When I was a freshman in college, at Memphis State University, Rosa Parks came to lecture to the students on campus. I’m not going to lie — at the time I was eighteen and was more interested in the fraternity party that was set to begin an hour in to the lecture. But, I had a professor who encouraged all of us to go listen and even offered extra credit if we managed to meet her. I needed the extra credit and thought this particular professor was really dreamy so… I went to listen to Rosa Parks.
The auditorium was packed. It was the same auditorium that my Intro to Psychology class met in — there were more kids in that class then were in my entire graduating senior class of high school. That night, if it was even possible, the auditorium held more people than I thought capable. It was mid-September, 7pm, and sweltering hot outside. The heat poured in to the auditorium and everyone was fanning themselves and fidgeting in their seats. Then, Ms. Parks came on stage.
She was old, even then in 1986. That was the first thing I noticed, her age, 73. Then I immediately noticed her frailty — she was small, and timid, and needed help on to the stage, and sat while she talked. The auditorium was laid out so that I could see her really well — she looked like the pictures I had seen, her hair pulled back in a bun, her glasses, her sensible shoes.
The crowd calmed when she walked out, the fanning stopped and I thought that everyone must be feeling the same calm breeze that I felt. The woman who was assisting her addressed the crowd first. She told us that Ms. Parks was feeling tired on this night and wondered if it was alright if she just sat in her chair and answered questions from the crowd. I remember trying to take notes on the questions and her answers but I became so caught up in watching her speak that I lost track of the writing and eventually gave up. I desperately wanted an intelligent question to come to my mind so I could raise my hand and have a minute to speak to her — but, it wasn’t to be. The others had questions that were so thought out and intelligent and my mind had only been thinking of that fraternity party just an hour earlier.
Every word she said reminded me of listening to a grandparent tell you about their life, about their loves, about their hardships and their triumphs. I could barely remove my gaze from her face — it was so small and smooth and content.
The questions eventually turned to that day on the bus, when everyone knew her name. The story she told still makes me smile — like that I have the insider information to what really happened. She said she had been a seamstress and had had a very tiring day at work. She got on the bus and sat in one of the only available seats. She said the bus driver drove on until the next stop when he needed the white only seats and needed for her to get up. She said it was late and she was tired and she didn’t have any intention of getting up. I think the kind of tired she was talking about wasn’t really related to her physical state as much as her emotional state — she was tired.
We all get tired don’t we? We all need a place to sit down and collect our thoughts. But, we don’t all necessarily have the strength to stop the tired. I often thought about Ms. Parks and how, given her frail size and soft voice, she was able to take control of her tired. She was able to say “that’s enough”. It’s strange how we sometimes find strength in other people — how their words and their stories lead us to our own strength.
I stayed after the questions had all been asked. I wanted to see her — closely. I wanted to touch her hand and see if it was as soft as it looked. I wanted to hear her voice without the microphone. I was one of the last people she spoke with that night — a memory I will have forever. My friends went to the fraternity party but I met Rosa Parks.
I loved this story, B… thanks for taking me along for the ride.
Thanks for reading Lisa — always like to see your smiling face over here (and twitter of course)!
I love the way you write, emotive and conversational! I feel like Reading this it was my memeory, thanks for sharing it with us!
I think you made the right choice in dissing the party!
Absolutely G — no party would have been worth missing Ms. Parks (especially if no Scots were there)! Thanks for reading!
I just got chills. I don’t think that you realize what an evocative writer you are, Becky. I didn’t see you reach out to touch Ms. Parks’ hand, it felt like my hand reaching out. How wonderful that you were present in the moment that night. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Wow Dani! That just made me all warm and fuzzy! Thanks for reading these — I love that you do!
This touching story brought me back to one of the highlights of my college days…
I, too, got to meet Rosa Parks.
It is quite likely that it was just a few months after your encounter. Spring of 1987, I believe. Maya Angelou (my all-time hero and inspiration) came to perform at my alma mater, the University of Central Arkansas. Because my good friend was on the Student Council, I had the thrill of attending the dinner reception following Dr. Angelou’s reading. Little did I know, when I walked into the room, there in the center…an elderly woman in a wheelchair. That woman turned out to be Rosa Parks. (I will never forget how small she was…small, but fierce)She had come to see her friend, Maya. No fan fare. Very few even knew she was there. I got to shake her hand and participate in a real conversation with her and Maya (as she insisted we call her).
As with you, I will never forget that day.
The treasures of life often come in those unexpected moments.
Great post, Becky. Thank you.
I love that you met her too just a little while later! That is cosmic proof that we were destined to be friends. I would have loved to also have met Maya Angelou as well. I bought her collection when I left for college — still have it on my book shelf. I go back to “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” very often.
And, as a side note: I was on the tennis team at Memphis State and we played Central often — another cosmic proof sign!
I say it is destiny.
And, when I meet you in person, I will tell you another side story about Maya Angelou’s visit, which includes her attending our Gay and Lesbian Student Alliance meeting(this was 1987 when there was nothing “cool” about being gay!).
Both amazing women, in their own right.
Thank you for prompting me to take this trip down memory lane. And, reminding me, “It’s a small world, afterall”. 😉
Thanks for sharing the memory that so shaped the development of the wonderful young woman you were becoming. A defining moment and one you will never forget.
I loved this little slice of history. What an honor to have met Rosa Parks.
Cheers, Marsha
I can remember every detail 23 years later — she was so amazing.
Wow, Becky. That is amazing. Rosa Parks. (Puts my Michael Chabon encounter into perspective!) 😉
Yes, but you have a picture and he looks really good in those jeans.
Wow Becky, thanks for sharing such a great memory! It’s funny how sometimes fate takes a turn and moves us towards such life altering moments isn’t it? Very, nice story, wish I had one like it.
Thanks for taking the time to read Caroline! Always love to see you over here (as well as twitter)!