"Speak the Speech, I Pray You....."

So, I'll be headed back to DC in a few hours. This has been the second most-emotionally challenging journey of my life, and I'm proud to say it's also been the most rewarding. Not only did I get to spend some time focusing on what Julie's passing has meant, but I was also greatly comforted by her spirit. I'm feeling so secure and happy that my brother-in-law Ron is hangin' in there, and I'm feeling really optimistic about being able to move forward in my own life.

And I'm also really pysched that I was finally able to "tell it like it T-I IS" about my hometown, during the speech I gave at the High School on Thursday. Cairo, Illinois is famous around the world for many reasons......sadly, just as many bad ones as good ones. I won't get into specifics because it would take too long. Let's just say that between Lewis and Clark and Huck Finn and the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, Cairo should be tourist mecca for Americana folk lore. Instead, most people know it because, as Martin Luther King proclaimed, it was considered "the Birmingham (Alabama) of the north."

Racism and greed and hatred...and downright stupidity...have strangled my hometown, and I guess I got tired of coming back to Cairo, mouthing a few platitudes, and then leaving again for another year. Deep down, I knew that the day would come when I would just stop bothering to come back period, if things didn't change, and I didn't want that to happen.

So I wrote the speech I'm going to include in this posting, and let the Devil take the hindmost. I've been amazed at how well it was received. I've also been enlisted to come back to Cairo to put up or shut up about turning things around. So...I guess if I can go spend 8 months in Uganda helping people, I should be able to find some time for the place I was born.

Anyway, here's the speech I gave at Cairo High School on May 8, 2008. (I'm still processing some of the more emotionally difficult stuff that happened this past week, but when I'm ready, I'll tell you all about it....)

CAIRO: PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE KEYNOTE SPEECH

I’d like to extend a sincere thank you to the staff of the Simon Policy Institute at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale. If you knew how honored I am to be a part of anything involving Paul Simon’s legacy, you probably would have made me pay you for the opportunity to speak today. When I was growing up here in Cairo, Paul Simon was one of the beacons of truth, integrity and fairness for me and my family. I’ll never forget my mother Eloise talking about a community meeting she had attended where she actually got to speak to Paul Simon. I remember her describing how nice he was to her, and how he really listened to some of her ideas about what Cairo needed. When I finally got to meet him in the fall of 1994, I felt that same sense of sincerity and warmth.

Speaking of my family, I could not attempt to start this speech without acknowledging the fact that the last time I spoke to a crowd from this stage was last October, when I was giving a eulogy for my sister, Julie Newell. Here’s something ELSE the good people at the Simon Institute don’t know…..if I’d given myself time to think before I pounced on the invitation, I might not have accepted. Any of you who know me know what a tremendous loss my family and I have endured since last October. Because this morning is all about the history and the institutions of Cairo, I don’t think anyone in this audience would argue that Julie Newell was a phenomenal woman. She was so much a part of this town’s legacy that I don’t even have to go into details. If nothing else, her fried chicken spoke for itself.

In fact, I would not be standing here today without the love, support and belief that Julie Newell, and ANOTHER one of Cairo’s proud legacies, Ron Newell, instilled in me. Don’t get me wrong, Lewis and Eloise Jones gave me life, and for that I am eternally grateful. But Julie and Ron gave me dreams, and the courage to achieve them. They are BOTH the wind beneath my wings, and the fact that they gave and continue to give so much to Cairo School District Number One gives me the strength to stand here before you today.

Oh, and one other thing is giving me strength this morning, too. That would be Dee Dee O’Shea’s chocolate sheet cake. Now, come on, Dee Dee, don’t act like you didn’t know I was going to mention it during this speech. During Julie’s passing, the only things that helped stop the pain were big hunks of Dee Dee’s made-from-scratch cake. That and a glass of milk made me believe I couldn’t give up on life if somewhere out there, fudge icing like this exists. Anyway, Ron had e-mailed Dee Dee to let her know I was coming home, and she promised to make me a cake while I’m here.

As it turns out, I bumped into Dee Dee Tuesday evening, at the Value Mart. Or as I call it, “The Grocery Store Formerly Known as Wonder Market.” Let it be known from this day forward that in my scattered, pre-menopausal brain, it will ALWAYS be called Wonder Market. Anyway, when I realized who the woman standing in front of me at the checkout line was, I had to give her a big hug. I suspected Dee Dee was there to buy some of the ingredients to make my cake, and the thought made me happier than I’ve been in a very long time.

We stood there laughing and talking while Dee Dee shared her well worn copy of the cake recipe with the woman who was helping bag groceries. That clerk was totally jealous that Dee Dee was making the ENTIRE cake for me. So out of the goodness of my heart I told her she could come by and get a piece of it. You can do things like that in Cairo…tell somebody who’d not necessarily a friend or a relative to stop by and pick up some cake, and you don’t have to worry that they’ll slit your throat when they leave.

While we were gabbing, the young man behind the register just laughed and shook his head at these crazy ladies carrying on about a cake recipe. Another young cashier joined in the fun, and I just felt like it was old home week. When I got home, I just had to share the experience with Ron. I told him that no matter how far I travel and how many people I meet in my life, I will ALWAYS feel like a girl from Cairo, Illinois, and I will always feel like this is home. I will always feel like “one of the Joneses,” even though with 10 of us, nobody could ever remember which one. And I will always be nurtured by the sense of belonging, of recognition and small town tranquility that I feel whenever I’m here.

But here is something that I find very strange. When I say I have these warm, sentimental feelings about Cairo, I also have to confess that at the same time, coming home almost tears my heart out. I don’t see how anyone who knew Cairo 50 years, or 40 years, or even 30 years ago could argue that the current condition of this town is absolutely devastating. Driving down 8th Street is like driving through an abandoned movie set from the 1950’s. A trip down Commercial Avenue is like waking up after a nuclear bomb and having to pick your way through the rubble. Now, you can say I’m exaggerating, but I’m here to tell you that the condition of my hometown makes me so sad I could cry.

Even though I haven’t lived here for 20 or so years, I am as much responsible for how things have turned out as anybody else. You see, when my parents and Julie and Ron were urging me to get my education so I could leave Cairo and make a better life for myself, I don’t think they were necessarily suggesting I should abandon it completely. Sometimes it feels like I have. I mean, if I can go spend 8 months helping African journalists in a Northern Ugandan war zone, why can’t I come back and spend 8 months in Cairo? I’m assuming one of the reasons I was asked to give this speech is because I’m considered a “role model” of sorts, a “home girl made good.” And yet what have I done to be a role model to the children and teenagers of Cairo?

But here’s the thing. I refuse to be too hard on myself about this, and I’m going to tell you why. You see, I saw an opportunity to make my life better, to travel to distant countries, to try and make a difference in the world, and I took it. Most of my 8 older brothers and sisters HAD gone on to college, so I had proof that it was possible, if I studied hard and made good grades, and made a plan for my future. I knew I had to take advantage of every opportunity that came along, and that I didn’t have a minute to waste.

But what is so very tragic to me, every time I come back to Cairo, is the abundance of squandered opportunities I see everywhere I look. My heart tells me Cairo could have been so much more than what it has become.

Now, I know the good people of the Paul Simon Policy Institute asked me to come and give this speech as an inspiration to the students of Cairo, to help them realize that it IS possible to go out into the world and achieve your dreams, to travel to world like I have. I hope that by the end of the speech, at least one of you will hear something in these words that makes you vow to follow my example…and to BE an example for some other kid from Cairo.

But it would be dishonest and misleading for me to come back to a hometown that breaks my heart and stand on this stage to be a cheerleader for a half hour or so, and then head back to Washington, DC on Sunday and go on with my life. The young people of Cairo are NOT stupid; they can see the troubled legacy we have left for them, and they will not be influenced by a few upbeat words from some stranger they may never see again, just because she was born here 46 years ago.

What WOULD inspire the young people of Cairo would be jobs, and businesses, and seeing city leaders work together to provide a stable supportive future for them and their families. Some proof that the people of Cairo are proud of their history, some acknowledgement that we went through some really bad times, but we learned from them and want to leave something more behind than empty buildings…..THAT would inspire the young people of Cairo more than I EVER could. So I’ll do what I’m expected to do here today. I’ll use this opportunity to challenge the young people of Cairo to reach their dreams, but as the young folks themselves often say, I will also “keep it real up in here."

In fact, I think it’s an interesting time in to be discussing the concept of “opportunity,” because America is in the middle of an historic election campaign. No matter whether you’re a Republican or a Democrat, there is an ENORMOUS opportunity for change in America this November. Realistically, that change could make things somewhat better than they are now, which would be a relief for all of us every time we pull into a gas station. Or as history has taught us, it could make our lives much worse. But I have to tell you, I never expected to be alive when a black man and a woman of ANY color would be competing to be President of the United States. The fact that either one of them actually has a chance to win the job, no matter how small that chance might be, is absolutely remarkable. I hope the students in this audience understand just how much the world is changing, and what they need to do to be a part of that change.

I think many Americans see the possibilities involved in this campaign, the opportunity for us to become better than what we were by voting for something different than the same old same old. One of the most wonderful results of this election is that more and more young people like the ones sitting in this audience today are starting to get more involved in the political process. I have read stories where young black men in cities across the country are being greatly inspired by Barack Obama, and are voting for the first time in their lives. I have read stories where young white people feel like they can use their vote to show the world that legacy of racism is dying out.

I think many Americans in general are seeing their vote as an opportunity to acknowledge what we did wrong in our history, when it comes to things like race and gender, and to vow to start doing things right. When I mentioned earlier that I would always feel like a girl from Cairo, Illinois, I only gave you the GOOD reasons for that feeling. Now here’s some of the flip side; Cairo, Illinois has left a permanent scar on my heart. Growing up under American Apartheid changed me. Being called racist names when I was just a little girl changed me. Being afraid that the White Hats would ride through the neighborhood and set our house on fire changed me. Being chased from stores down on Commercial Avenue changed me.

I have eaten in some of the most famous restaurants in the world, and yet the fact that I was never able to set foot in Harper’s or Mack’s when I was growing up had an effect on me, people. I know many Americans are tired of dealing with discussions about race, and wish black people would just shut up and move on, but I can’t get rid of that scar on my heart, no matter how much success I might achieve. I don’t walk around blaming every white American for it. I also don’t use it as an excuse to NOT achieve my goals, but I have to live with it every day of my life.

Cairo did THAT to me, too. So when I got the opportunity to leave back in 1979, I grabbed it with both hands. And I turned the pain and rejection of Cairo’s racial legacy into fuel to keep myself achieving. Maybe you can say I have been constantly trying to prove that the cashiers at Elias Department Store who used to drop the change into my little hand like they were afraid to touch me were wrong, and that I was just as much a human being as they were.

But let’s get back to this word opportunity for a minute. I think that’s most of what’s so heartbreaking about Cairo’s past. I believe that during all the racial turmoil, there was a profound opportunity to just stop the madness and say, “Look, I may not like the color of your skin, and I may not want you living next to me, but that doesn’t mean I will allow the heart and soul of my town to die a slow, strangled death.” I have always believed there was an opportunity to share resources in Cairo. But the Powers That Be decided they’d rather see the last light go out here before they let that happen.

In fact, for a very long time, I’ve considered Cairo to be a case study for what could happen in America if we keep refusing to learn our lessons about race matters. So when I was asked to attend this forum, I wanted to come and see if maybe Cairo was ready to truly process all that had happened, to own it and examine it, turn it over and upside down, declare it, and then say, “Okay, let’s roll up our sleeves and turn this town around, before the last light DOES go out. Let’s set an example for the young people of Cairo, to let them know that we DO care about their future and want to leave something positive behind for them.”

After all, without declaring my endorsement of any candidate, I wholeheartedly agree with Barack Obama when he insists that the racism that poisoned American life for so long HAS lessened. In spite of many challenges that still exist, Black Americans simply can’t deny that things have changed in this country. We cannot say that the same kind of hatred and oppression that occurred 40 years ago exists today. It’s just not true. I can say that, because I am a black woman who grew up in the racial turmoil of Cairo, and my sister was married to a white man for 34 years and their house never got firebombed.

I can say that because on Tuesday evening, I was standing in line at the Wonder Market hugging my brother-in-law’s next door neighbor, who is white, because she was getting ready to make a cake to welcome me home. I was standing there while a young black man worked behind the cash register….a young black man with braids in his hair. 40 years ago, black people were barely allowed to come into the store to buy food….there’s no way one of us would be working there up front.

CAIRO HAS CHANGED. But here’s another way Cairo keeps changing: every time I come back here, there’s another empty lot, one less business, fewer jobs, less people living here. Why can’t we make change in a way that restores life and meaning and pride to Cairo? What will it take?

It will take providing opportunities for our young people to flourish, go to college and make meaningful lives. It will take good reasons for some of those young people to come BACK to Cairo and help keep things going. And yes, it will take MY energy and commitment, and the energy and commitment of every parent and teacher and police officer and librarian and city clerk.

And to the young people of Cairo, It will take YOUR effort. It will require you to take yourselves and your lives seriously. It will require you to stop acting a fool and hit the books. You should know that I hear all the stories about what goes on in school up in here. I hear about y’all doing stuff that would have not only gotten ME permanently expelled from Cairo High School, my mother would have killed me on the spot when she found out about it. Eloise Jones knew that education was not a game you could take or leave. She demanded the very best from her children. I’m demanding the very best from you today.

That will require you to stay away from drugs, and keep your legs closed, and make good grades, and to start having a vision for your future AFTER high school. It will require you to start seeing yourself as more than a rapper or a video ‘ho, or a 16 year old mother. (I TOLD y’all I was gon’ keep it real, okay?) And it will require you to believe that even though you may be from Cairo, you are a citizen of the world, and you have an obligation to go out into the world and leave your mark.

As I said earlier, I tried to do that last year in Uganda. Uganda is a country in East Africa, right next to Kenya. If any of you follow the news closely, you know there was a lot of rioting and violence in Kenya earlier this year, because people thought the government leaders had cheated during the election. It was very scary for me to be watching the news about what was going on in the country right next door to Uganda. But I believe I had something to offer the journalists of Uganda. I believed I could use my experience here as a reporter in America to help them become better reporters.

Now, I’d like to ask each of you to try to picture your lives when you’re 30 years old. I don’t care if you see yourself as a teacher, or soldier, or a business owner, or a politician, or an athlete. I don’t care if you think being 30 years old sounds like you’ll be ready for the nursing home. If you’ve never thought of who you will be at age 30, I want you to take the time to try and think of that right now.

As the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King said, if you see yourself as a street sweeper, you should see yourself as the best street sweeper who ever lived. You should do your job with dignity and pride, and you should take it seriously. You should feel like you are making a contribution to your neighborhood, community, state, country, whatever. You should even feel that because you are living a productive life, and taking care of yourself, and your family, you are making a contribution to a better world.

If some of you are sitting there right now, and you are finding it impossible to imagine yourself at age 30, then I believe the leaders of Cairo, and the parents of Cairo, and anybody who ever cared a lick about Cairo, have some serious work to do. Somehow, while we let the buildings collapse, we forgot to build up the dreams of our children. I grew up poor as a church mouse, but I don’t think there was ever a minute when I didn’t believe I could do exactly what I’m doing now. It takes more than money to build a better future. It takes the ability to dream of a better future.

I’m constantly thinking about my future, and today I realize that in some way, part of it must involve making a difference in Cairo. You see, I’ve only been here two full days so far, and yet I have felt more peace and comfort here than I have in a long time. That is mostly because I feel comforted by my sister Julie’s spirit. And I’m also very grateful to see that my brother-in-law Ron is doing so well. But I also realize I need to do more for Cairo because once again, I’ve been able to use the talent God gave me and the common sense and my ability to set goals for myself to lead me to another corner of the world.

So, one way or the other, you’ll see me back here soon. And I hope I’ll be working with some of you students sitting in this audience today. But only if you’re as serious about making a difference in the world, and about helping save our hometown, as I am.