“Eternal Flame!”

Oprah once said, “How dare I be tired doing what I’m doing knowing the trials and tribulations of my ancestors who had to work from dawn ‘til dusk. They had a right to be tired. I don’t.”

So, in spite of my daughter’s medical emergency which should have forestalled my commitment and departure, God erased my motherly concern regarding Mantha’s health and welfare by ensuring that her illness was stabilized so that I could embark on this compelling trip.

Also, think God instinctively knew that I was growing worn and weary from fighting on behalf of innumerous injustices so He wanted to rattle my weary bones once again by reminding me, during this trip, that my services were still very much needed on the activism forefront.

In other words, “God is not through with me yet.”

Then, God must have looked into His rolodex and concluded that He needed me to become introduced to an inspirational icon. In His infinite wisdom, God knew that once I had become acquainted with this martyr, I would resolve any misgivings about being so tired. Figured, He knew that during this trip I would be instantly awash with rejuvenated energies. With a revived countenance, He knew that I would renew my urgency to walk some additional “human rights” miles.

Finally, God was already privy to the untapped reservoir of raw material still left in my revolutionary veins that needed to be utilized once more before He would allow me to hang up my “Angela Davis” shoes.

Meanwhile….

Found myself leaving Florida and zigzagging on unfamiliar dark and desolate country roads in Georgia. Passed hundreds of miles of fertile cotton fields and acres of rich farmland where for centuries enslaved blacks toiled like mules without a compensatory reward, an ounce of respect, or even an earned respite.

Nope, Andrea! Your legendary “voice box” hasn’t earned the right to be tired just yet.

A week earlier….

Glanced at a flyer that, for some strange and unknown reason, had beckoned my immediate attention. Upon scanning it, also became intrigued.

Within seconds, politely placed the flyer back on the rack and then began to mechanically walk away without giving its contents any further serious consideration or deliberation.

Or, so I thought…

Curiously, upon my third or maybe fourth step, felt my body inexplicably being encased by a “spiritual phenomenon” which prevented me from moving any further. Unexplainably, felt that I was being commandeered and commanded to return to the display rack in order to retrieve and thoroughly digest, in depth, the flyer once more.

So, like an obedient child, acquiesced and obeyed this overpowering sensation.

However, within minutes, noticed that outwardly my cool persona and inwardly my congenial spirit was slowly beginning to become a volcanic tour de force whirlwind that was poised to explode.

Why?

That flyer had poignantly revealed that the late Isaiah Nixon, who was a black Army veteran, was unmercifully slaughtered by a volley of bullets while standing on his front porch. Tragically, witnessing his murder at the hands of two white men were his six darling children and his lovely, devoted wife.

The offense….

Mr. Nixon had the unmitigated gall to ignore bigots by usurping prejudicial customs, practices, and traditions. Fearlessly, he exercised his constitutional right by VOTING in Georgia’s 1948 democratic primary election and paid the “ultimate sacrifice” by losing his life, not on the enemy’s territory, but on American soil!

Sickening!

Further, insults to injury, similarly to the George Zimmerman verdict, the white assassins were acquitted!

Unbelievable!

After learning that black historical fact, it was not a surprise to me that my hostility, sadness, and anger ricocheted throughout my body like a thunder bolt. And, it was not a surprise to me that my rebellious revolutionary chord struck every indignant nerve within my soul, too!

Nevertheless, immediately decided to travel to Georgia so that I could, not only learn additional information about the heroism of Mr. Nixon, but I wanted to also have an opportunity to proudly participate in the commemorative service that was being held in his honor, as well.

Thus, on Sunday, November 10, 2013, God ushered in a majestic day as the pews at the First African Baptist Church in Mt. Vernon, Georgia accommodated hundreds of family members, friends, Civil Rights icons, dignitaries, members from distinguished civic and church organizations, as well as, other visitors who had travelled far and wide, to pay a solemn homage to the heroic deed and noteworthy memory of Mr. Isaiah Nixon.

My dear readers, there was not a single “dry eye” during this entire service. Then the audience collectively openly wept when we were introduced to Mr. Nixon’s regal 90-year old widow, his three remaining living children, his grandson, as well as, other extended family members.

Mercy!

In addition to this service, it is worth noting that the family also received a “cement bench and a magnolia bush which were placed on the Nixon family plot.”

Hallelujah!

Upon my departure, began to synthesize my thoughts….

Sixty-five years after Mr. Nixon’s death, why are the 1%’ers still using every unscrupulous means to derail the voting rights of black and brown folks?

Sixty-five years after Mr. Nixon’s death, why are the 1%’ers ruthlessly suppressing the voting rights of black and brown voters without legal repercussions, impunity, and consequences?

Sixty-five years after Mr. Nixon’s death, why are the 99%’ers not fully engaged in the democratic process especially since evidence has shown that hundreds of people have lost their lives, limbs, and liberty so that they can freely cast a vote?

Sixty-five years after Mr. Nixon’s death, why is America still grappling with unfairness and inequity issues at the voting booths?

Sixty-five years after Mr. Nixon’s death, why can’t black and brown folks freely vote like white folks without harassment, reprisals, intimidation, or even our deaths?

God, are you there? Are you listening to our cries? Do you care about our pleas? When is enough, enough? And, when do you plan to intercede on our behalf before another Isaiah Nixon is unjustifiably obliterated?

Anyway….

Upon further examination, perhaps on that fateful day when I read the flyer advertising Nixon’s service, he had recognized that during my 40 years of being an eligible voter, I have NEVER missed an opportunity to cast a vote.

Maybe noting my significant voting record and achievement, Mr. Nixon wanted to pass his “eternal flame” to me so that I can be constantly reminded that I needed to continue championing, on his behalf, the rights for black and brown people to be able to freely vote and complaining about being tired is inexcusable!

Paraphrasing Oprah, “How dare I get tired doing what I’m doing knowing the trials and tribulations of Mr. Isaiah Nixon because, children, I got to keep his “eternal flame” from being extinguished, forevermore!”