. Was back in the US in Florida, doing Shakespeare in 1965. Just in time for the King and Meredith Marches.

He told me once about sitting around a camp fire in the dark, surrounded by state troopers. Everyone being afraid, and Seeger striding through with his guitar and everyone singing their fears away.

Yesterday, I found the pictures of that very intense young man in Florida. The piercing gaze, the soft curling hair. And loved him all over again. Last night, I was looking through pictures of the marches, and found this one. It's from the March Against Fear in 1966. They'd stop every night, and the leaders would speak to them, encourage them.




Perhaps this *isn't* Edwin. Some other white boy with soft curling hair. But I kind of think it is. The way the ear lays against the head is one I'm heart-breakingly familiar with. . . .