| on 31-01-2006 07:26
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Published in : , Misc |
Mrs. Coretta Scott King dies at 78.  credit: home.comcast.net
Several years ago I was on a plane escorting my grandfather from his home in Florida to my father's home in New York. I managed to get us first class tickets for two reasons: because I wanted to impress my grandfather with my conniving abilities and because he was old and hard to handle.
When I entered the plane, I was seated next to this attractive older woman. She radiated an inner light that only served to accentuate her outer beauty. And she smelled really good. When asked what she'd like to drink, she ordered an apple juice with lime on the rocks, and I ordered a double whisky on the rocks ... smiling to her, “Well ... it's free here in first class, may as well not let it go to waste.” She agreed.
I sat there sipping my complimentary libation as all the cattle class passengers filed in, every other one bowing to the lovely smelling lady sitting in the window seat next to me, and saying, “Hello Mrs. King," "A pleasure and an honor Mrs. King" ... etc.
 credit:www.nehceu.org
I wondered why everybody knew her and bowed to her like she was royalty, when, mid-thought, a small commotion occurred in front of us. A Hindi lady was trying to fold up her stroller and manage her two-year-old child. I got up and helped her and began to put the stroller in the first-class closet. The waitress in the sky came sprinting over, chastising me and the Hindi woman for trying to put a second-class stroller in the first class closet. “But there's no coats in there ...?” I pointed out to her.
“This is for First Class only.” She said it sternly. “I see that, but wouldn't be more practical for this lady to store her stroller near the front since ... ” “THIS is for FIRST CLASS coats ONLY,” She asserted with authoritative anger. I shrugged, realizing it was a lost cause arguing with this waitress in the sky. I turned to the beautiful lady that I was sitting next to and stated simply, “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 total 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 almost choked on my ice cube. She was on her way to greet Nelson Mandela upon his release from prison. We spoke for three hours straight on our way to New York. I told her of my dreams and intentions; she spoke of her past and her perceptions of what we have loosely deemed history. She told me to never give up and wrote me an autograph that said to “hold the torch of truth and light high above for everyone to see” ... I walked off that plane as if on a cloud–it was the most extreme natural high I have ever experienced. And from that moment on, I've managed to find the motivation and inspiration to do as she has advised me to do. But I sincerely feel, dear reader, that that advice which Mrs. King imparted to me ... was not for me alone, and that is why I am sharing this with you.
Carry on....Marika Instigator In Chief
 www.sptimes.com Coretta Scott King, first known as the wife of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., then as his widow, then as an avid proselytizer for his vision of racial peace and non-violent social change died Monday night, according to Andrew Young, the former United Nations ambassador who is an old friend of the King family. She was 78 and had been in failing health for years following a stroke. Mr. Young said in a phone call to NBC's "Today" show that Mrs. King died last night at her home in Atlanta. "I understand she was asleep last night and her daughter tried to wake her up," Mr. King said.
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