Anniversaries and Birthdays

Yesterday was the 250th anniversary of Paul Revere’s ride.

In 1774 and 1775, the Boston Committee of Correspondence and the Massachusetts Committee of Safety employed Paul Revere as an express rider to carry news, messages, and copies of important documents as far away as New York and Philadelphia.

On the evening of April 18, 1775, Dr. Joseph Warren summoned Paul Revere and gave him the task of riding to Lexington, Massachusetts, with the news that British soldiers stationed in Boston were about to march into the countryside northwest of the town.  (source) 

250 years ago today was the first major military campaign of the Revolution—the Battles of Lexington and Concord.

I’m only now learning that slavery was still legal in Massachusetts back then. In fact, it wasn’t until 1783—the same year the Revolutionary War officially ended and the Treaty of Paris was signed—that slavery was abolished here.

Two people you should know about—Elizabeth Freeman (AKA Mum Bett) and Quock Walker. They sued for their freedom in 1781, arguing their enslavement was incompatible with the Massachusetts Constitution which stated "All men are born free and equal.” Massachusetts was the first U.S. state to kick slavery, if not disgusting racism and injustice, to the curb.

It’s significant that at the dawn of our nation’s founding, these two individuals relied on the legal system to achieve freedom. We all recognize that far too often what is “legal” is not in fact “just” or “justice.” But their stories are a reminder that — at its best — the legal system can, and must, be a tool for justice and equality. It is also a reminder that lasting social change starts with courageous individuals and communities who stand up against injustice. (source)

That was then. 250 years later we have on-the-take, prejudiced-as-all-hell fuckers like Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito, Aileen Cannon, Bruce Schroeder, Les Hayes, and so many more. Is justice even possible any more?

When my family moved from Providence, Rhode Island to Townsend, Massachusetts, we landed in my favorite childhood home. I had my own room (what luxury!). We were across from a beautiful cemetery where I could take long walks and ice skate. I remember Daddy showing me a hidden cubby. He explained that our house had been a safe-house along the Underground Railroad. I learned actual, fer reals history from my father—he inspired me to read more, to learn facts versus fairy tales.

Today would have been his 89th birthday. He died four years ago on Juneteenth.

Daddy and me—I was 21; he was 44.