“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine”
To the Editor,
It was 1965. Dad and Mom took their four kids to Mississippi for the march for voter registration. Daddy told me that if we got separated, to know that “remember when you learned in school that the policemen are your friends? Well, forget it.” That was so true there. Mom was welcomed as a driver with three small children to be a health care lookout, since driver’s licenses had been pulled from all other drivers by the state police. At least she could drive, for that day.
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