What a surprise to find 4 Oakland headlined by tributes to the Black Panther Party, a celebration of Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, and David Hilliard.
But then I find Tallulah Dancier, a different kind of chronicler of events--unknown to me but somehow sending forth poetry that hums a fragrant tune,
and I realize each of us carries such tunes. Fragments of events and concussions. We don't explain too much without realizing we have moved outside of the bounds of other people's ability to follow.
I like your choices and wonder where Ron Dellums fits in, or is he a son of Berkeley?
What about unsong fallen heroes like Marcus Foster, another son of Louisana alongside Wilson Riles?
What is the internal class commotion that assumes the costume of street hoods who pull your heart strings with their intense emotion? They do want to read music, and perhaps compose it, but there is that continuous commotion.
"Change what you can what you can't, leave alone and have the sense to know the difference
between the two." Marvin Gaye is it not the time for oakland to grow up? The panthers were a trip not unlike wavy gravy across the bay. Acid was plentiful and damaging to a lot of souls of whatever background.
If the history is to be told, does it need to be re-written to the exclusion of players some gone and many still alive particularly women who staffed the breakfasts for children, cleaned and cooked, bore the children and increased hope during turmoil and lengthy jail terms.
Thus life goes on and how do we celebrate oakland and the human spirit? I do not write for publication, I did not surmise a message, I reach out as another born in Iowa a man without pedigree
or presumption wanting to express pleasure in finding your portion of the Black Panther Party portal
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by Hank Maiden
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