Ed Campbell says:

Old fart that I am, I started at this a long, long time ago, John. It was the spring of 1959 when three Black friends of mine loaded me — the token white guy — into a Volkswagen bus already full of college students. We hauled out before dawn to drive South just past the DC area. We had two goals: [1] see if we could buy Cokes for all of us in a drugstore in some small town — and [2] start helping local folks register Black people to vote.

We were lucky. None of us got beat up or shot. Some other weren’t so lucky. But, John — the four of us eventually got out of the factories we worked in in that delightful Southern New England mill town. We went different ways over the years. All of us still in one or another part of what we used to call “the Movement” most of our lives.

It’s important to remember what had to be done to get us this far. It’s important to remember there still are plenty of creepy bastards out there who would like to put a pillow case over their heads some night and turn back time. Guarding the right to vote is as important as assuring the right to speak.

Like the song says, “Sad; but, true!”