I think I'm gonna quit using the phrase "soul food." It's just what I grew up eating. From now on, it's gonna be just "food." We ate at the restaurant where Martin Luther King, Jr. had his last meal. Catfish, mashed potatoes, really well-seasoned green beans, corn bread, sweet tea, and peach cobbler. And then, stuffed with sugar and fat, rolled on the Civil Right Center at the Lorraine Motel, where King was shot.
He was there to support the sanitation workers strike. Some of those in the marches (not members of any of the organizations) broke store windows, which provoked a violent police response and severe beating of innocent marchers. He was discouraged about the future of the movement, which he saw as helping the poor, living isolated in poverty in a country of wealth. His last speech, the "I Have Been To The Top Of The Mountain" which was informal, last minute, without any notes or text, was magnificent. He looked bone tired, and he knew already he would die young: "I may not get there with you." But he ended with declaring "I fear no man."
The next afternoon, he was shot on the balcony of the motel, on his way to dinner with other leaders of the civil rights movement to discuss how to put together a peaceful demonstration in support of the sanitation workers.
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