January 19, 2026 - MLK Day
Honoring Martin Luther King is the right thing to do.
I was talking to one of my students this past weekend about the South in the 1950s. Laela is from Columbia, South Carolina, a city I am quite familiar with. She knows the history, but I’ll bet it’s hard for her to believe that it ever was the way it used to be. My first visit there was in 1959. We stayed with a family for a week. It was one of many wonderful visits. My father was stationed there during World War II for a time. He sang in the church choir (of course) and got to know and love the community and its people.
For a young boy on the verge of his teen years, this was quite an adventure. I saw cotton fields and tobacco fields, and it was the first time that I experienced air conditioning in someone’s home. But something that sticks with me to this day is almost impossible for most people to believe. But it was the way of the South until 1964.
The Dean’s (our friends) had a maid. She was African American. The proper term back then was “negro”. I know, even that sounds weird. At the end of her shift, my dad offered to drive her home. Mr. Dean said she could take the bus, but my dad insisted, and he asked me to come along for the ride.
I had seen the “colored” drinking fountains and signs that said “no coloreds” around Columbia and the South. I understood segregation, but in my home and neighborhood in Rochester, in the 19th Ward, it wasn’t out front. It wasn’t the law. (Years later, it did explode in our town. More about that some other time.) During my idyllic youth, I had Black friends, and I went to School #37 with a mix of folks. I was raised by a black nanny and had many people of color at our house. For me, it was normal.
Our drive to the maid’s home wasn’t too long; it was pleasant. She preferred to sit in the back. We left the main road onto a red dirt road, and then a dusty trail leading to a neighborhood with weathered shacks surrounded by more of that dust. All eyes turned toward our car as it pulled up to her home. There were kids on the porch getting their cornrows properly quaffed, with family and neighbors all around. Normal, but very different from the land I had come from.
Segregation was bad. Bad for people, bad for the economy, bad for education, and just plain evil. This was a time in America when many states called interracial marriage a crime. Those of us who are still alive remember how it was. It is our American history. I know, because I was there.
Martin Luther King Day is a good time to recall the struggle for equality. It’s a great time to celebrate how far we’ve come. And we must keep striving forward. Be kind. Be gentle. Be loving. Remember our past, so we can make a better, more humane future.
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After a busy weekend, filled with music and the unfortunate loss of a dear friend, we woke up to fresh snow and a fresh start. Many old friends have been reaching out. We all miss Gary Burke. There are plans for a celebration of life in Woodstock next weekend. Unfortunately, I will be doing what Burke loved best. My band has a concert Saturday night. Sadly, life must go on.
Old Man Skiing
To clear my head, the missus and I headed out the back door of the lake house with our skis. Our Wildlife Habitat is bustling with life. A chill wind greeted us as we trundled up the hill through the woods to the farmlands and forest that surround us. There are paths and great expanses to traverse. We followed our tracks from yesterday’s ski and blazed a few new trails. Life is so precious, and starting the day skiing is a great way to feel alive. Don’t fight winter. Embrace it.
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I will be at the studio this week, practicing with the band. We are looking forward to the Steeple Coffee House Show this Saturday night. I hope that some of you will join us. I miss you.
Details on Saturday Night’s Show:
https://www.toddhobin.com/news/2026/1/4/a-word-about-charity