The Beloved Community

"Life's most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?"

Martin Luther King Jr's words were never hollow. He walked his talk. He put his life behind his preaching.

With those words of Dr. King, this week we will culminate what has been a wonderful season. We attempted to do some big things, and with your help, your great attitudes, your financial investment, we have been able to accomplish them.

Our theme this season was "Competition and Community". As I wrote in a newsletter a couple months ago, the two at face value seem mutually exclusive ... opposites. If they are, that's fine, but like so many things in life, opposites can sometimes attract and complement each other.

With this paradoxical theme as a guide, we tried to bring the teaching and legacy of Martin Luther King, JR to bear on our season. We talked often about the things he said and did, the way he lived his life, the way he changed our country. We had the huge privilege of traveling to a part of America where he lived and worked and affected lives. To walk on the sidewalks and in the parks where he took on the system of racial injustice with little more than "soul force" was incredibly moving. It was a powerful experience for all of us, one that we won't ever forget.

King's goal of creating a "Beloved Community" was his purpose. That concept was based on an ancient greek word for love, called "agape." Agape love, King explained was “overflowing love which is purely spontaneous, unmotivated, groundless and creative”… "the love of God operating in the human heart.” He said that “Agape does not begin by discriminating between worthy and unworthy people…It begins by loving others for their sakes” and “makes no distinction between a friend and enemy; it is directed toward both…Agape is love seeking to preserve and create community.” http://www.thekingcenter.org/prog/bc/

This Saturday we will have an opportunity to "show love for others for their sakes" to help create a "beloved community" in a simply act of love for other people, people we have never met. Our run-a-thon will raise money to help an organization dig drinking water wells for folks in Africa that can't afford to do it on their own. We're calling it our "Digging Deep" project, we're calling on each of us to "dig deep" into our own reservoirs of conscience and ability to do what we can to help. Saturday morning we will also be collecting used running shoes to donate to the homeless of Riverside.

I encourage each of you to do your part.

An Angel In The Park

Kelly Ingram Park is in the heart of downtown Birmingham and was ground zero for the Civil Rights clashes of 1963. A small square block in size, it’s a quiet place today, sitting amid skyscrapers and office buildings. Trees, young and old, poke through the grass, green and brown. The park is not in great shape, its tattered edges speak of a long history torn and stitched by alternating times of neglect and care. Kitty-corner from the park stands the majestic 16th Street Baptist church, clad in brown brick. A couple-dozen concrete steps lead up to it’s front doors.



When we got out of the vans, church bells echoed off the walls of buildings. It was Sunday morning after all. The streets were silent, few cars and even fewer people could be seen. Birmingham was sleeping.

We purposed a visit to Kelley Ingram to finish out our tour of Alabama’s civil rights landmarks. It was in this park and specifically at the Baptist church on the corner that all was not quiet in September, 1963. This was the flashpoint of a clash that echoed even in the silence of this morning.

Perhaps the same church bells were ringing 45 years ago when the bomb blast cancelled them out. Three men of the KKK threw a stick of dynamite at the corner of the 16th Street Baptist church, killing four girls in their Sunday best, getting ready for Sunday school. The clock froze at 10:22 AM, the face of Jesus was blasted out of a stained glass window. Birds scattered in fright. Sirens wailed. People screamed. Mothers cried. It was noisy that day.

But not today. Today was quiet. The church has long since been repaired. Christians began climbing the steps for worship. Across the street, we walked through the shaded lanes of Kelley Ingram, pausing at the bronze memorials scattered throughout, each one erected to tell a muzzled story of an ugly time.



We were ready to leave, having seen all that we could see when a man on a bicycle approached us. He said his name was Juan. He was a veteran of Vietnam, homeless too -- a personal consequence, he told us, for abandoning King’s dream and listening to the victim theology of Malcolm X. He said he had been at Kelley Ingram back in ’63. He was sixteen then.

With an understated eloquence and a mastery of the details only one who had been there could relate, Juan proceeded to tell his story. With the church on one side and the historic park behind him, this unexpected visitor told of the horror that took place there during May of ’63 when Bull Connor’s fire department trained their hoses on demonstrators, “spraying folks off their feet and off the sidewalk, like leaves down a driveway.” He spoke of German shepherds, being told by the cops to attack the kids. There was pride in his voice when he gave the number of kids arrested that day, (600) and how they overflowed the city and county jails like rivers of injustice. His voice lifted when he described “jumping out of the school house windows across town on word that Dr. King was in town.”

Many of those who were battered there in Kelly Ingram were kids. 14 year olds. Like the 14 year old freshmen athletes from King High who listened to his tales with intention and attention beneath the shade of a tree. Juan’s weathered voice didn’t carry well despite the calm of the city; kids and parents leaned forward on his words.

“I thought you were joking when y’ll said you were from Martin Luther King High School. I looked at this group of kids and thought … hmmm, they’re from a school called Martin Luther King…?” We got a good laugh. Mr. Brooks stated the obvious, “Our country has come a long way.” Indeed it has.

We got Juan’s name on a handshake at the end of his talk. We hadn’t planned this … this collision of time and place at the intersection of Love and hate in Birmingham. Juan was like an angel sent to make the past immediately personal and present in our weekend story of struggle and triumph told mainly by those who had only heard of those times. Juan had lived it. He was there then, and he was there today. Arriving on his bicycle, 20 minutes later he had pedaled away, lost in the shadows of the trees and buildings that cover the bronze memorials that stand quietly telling a story that an angel named Juan has not forgotten.

I have to believe, neither will we.

Remember the Children

If you're an early riser and reading this, I'll post just a bit on what's on the agenda for today.

After a fun night last night at the Harrier Ball, we got back to the hotel a little past 11:00 PM, and everyone crashed. A chance to sleep in this morning was a welcome respite from the hurried pace we've been keeping. Yesterday was a fun day, but it was long.

So today we'll leave around 10:30 and take the short drive to downtown Birmingham for a visit to the 16th Street Baptist Church, which was the site in September 1963 of a horrific KKK bombing of the building on a Sunday morning. Four little girls, three of whom shared the age of our freshmen on the trip, were killed in the blast.

Across the street from the church is Kelly Ingram Park. It was in this park that Bull Conner, the racist "Public Safety Commissioner" brought out the German Shepperds, the fire department with their hoses, the police with their billy clubs and gave orders to clear the park in any way possible. He arrested over 600 children in May of 1963, many of them teens, as King's strategy was to fill the jails with blacks who didn't have jobs to hold and mortgages to pay. The park now has a series of bronze statues placed throughout the park to commemorate those ugly times.

Following lunch, we'll make a stop at the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, which from everything we've read and heard is an incredible place.

Then it's to the airport, and off for home.

A Great American Meet

We last ran in a Great American Cross Country Festival back in 2000 when they had a traveling road show and moved their East Coast venue to San Francisco's Golden Gate Park for one season. We liked what we experienced then, and treasured the memories.

Today we opened up that treasure chest and dumped a new set of golden moments and memories, as the Festival once again pulled out all the stops to host what is just simply, a great meet.

King's Kids ran well ... it wasn't our best day, but we had enough good races and quality efforts to call it a good day. The weather warmed a bit by mid-day, making the JV races a bit warmer than the varsity races were in mid-morning. The girls varsity finished 8th of 16 teams in the Nike Race of Champions, against a field that was being called "the finest field assembled in the nation this season." When the winner crossed the line in a time of 17:06 for a full 5K, beating the reigning Footlocker National Champion by over 200 meters, you knew the proclamation wasn't an exagerration. There were 7 teams in the race that were their respective divisional and State champions. To say the race was "big" would be an udnerstatement.

The JV girls had the highest finish of the day, 2nd, and brought home a plaque made of wood and carved and finished in the shape of the United States -- a very nice award. The JV boys finished 6th overall.

We're off in a couple of hours to the Harrier Ball for dinner and dancing and fun.

"Been to the Mountaintop"

Just before his death in 1968, Martin Luther King preached what would be a prophetic sermon. As he reflected on the years of civil rights movement, he had come to realize that he had "been to the mountaintop" and that he "had seen the promised land." Sadly, prophetically, he then proclaimed that he "may not get there with you..."

One day later he was dead.

We walked today in the places he once walked. We sat in the pews of the church he preached in. We were in the very room in which he called for the formation of a city wide bus boycott in Montgomery, a civil disobedience that would help to change the civic behavior of the nation. We stood for a photo on the front steps of his church, one block from the Alabama State Capitol on whose steps Jefferson Davis took the oath of office as President of the Confederate States of America in 1861.

This was one day of living!

32 kids from a suburban high school in California came face to face with the man whose name is that school. 3000 miles away from the familiarity of Martin Luther King High, we found ourselves introduced to the Martin Luther King of history. Today we found that his was not just a name painted on stucco and printed on letterhead. His was a name that is carved into the conscience of our nation. From the humblest of beginnings, he mustered his courage, gathered himself and took a place on the starting line of what would become one of the greatest races ever contested on American soil. With the sweat of conviction, the heart of compassion, the power of love, and the focus of a warrior, he won the race.

And we were there today, at the starting line. It felt like a mountain top.

What an amazing experience it was! Our cross country kids were ambassadors of a school from across the country ... and they nailed it! Attentive, respectful, inquisitive and responsive, they listened and learned through an amazing multi-media presentation at the Rosa Parks Institute and Museum. From there we loaded the vans and made the short drive to King's church.


Dexter Avenue is only a few blocks away. On the way up the broad avenue, our kids looked out the windows of the van as we passed a large fountain at one end of the street, a marker of where they once auctioned black slaves. Quickly coming into view at the other end is that gleaming capitol building, a marker of secession; it's white dome towers. Bookends of hatred and injustice.

But there in the middle of the two stands a Baptist church, it's skin is colored red, it's name shares it's street address. It seems inconspicuous at first, as most churches seemingly do. It appears humble and non-descript. But as we walked in those doors, we heard the story of a preacher man who roared the gospel of Love, courage, forgiveness, redemption and justice. His was the ultimate tough love story; of good overcoming evil with good. Those worn pews and walls whispered the aged truths of the Bible: "Love your enemy" "do good to those who persecute you" and "turn the other cheek". Like the best book on the shelf, Dexter Baptist stands between black and white, its red-colored cover begging to be opened and read. It stands: Bookends not necessary.


We lingered. We listened. We learned .... we, King High.

Practice Makes Perfect

My dad raised me on the motto: Practice makes perfect. Somewhat of a perfectionist himself, he drilled it into me, even when I didn't want it.

Well, we made our way to the course this morning for a little practice on the art of perfection. Wasn't hard. Perfect weather. Perfectly beautiful region of the country, and a perfect course for a national level cross country meet.

What a place we are in! Hoover, Alabama (just south of Birmingham) is a pristine community, nestled in forested hills, and their "Spain Park Sports Complex" is a state of the art, "how a park should be built" masterpiece. It has all the requisite playgrounds, eating areas, open fields and lakes, but purposefully built into the park, at the Mayor's request we were told, is a running trail that meanders through the park and into the adjacent woods. One full loop of the course is in the forest, parts so shaded that the sky has to work to get through. I jokingly apologized to the kids for bringing them so far from home to run in such a "horrid place." "Yea, coach" one replied, "we'd much rather be in the dirt and tree-less desert we call our home course!" We all had a laugh. This place is just amazingly beautiful -- that is if you're into tall trees, forest, no graffiti, no trash, clean air and two-lane roads noodling their way through the woods.

The weather continues to be perfect, our practice on the course went great, and we sense a true feeling of anticipation on the part of the kids to let the race be on!

Now it's on to Montgomery, about 90 minutes south of here, to visit the Rosa Parks institute and Martin Luther King's home church and parsonage.

Parents, your kids are behaving well and all smiles! Really!

Southern Hospitality

Our principal, Dan Brooks is along on the trip, and his sister happens to live here in Birmingham, has for 25 years, so she was kind enough to take us up to the Bluff Park Diner for dinner. It's really nothing more than a hole in the wall, perched atop a ridge with a pretty decent view of the lights below. Had we not had a friendly dose of Southern Hospitality, it may have been Denny's for us tonight. We got treated to a treat.

The 40-some-odd party from Riverside entered, while the dining patrons read the writing on the wall and exited. Best for all concerned as we filled the entire place.

Good ol' Southern cookin' was the fare, "meat and three" as they call it. Country fried steak, collared greens, green eyed peas, creamed corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, you name it, if it could stick to the lining of your arteries, they served it. But my, was it good! Only Patrick, who has little else than nachos and fritos in his daily diet complained; Carissa and Rebecca and Kelsi and Danielle sang out in unison, "This stuff is good!" By the laughter and empty plates that littered and clanged around the room, it seemed Patrick was greatly outnumbered.

Sweet Home Alabama!

We're here! And oh my, did we hit the jackpot on weather! It feels like Fall! 70 degrees, zero humidity, and just a hint of the fall colors in the trees. Beautiful!

The 3000 mile, 10 hour journey was as smooth as can be. We pulled out of the parking lot at school at 5:01 AM and were at Ontario by 6:00. The plane left on time, and gave us a smooth flight, save for the landing in Atlanta in which the descent brought some bumps and jumps and nervous oohs and ahs out of the teen section in the back of the 757. Clear skies, great weather, a quick layover and off to the forested Birmingham area. Our initial drive through brings one thought: This place is pretty!

We just got back from a run along a bike and runners path that cut through the forest along a creek which followed a road. Joggers and walkers abounded, and 32 teens and 4 coaches enjoyed a splendid five mile run thru the half-light of dusk, softly filtered through the elms and sycamores. Made one 42 year old coach very thankful to be alive.

It's off to dinner now, a diner on a bluff with "a view of the city" they tell us! Thanks parents for letting your kids be a part of this. One day in and not a frown in town!

Being Busy

I have to confess these past few weeks have been stressful ones. Planning our trip to Alabama, running a home meet, coordinating community service projects have all required a toll. Sometimes I question our sanity as we heap upon our plates more good food than we can possibly eat. Life, liberty and the pursuit of busyness seems to be the new American creed.

But being busy beats being bored. Boredome for me leads to trouble. When I'm bored, I find myself getting into jams as sticky as peanut butter. Busyness, though it can be stressful at times, can - if balanced with other busy pursuits - produce good things.

I'm excited about the closing month of our season. October will bring a long-planned and labored trip to Birmingham, Alabama. We'll race among the best this country has to offer and we'll see the sites that made our school's namesake, Martin Luther King, famous.

At the end of the month, we'll be busy collecting used shoes and money for the homeless in Riverside and the thirsty in Africa.

All good things. All things that take time and work to pull off. Are you busy doing good? Are you busy pursuing noble goals and achievements? I hope so. It's the only busy worth being.

I'd write more, but I've got things to do!