Dept. of Remembrance
Feb. 17th, 2026 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaffy_rWell Done, Thou Good and Faithful Servant
The Rev. Jesse Jackson has died at the age of 84. We were driving north on Ashland Avenue when the word came over the radio. I gasped, and did that "Nooo!" thing that's so cliche, but proof that cliches have their roots in truth.
I knew he was old; I knew he had progressive supranuclear palsy; I knew he could no longer walk or speak, this man whose oratory raised the hopes, dreams and resistance of so many black, brown, and marginalized people. I knew he was going to die. But I didn't want it to happen.
I knew he was a complex man. I knew he was vain. I knew he was a little apt to enlarge himself in many instances. I knew he'd made antisemitic comments years ago; I knew he felt sidelined by Barack Obama's presidential campaign, after doing the hard work of paving the way for a black president with his own two surprisingly successful campaigns in 1984 and 1988. I knew he'd had a child out of wedlock.
But he didn't let his vanity outpace his love for others. He relearned humility and other lessons after each misstep. I knew he acknowledged and supported his natural daughter. I knew he was a gifted organizer as well as an orator, I knew he visited Cook County jail every Christmas when others might have - indeed had - forgotten those men. I knew he walked the walk as well as talked the talk. And there's another cliche that has its root in truth.
I met him three times. Once, on the street, heading for Grant Park, the night Obama won the presidency in 2008. He took my questions, brief as they were, and answered me in as thoughtful a way as one can in about 30 seconds. I met him a second time when he spoke to students at Niles West High School in Skokie, a significantly Jewish community. I met him a final time, at a Wilmette synagogue, where he spoke, his voice already being conquered by his illness. He would never have remembered me, but I remembered him.
I'm not black. I'm not really poor. I have privilege that he never had. But I remember his "I am Somebody." I remember. And I cry.
I'm not a Christian believer, not really, not for years. But I can hope that if the God he tried so hard to honor is there somewhere, when the Rev. Jesse Jackson reaches the seat of the Lord, that Lord will look to him and say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."
Here is what an excellent Chicago writer, Neil Steinberg has to say about Rev. Jackson, who was, and is, quintessentially Chicago. And here is a link to a local CBS News special on him.
The Rev. Jesse Jackson has died at the age of 84. We were driving north on Ashland Avenue when the word came over the radio. I gasped, and did that "Nooo!" thing that's so cliche, but proof that cliches have their roots in truth.
I knew he was old; I knew he had progressive supranuclear palsy; I knew he could no longer walk or speak, this man whose oratory raised the hopes, dreams and resistance of so many black, brown, and marginalized people. I knew he was going to die. But I didn't want it to happen.
I knew he was a complex man. I knew he was vain. I knew he was a little apt to enlarge himself in many instances. I knew he'd made antisemitic comments years ago; I knew he felt sidelined by Barack Obama's presidential campaign, after doing the hard work of paving the way for a black president with his own two surprisingly successful campaigns in 1984 and 1988. I knew he'd had a child out of wedlock.
But he didn't let his vanity outpace his love for others. He relearned humility and other lessons after each misstep. I knew he acknowledged and supported his natural daughter. I knew he was a gifted organizer as well as an orator, I knew he visited Cook County jail every Christmas when others might have - indeed had - forgotten those men. I knew he walked the walk as well as talked the talk. And there's another cliche that has its root in truth.
I met him three times. Once, on the street, heading for Grant Park, the night Obama won the presidency in 2008. He took my questions, brief as they were, and answered me in as thoughtful a way as one can in about 30 seconds. I met him a second time when he spoke to students at Niles West High School in Skokie, a significantly Jewish community. I met him a final time, at a Wilmette synagogue, where he spoke, his voice already being conquered by his illness. He would never have remembered me, but I remembered him.
I'm not black. I'm not really poor. I have privilege that he never had. But I remember his "I am Somebody." I remember. And I cry.
I'm not a Christian believer, not really, not for years. But I can hope that if the God he tried so hard to honor is there somewhere, when the Rev. Jesse Jackson reaches the seat of the Lord, that Lord will look to him and say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."
Here is what an excellent Chicago writer, Neil Steinberg has to say about Rev. Jackson, who was, and is, quintessentially Chicago. And here is a link to a local CBS News special on him.
