I remember sitting in social studies class as a young girl listening to Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I have a dream speech", hair standing up on the back of my neck, wondering how I could help bring those dreams to fruition in my lifetime.
I remember being introduced to jazz music in college and the poetic history of pain and dreams that weaves itself in the cadences of notes and sound transformed the way I listened to it.
I remember teaching a class full of white kids in suburban Massachusetts the poetry of Langston Hughes and a dream deferred, wondering if they understood, in all their privilege and status, that life isn't so easy for everyone.
And today, my son stood by side and helped me, with his little finger, choose the first African-American president of the United States. It was one of my proudest moments as a parent. He may not understand the magnitude of that moment now but someday he will be able to say that he took part in history, in helping a dream deferred become a dream reality.
I am overwhelmed and so proud of our country that we were able to overcome history and look forward to a time when as Martin Luther King Jr. said, "...one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.'." I think this is a pretty good start.