• It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. So starts “A Tale of Two Cities” by Charles Dickens. But you see, things aren’t like that now. Sure, there were the worst of times and the very worst of times. But there aren’t any the best of times now. Maybe never.

    The world before my very eyes was crumbling apart. Prejudice ensued. People on the streets were slaughtered for no reason. Anyone could do just about anything they wanted to do. Drugs, rape, drinking, etc. You name it, and I can assure you that someone did it at least once in their lifetime. In my honest opinion, I’m surprised that World War IV hasn’t erupted yet. Right now, the world is not a safe place to be…

    My twin sister; Kat and I were raised by our grandparents. We never knew who our parents were. Our grandparents never told us who they were or even showed us pictures of them. It made me wonder who our mother and father were, but after accidentally coming across some court documents in the attic a few years later, I regretted my curiosity of them and they never crossed my mind ever again. This is why our grandparents never mentioned them.

    I remember that when Kat and I were younger, our grandmother would tell us all about her life in the past. I believe she called them “The Good Old Days”. She really liked to talk about those days. “When I was your age” was usually how she started her stories. To Kat, grandmother’s ramblings were nothing more but stupid and worthless and usually made excuses to go to her room. But to me, they were more than just ramblings. I believed that they were like fairy tales, witty stories, and full of wisdom and wonderful things. I was so absorbed into hearing about my grandmother’s life like how most people my age are into hearing about the latest gossip.

    Most of my grandmother’s stories were funny, like how she met our grandfather. “I remember it like it was just yesterday”, she told me. “Why it was at the local diner that used to be by the high school.” So I asked, “Diner? What about McDonald’s? Or Burger King? Didn’t you guys hang out there?” She chuckled and patted me on the head. “Oh Belle. We didn’t have any of those places back in the good old days. A diner was where we were. And it was better when there was a jukebox.” “I think I get it”. I replied. “Now tell me how you met Grandpa!” “Alright,” she said. “Well, I remember that I was eating with my girlfriends when he came over. I could tell he was nervous. His knees were shaking so badly, that it sounded almost like an earthquake!” For some reason, I always thought that part was funny. The way she said it; she said it with such feeling and excitement that I couldn’t help but laugh.

    Some of her stories were a bit sad, like when she told us about when everyone mourned over John F. Kennedy’s death after he was assassinated. “How could someone kill a great man like him, Grandma?” I had asked her when I was only six. “You don’t understand, Belle,” she had replied. “Not everyone though that he was such a wonderful president.” And I questioned more. “But why not? He wanted to help people out! He wanted everyone to be equal, even all the black people.” And she replied again, “But not everyone thought like he did, dear. Some white people didn’t want desegregation like Kennedy did.” “And that’s why he was assassinated?” asked I. “Indeed it is”, said she. “But just remember, he was one of the greatest presidents the United State will ever have.”

    She also told me other stories. Like when Elvis Presley was considered the King of Rock and Roll like how Michael Jackson is considered the King of Pop. And she would tell me that all about the sock hops that they had at her school. I always thought that you hopped with your socks, but she said that at the dances, they had to take off their shoes so they wouldn’t ruin the floor. So they danced with their socks on. But out of all the stories that she told me, there is only one story that stays fresh in my mind.

    “Hey Grandma?” I once asked her. “What’s the “I Have a Dream Speech”?” “Why do you ask?” she said. “I need to memorize a part of the speech and recite it for my Social Studies class.” When I told her that, the look on her face had somewhat a shock to it, but also, a bit of happiness. “I’m glad you asked, Belle. Now you just wait right there.” And she went off to get a video tape. “You know dear,” she said. “This speech was delivered by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.” “Was he a great man, Grandma?” I asked. “Yes Belle. He was a wonderful man.” With that, she started the tape, and I saw a black man with a bunch of people; white, black, and some others that I didn’t know. “Who’s the black man?” I asked. “Silly,” she said. “That’s Martin Luther King.” I was in shock as he started to deliver his speech on the tape.

    As I watched the tape, everyone watching him saying that speech was listening to him in awe. It reminded me how I listened to my grandmother when she spoke. But this was different. I was only one person listening. But Mr. Luther, he made over thousands upon thousands of people listen! And I was one of the many thousands listening to his magnificent words. “Free at last! Free at last,” he declared. “Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!" And everyone was clapping and cheering for him. Never have I ever seen a man- a black man for that matter, get so much applause. Then my grandmother stopped the speech. “Say Grandma? You wouldn’t happen to have like a copy of that speech will you?” She smiled and went off to get me one.

    I decided that I wouldn’t memorize a part of the speech, but I would memorize the whole thing by heart. I wanted to show my classmates and my teacher just how much this speech has moved me. And that’s exactly what I did. For the next week that we had to memorize, I read the speech two times a day, and I watched the tape of the speech at least five times a day. I just didn’t want to say the speech. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be just like the man that moved the world with his speech. “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." The words echoed in my mind over and over. And I achieved my goal. I recited the whole speech in front of my class. Many classmates clapped, and some booed at me. My teacher just thought I was a showoff and sent me home with a note saying that I shouldn’t be a know-it-all.

    And now, here I am, fifteen years later, with the speech still echoing in my mind like a record player. Even to this day, I can still recite the whole speech. And I am proud. I am proud to know what a great man Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was. I know that my grandparents are happy now, watching me from above. I just wish my sister listened to my grandmother as I stand, watching her grave, for she too, fell into the fate that my parents once did. While this saddens me, I am faithful to not be like them, like the people in this world, full of hate and prejudice. How I wish that I could’ve seen Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and tell him how much he inspired. How I wish I could live in the good old days like my grandparents once have.