Last week my daughter came home one day and told me about a king. She said she learned all about a king named Arthur who lived a long time ago.
“Oh, like in the Sword and the Stone?” I asked her.
She gave me a blank look.
“Was he a little boy who grew up to be a king?” I continued.
“No,” she replied.
“Did you learn about a magician named Merlin?”
“Merlin?” This sounded interesting to her, but not familiar.
“He lived a long time ago. He was really nice to people. There was a place where white people couldn’t drink from the same water fountain as black people, and they couldn’t go to playgrounds together. They couldn’t do anything together.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. Martha, I thought. She means Martha. When my son was in first grade he came home and told us all about Martha Luther King. Same time of year.
“Can we go to where he gave his big speech? In front of a lot of people?”
“You mean Washington? We went there when you were a baby. We can go there again some time.”
Happy Martin Luther King Day.