Charla and I had been on our own Civil Rights mini-tour for several days. We had stopped at what is left of the Bryant's store, we took in the museum that highlights the tragic Emmett Till story, the Historic Intrepid Center in Glendora, Mississippi, and we'd had an amazing conversation with an African American rabbi and his friend. We talked of his days growing up in Greenville, MS. I shared with them my story of meeting the internal medicine physician/farmer who had supported my notions of stress on the health and well being of Black farmers when dealing with the USDA. Come to realize that this gentleman knew the farmer/physician. He told of how the farmer/physician was quite a farmer in that area of the south. The farmer/physician and I had met at a Black land loss summit in Memphis, Tennessee in January, 2006. The physician is still practicing.
We journeyed over to Jackson to site of the iconic Woolworth scene in which young Black people and a few white college students (including Loki Mulholland's mother) protested for the right of people of color to sit at lunch counters and to eat where other normal folk eat.
We found that. Read a few signs. And then we made our way to the next part of the journey.
I wanted to meet face to face if possible with former USDA Agriculture Secretary Mike Espy. Mr. Espy had served for a couple of years under President Clinton until, in my opinion, he got too uppity in the eyes of the white establishment and then the fabricated charges rolled in and shut down his efforts for justice.
Charla and I had an old office location and phone number. Neither worked.
We walked into the Visit Jackson! office downtown and asked for directions. People sat up and began to get curious as to why we were looking for him. We looped in a couple of things like meeting him, wanting him eventually for an interview for a documentary on Black farmers. Charla and I were certainly objects of curiosity with our Black Farmer BFAA T-shirts on, her with her flaming red hair and freckles, and me with my whatever face on. Two white people wearing Black folks shirts and talking about meeting one of Jackson's key people who was involved in a political campaign at the moment.
As we stood there and talked, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman walk past us, pause, and then turn back around to us. She had gone several feet down a long hall to our right, just behind the desk where the Visit Jackson! folks were talking to us.
She came back, and with a note of interest said, "My daddy was a Black farmer and I couldn't help but overhear what you were talking about." Charla and I were pleased to meet her. We chatted about our interests and then she said rather calmly, "Mrs. Espy is one of my best friends. I'll call her and ask where her husband's office is located." We were ecstatic.
She returned with the information. His office was on the north side of Jackson, not far away. We chatted further and attempted to express our gratitude, without over doing it, for her "intrusion" and information
We found our way to Mr. Espy's office, but he was in DC. We did, however, exchange business cards with his campaign manager, a young woman who had just moved to Jackson from some place up north. I do believe we also saw in passing Mr. Espy's son, a young man who looked very much like he could be his son indeed. But, we dared not assume or presume.
From that point on, my partner in the documentary effort, Shoun Hill from the Bronx, continued to pursue him in the hopes of interviewing him for the documentary. His role was pivotal and will come out clearly when we release the film into the public's eye here shortly.
In the grand scheme of things, beautiful things happen. Charla and I just followed our instincts and asked questions. Jacksonian people were extraordinarily helpful, especially the woman whose father was a "Black farmer," and who had a "best friend" who was the wife of the gentleman we wished to see.
It is indeed a small world. People are very helpful and seem happy to help when they get the vibe that we are into things for the good of the people.
So, today, I am happy to share this story with you. I hope you and I both will be good citizens and prove to be helpful and kind to those in search of various and sundry things.
The world needs us. The world needs us badly. We need the world. We need each other. Badly.
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