Imagine the relief provided by the smallpox vaccine. I have friends, polio victims, who have devoted their lives to eradicating the disease. Kindergarten entry vaccines, college admission vaccines, international travel vaccines. Tetanus. Mumps. What advances, such advantages.
Read MoreTogether, woven into a ragtag assembly, our eyes meet naturally and hold. Such sweet bedlam engulfs me for almost five hours. Not one raised voice, not even one—those leaving the tent and unable to get the vaccine nevertheless calmly detail the snafu and proudly show off their new appointment cards. No complaint, not one, from those in wheelchairs or dressed in shirtsleeves.
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When Lucille Clifton asks, “won’t you celebrate with me,” we answer yes. What does this Black woman decide when she finds no model for how to create her life? “what did i see but to be myself?” she responds. The poet fastens her hands and makes her life of “starshine and clay.” What does a boy from the staunchly-segregated south long to do before he dies? Jimmy Carter casts his ballot for Kamala Harris. Won’t you celebrate the 39th president with me?