Paying Respects: My Journey to the casket of Mother Rosa Parks

As stated in a previous post, Sunday was a long day for me, but when my mother-in-love said, “Why don’t we go to DC to “see” Rosa Parks?”; that’s all I needed.

After I preached at the United Methodist Church and attended a fellowship back at my home church, we got in the car and made our way to Washington, DC. We got to the National Mall at about 6pm. The line was so long we couldn’t find the end. The police officers weren’t very helpful – each one was giving different instructions as to how to get into the line. So, my family and I just jumped into line…we “butted” in line to see Rosa Parks. ( I do say that ashamedly) The line moved pretty good, but it was so long that we knew it was going to be a while before we got inside the building. I prepared myself mentally to be in that line for a week if necessary. The crowd was so diverse. Black, White, Seniors, Children, Men & Women. Everyone was talking:

“I remember back in North Carolina..I was about nine years old when I saw the star of the highschool football team (who was Black) lynched because the cheerleading squad captain (who was White) said that she was going to marry him.”

And singing:

“Ain’t going to let nobody turn me around turn me around turn me around. Ain’t going to let nobody turn me around – I’m going to keep on walking” (slowly fading out as the line moved by)

It got darker and of course colder. My little brother, who initially didn’t want to come, didn’t bring a jacket. My wife brought a shawl and shared it repeatedly with family members who needed to warm up. I tried not to think about the line. I was quiet…trying to conserve energy and keep warm by keeping my mouth shut. My grandparents, aunt, and uncle were in the line as well. They got to DC a little after we did. I knew they were back there somewhere and we touched base my cell phone from time to time. It was really dark now. The view of humans as far as the eye could see turned into a blanket of shadows…and voices. The smell of horse manure was in the air as DC police trotted by on massive thoroughbreds. The word got through the line that Mother Rosa’s casket wasn’t even at the Rotunda yet. We were marching to were we expected her to be.

Then at about 8pm a flash of excitement. A police motorcade complete with motorcycles filled the air with the sound of a thousand drums. Mother Rosa had arrived from Thurgood Marshall Airport. Flashing lights – raised voices. “There’s the bus!” someone said. The statement needed no clarification. The bus that Mother Rosa rode was rolling down the street as if in a one vehicle parade. I needed no prompting. Though 100 yards away from the street and a good view of the bus; I took off leaving my family to get a picture – to get proof. I ran like I was doing suicide drills in basketball or sprints in full gear during Two-a-day football practices. I had to get this shot. The bus was slowly passing. I took my camera out while still in full sprint and put it up in the air. I’m running and taking pictures…trying to keep my upper body fairly still while pumping my knees. I got a few pics.
Mine weren’t too good though. I saw a guy looking at his pictures on his digital camera. “Did you get a good one, Bruh?” “yea – see?” “Oh yea, that’s nice. I was trying to get some myself. Do you mind emailing that to me?” “No, not at all.” I took some shots myself and I received even better shots from this kind brother.

I went back to my place in line 100 yards back, rejoined my family and continued to march – one step at a time. My feet weren’t too bad, but my legs and shins were throbbing. Mind over matter – I will make it. In an interesting way, I began to conclude that if Mother Rosa could sacrifice as much as she did, who am I to complain about waiting in line with no one attacking me or threatening arrest? I shut my mouth, ignored my body and kept on walking.

It’s 11pm now. We’ve made it to the 2nd winding maze of a line with the straight away in sight. Porta-pots were lined up not to far from us and the family (along with many others) took off to relieve themselves only to return with nightmarish stories of smells and sights too disgusting to mention.

We’re almost there now. We’ve hit the straight away. Word travels back to us in line that we won’t be able to use our cameras once inside. What?? My mind began to race – strategizing on how I’m going to break this rule and get me some pictures. My sister-in-law has a cell phone with camera. Ok. That’s the plan.

We keep on walking and now it’s 12 midnight. “You know they’re closing this at 1am?” someone said. With literally thousands of people behind us in line I knew this might mean trouble. My grandparents and aunt and uncle were back there too. I made the call to Uncle Melvin and give him the scoop. After the call I check with an officer and he says they’ll stay open as long as there are people. Nix that Uncle Melvin.

Finally at 1:30am we make it inside the facility and work our way through security. The whole time I’m waiting for them to take my camera. Nothing. “They must be working on the honor code then” I thought. We’re through security and in the building. A boyish looking police officer says to me, “Can you please remove your hat, sir?” “WHAT?!” “You’ve got your hat on!”I thought, but I caught myself. “uh..ok” I said. At 1 in the morning after 7 hours of waiting outside in the cold, I don’t take orders too well especially on the same grounds where the Millions More Movement was held 3 weeks before….my nationalistic, FIGHT THE POWER, spirit was still pulsing in my spirit man.

My family is inside the sacred room where Mother Rosa’s earthly remains were kept. A honorable hush seized the crowd. This was it. We look to the center of the room to see a small, wooden box. I was a amazed. Maybe subconsciously I had envisioned Mother Rosa to be as tall or as big as her impression on the world, yet there in that tiny wooden box lay the remains of one of Earth’s greatest champions. Thank you Mother Rosa Parks. Enjoy your rest and I’ll see you soon.

Gas to get to DC = $20.00
7 hours of standing/3 hours of sleep = exhausted body
Paying respects to Mother Rosa Parks = priceless