There's a change in the sea
So from now on there'll be a change in me
My walk will be diff'rent my talk and my name
Nothin' about me is goin' to be the same,
I'm goin' to change my way of livin' if that ain't enough,
Then I'll change the way that I strut my stuff,
'cause nobody wants you when you're old and gray
Ther'll be some change made.
Song: Bennie Goodman
1938
This week, I received a letter from ;the alumni office, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill inviting me to my 60th class graduation anniversary. Just think, I graduated from undergraduate school 60 years ago and, the very day I received this notification, I had taken a representative from the university to lunch because I have been very generous... my efforts to give of my means, to disabled students. The largest minority in America are the handicapped and disabled, and the most neglected. This totally blind, 100% disabled, service connected, medical officer of the Korean war knows the truth. I have never been able too get a white cane from the government although, from poverty, working my way through eight years of professional training in order to serve my country. Like most veterans, I am insulted and Americans should be embarrassed at the treatment of veterans and the disabled. I do not expect any changes, some efforts would have been made by this time.
It was interesting that the letter was signed by two individuals who I well remember were BPOC (Big People on Campus) One disease from which you never recover is poverty. I will never recover from the “Big I, little u” mentality on that college campus when I was a student. Perhaps with the racial and gender integration, changes have occurred since my graduation. At least, unlike the black people of my time, sweating through the poor preparation from a small country school, (13 in my graduating class) I was allowed to matriculate.
I so remember the “frat houses”, “frat boys”, those who came from expensive preparatory schools and large well-heeled public high schools. The “pain” of poor education in this state never felt more intently by anyone else. It was the grace of God, the fact that I knew I was not stuck where I started, no encouragement from any one else, except my parents, the generous, Bible believing people of Eastern NC , who purchased the Bibles I sold in the summer, the generous employers who employed me at night, that got me through the eight years. And, after military service as an army field grade officer, never giving up, surviving to dictate this letter. I do not blame the elitist on campus (members of the golden fleece, order of Gimghoul Castle, Rameses Club, etc.), they were who they were. In most cases, they came from elitist, well-connected families... connected to the democrat-superior political-social controlling, privileged-blue blood ancestry of the state. For years, traveling the world, I had a shadow of vision in one eye. I will never forget a vice president of Chase Manhattan Bank, NYC, telling me, your college education should involve “contacts”. Your social contacts are more important than any knowledge gleaned on any campus. And, if one thing I have learned in a long, eventful life, it is “who you know, not what you know.” Because of my Christian commitment, because I was never with the country club, golf course, happy hour crowd, it has been a matter of depending entirely on the mercies of God to get me “through it all.”
I went to one reunion of my medical class in New Orleans, one time was enough. One of my friends pointed out the expensive suits with which my classmates were attired (decked out) Of course, then as well as now, I was wearing second hand clothes.
I have refused to be a victim, not sought any solace or sympathy. The best men I have ever known were buried, serving their country. But, I cannot help but think of that cripple, laying every day, outside the Gate Beautiful, of the temple at Jerusalem (referred to by Luke (Acts 3:2) temple destroyed by Romans 70AD.) This crippled man had laid outside the temple for 40 years, begging. Just think, only one life to live, all kinds of weather, normal body fluids like the rest of us. I'm sure all the disciples, like Peter and John, had passed him many times... just as those “concerned” people worshiping in the temple. But this day, and it was the poor-crippled-beggars day, Peter was brave enough to attempt his God-given gift of healing. The people in the temple were amazed that this man was jumping with joy, hanging on to Peter and John. You see, these “religious” people in the temple just as “religious” elitists on campus and elsewhere, people think that faith-grace-belief, is a perception, not a reality. God designed each of us, the poor, the ugly, the disabled, all in His image. This writer is glad to have known those on the college campus, those in fields, making a living through crops, those from cotton mills making a living through sweat... ALL who realized that when God created man, he breathed into him life with a soul... a soul that never dies.
Dr. Thomas R. Morris
Lt. Col USA Retired
Blind/Dictated
Visit my blog at http://pockets1940.blogspot.com/
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