Everything about Birmingham, Alabama was hilarious. I mean everything.
First off, I think we added 2 to the current population of 12 white people who reside there. All we did there was go to the civil rights museum, various craft breweries, and a great outdoor jazz festival. It was a real hoot.
We were among a lot of black families who were touring, some of which were old enough to have seen first hand the brutalities and horrible treatment from white people. Yet, its amazing how things evolve:
An old black woman and I were joking about old barber tools they used to use. A young black girl and I were talking about a part of the exhibit. There was the tremendous sense that change is possible, and it has for the large part happened; we were coexisting, laughing and joking. Wasn’t that what the whole civil rights were about?
|We got a picture with them afterwards|
|In front of the church that was bombed where 4 young black girls died.|
|The original route the protesters marched on|
It was a large city of very local stores, most of which were run down, some in operation still but many that weren’t – just to give you a feel for the city.
We did go to this small, southern, homey, quaint, hole-in-the-wall bar on a very random sidestreet. They only served beer and lunchmeat sandwiches. So that’s what we got. She remember us by name, and used “y’all” all the time.
|brotha jay making the south look good for once|
I don’t know what to say about the jazz festival besides this:
it was awesome.