by Instigator in Chief

Several years ago I was on a plane escorting my grandfather from his home in Florida to his home in New York. I finagled us two seats in first class because I wanted to impress my grandfather who was old and hard to handle.

We boarded first and I found myself seated next to an attractive older woman who radiated an intense sense of serenity. She even smelled noticeably good. She ordered an apple juice with lime on the rocks. I ordered a double whisky on the rocks, smiling sheepishly at her, “Well, it’s free here in first class, might as well not let it go to waste.”

She agreed.

Realizing my uncouth comment, I sipped conservatively at my complimentary libation and watched the cattle class file in. Every other passenger tipped their head to the lovely lady seated next to me, saying, “Hello, Mrs. Kean”, “A pleasure and an honor Mrs. Kinh” ... etc.

I was wondering why everybody knew who she was and bowed to her like she was royalty until my thoughts were interrupted by a small commotion directly in front of us. A young Hindi mother was attempting to fold up her stroller and manage her toddler. I proceeded to help her, putting the stroller in the nearest closet. The flight attendant soon sprinted over, chastising us for trying to place a second class stroller into the 1st class storage.

“But it’s empty,” I pointed out to her. “No co-…”

“This,” she cut me off abruptly, “is for First Class only.” “I see that, but wouldn’t it be more practical for this lady to store her stroller near the front since ... ”

“THIS is for FIRST CLASS coats ONLY,” she reasserted angrily.

I shrugged, realizing it was pointless arguing -- this First Class cabin was clearly her domain. I turned to the angelic figure sitting next to me and said, “I don’t care how much you paid for your seat, who you are, or where you’re from, practicality is practicality, ya know?”   She nodded in agreement. “I completely see your point.” I extended my hand to her, “Hi, I’m Marika.”

She gracefully accepted my hand and modestly introduced herself, “My name is Coretta. Mrs. Coretta Scott King.”

I swallowed my ice cube whole, temporarily freezing my throat. My mind flooded with images of ‘50s Civil Rights marches from Life magazine and history books; ‘70s Equal Rights and Anti-Discrimination protests my mother paraded in with me strapped in a stroller, wheeling along side her; and Martin Luther King Jr. and how much he meant to me throughout my life. My older brother being a combination of Italian-Afro-American, we were constantly aware of the potential for prejudice.

And of how selfish I was to not give more of myself (for at the time I was busy being drug addled and artistically “tortured”). We sat conversing for three hours straight on our way to New York (the first leg of her long trip to greet Nelson Mandela upon his release from prison) as if we were the only people on the plane. She spoke with unbelievable honesty of her well documented past and her personal perceptions of what we have loosely deemed history. I was awestruck but coherent.

She asked me about my dreams and intentions. I mirrored her candor. It was as if we had known one another for years.

She whispered in my ear, “Never give up”, and handed me an autographed note, “Hold the torch of truth and light high above for everyone to see ...Coretta Scott King”

I walked off that plane as if on a cloud -- it was the most intoxicating natural high I have ever experienced. And from that moment on, I’ve managed to find the motivation and inspiration to do as she advised me to do. But I sincerely feel, dear reader, that the advice Mrs. King imparted to me ... was not for me alone, and that is why I am sharing this with you.

You see, the hero is inside us all, as well as the villain. Mrs. King was a brave woman with an inherently exceptional constitution for her circumstances. This is not a character trait handed out to the few; it is within many of us (dare I say ‘all’) only waiting to be nurtured or even noticed.

Don’t get me wrong -- it’s not easy, it’s not always noticed, it’s not instantly appreciated.

You can be a hero. You can make a difference. You can do something of significance -- even in the “little” things you do, everyday.

And, without a doubt, it will have effects that reach far beyond your realm of expectations.

Carry on....

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