We Shall Overcome

While at the Quaker Institute on Non-Violence on Rideau Lake in the summer of 1963, I learned about a march on Washington  DC led by the Rev. Martin Luther King. Next thing I knew, I had organized a carful of Canadians to join a multi-racial crowd over 200,000 strong, marching toward the Lincoln Memorial on the morning of 28 August 1963.

We started the march spontaneously, and earlier than the organizers had planned. By the time the first row of marchers had reached the monument, more were crowding behind them. Those at the front peeled back, in eddies through the oncoming demonstrators. I saw a State Trooper pass by like a leaf on a stream, helplessly and good-humouredly going with the flow. Eventually the river of humanity sorted itself out, and settled on the grass to wait, some with picnic lunches, all with water bottles. It was a scorching day.

Seeing me taking photos of the friendly crowd, a black teenager cheerfully offered to climb with my camera to the top of a small tree for a panoramic view of the historic scene. All day I saw people helping each other in loving ways. I saw a white man looking after a young black girl who felt sick. A black nurse spotted me nearly fainting with heat exhaustion, and took me to a temporary sick bay in a government building to lie down, drink water and rest.

Toward mid-afternoon the sun began to relent its heat, and a cool breeze fanned our foreheads. Great singers sang, at least those who could get through the throng. All movement stopped and all sound stilled when King took the podium, and his unforgettable voice sounded the refrain: “I have a dream.”

Now, 50 years later, we still have dreams, and popular movements like "Idle No  More" are on the move. New leaders are emerging. Perhaps the early years 2000 are the new nineteen-sixties.