Bloody Sunday Continued

And, now, to the Bridge. My good friend, Fitzgerald Mann, took fantastic pictures of the entire event but this
angle of the bridge provided a different perspective.  All side streets were cordoned off to allow an orderly procession across the bridge behind the delegation of elected officials, celebrities, etc. When we came to the fencing, my group went to the left; I went to the right. Oops.  Separated.

By going to the right, I was ahead of my group and on the bridge. I was in a position to see the politicians, celebrities, noted figures who came to participate in the march.  What I didn't have was my phone. I'd unknowingly dropped it in the bag destined for the car.  How can I take pictures? Or let folks know where I am? No problem. We're all going to cross the bridge. I'll just wait for them on the other side. 

Once the politicians, et al, passed by, the group with whom I was standing fell in behind them.  When the crowd stopped, I moved to the side and kept walking.  Prayed my way across that bridge. Bad back, obese, bad knee, Lord, just help me get to where I could sit down...on my trusty walking cane with seat.  Yes, Yes.  They laughed at my little green contraption but it saved the day. Because it was a long wait before someone I knew came across that bridge. 

The first person across whom I recognized was Andrea Bond Johnson, my favorite Delta.  She told me of the consternation I'd caused among the group. They had no idea where I was, couldn't contact me, in other words: scared that something had happened to the old woman.  Did she get mugged?  Faint?  Have a medical event?  Nope, I was chillaxing at the base of the bridge on the other side. That is...until the hordes of people came across like a tidal wave. I quickly took my little seat and got the hell out the way.  Sitting on the side of the road was not the place to be at that moment. The following crowds were more sedate. I trailed her back to the bus (another long walk) and they made contact with Regina, Candice, and Fitz.  We agreed on a pick-up place on the highway and they would be back with the car.

It was a long time before the bridge opened to traffic.  I was a fixture on the side of the road for so long waiting for my ride until the State Trooper asked if I needed help.  I have to admit that by that time I was getting a little antsy myself.  No phone; the bus was long gone; and I didn't know anybody's phone numbers.  The highway was becoming deserted when they finally rolled up. Seems they had been given directions on how to circumvent the Pettus Bridge and get across to where I was waiting.  Except they kept going in circles and never discovered the way. No problem. We were on our way back to TN.

Thank you, ladies of the Jackson, TN, chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., for letting me share the wonderful journey. Thank you Robin Gadsen Dupree for bringing the movie, Selma,  to view on the ride down. It refreshed my memory and was the perfect reminder for why we were going.  Most importantly:  Thank you to those who marched, bled, and died so that all people would have the opportunity to vote.  We stand on your shoulders.