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Mississippi Delta the next day—they opened up for one night to serve us fried chicken and catfish, french fries, and coleslaw. After dinner, a blues band played, and many of us danced, another part of our healing from the days before and the end to a celebratory day that served as a reminder that there is always joy in the struggle.
Mac McLaurin, a former SNCC member and compa- triot of Bob Moses, began our Delta tour saying, “This
clear that I wanted to sit in one of the prosecutor’s chairs. I was enacting some kind of adolescent fantasy that by sitting there I could undo the failure of justice.
In 2007, the leaders of Sumner issued a community apology for the murder of Emmett Till, which our group read aloud in unison. “We the citizens of Tallahatchie County believe that racial reconciliation begins with telling the truth... [and we] acknowl- edge the horrific nature of this crime. Its legacy has haunted our community. We need to understand the system that encouraged these events and others like them to occur so that we can ensure that it never happens again.”
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Boarding the bus for the last time to head to the Memphis airport, I reminded Martha of what
she had said about being a proud mother, and I told her that I felt proud to be her “son.” I was so grateful for all she had done to bring us into her world—a world of pain, sorrow, courage, and joy. Our trip organizers had warned us that there were always “bumps” on these trips. Martha had to weather many bumps, hills, and mountains with us—from COVID to mishandled hotel reservations to a shooting and tornado warnings. By persever- ing through difficult times and sharing joyous moments together, we had become family over the course of this trip.
At our end-of-trip dinner, our other tour guide, Willie Williams—a teacher, an actor, and a singer— recited a gripping monologue from George Sklar’s play, And People All Around. It’s a eulogy delivered by a fictional COFO worker at the funeral of a slain civil rights activist, and it ends with “Enough. Isn’t it time we had enough?”
It’s time. It’s time to make a difference. This is the time to move. Isn’t it time we had enough? Past, present, and future are intertwined. All of the people who shared their histories with us are still ringing the alarm. We were challenged along the way to think about what we would do in response to this trip. I vowed that I would recommit myself to doing more to play a part in altering the trajectory in our country— that I “need (not) wait a single moment before starting to improve the the world.”
Thorlichen is a retired educator and former community organizer and union activist. He is currently at work on the second draft of his memoir, Hope Farm. Peter lives outside of Boston, Massachusetts.
“The students clearly didn’t know what to expect from a
chorus largely made up of older white people. As we were singing, the students’ expres- sions went from polite attentiveness to bright- eyed glee.”
is the time to move,” noting the ominous currents afoot in our country again. He wasn’t talking about the weather. Our first stop was Greenwood, once known as the “Cotton Capital of the World.” Emmett Till’s body was found a few miles outside of town. Greenwood is one of the most glaringly segregated cities I have ever seen. On one side of the Yazoo River is the Black neighborhood filled with ramshackle houses and boarded-up buildings. Across the bridge is a predominately white area with mansions and manicured lawns. To anyone who doubts the exis- tence of generations-long systemic racism, I have a bridge to show you.
Because of the tornado warning, Sumner, Missis- sippi would be our last stop on the Delta tour. We visited the courthouse where the murderers of Emmett Till were tried and acquitted within an hour by an all-male, all-white jury. We were allowed to sit anywhere in the courthouse. I was
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