Malala Is Only One Person

You can say the same. I can say the same of myself. On our own, we are only one. However, if we each do what we can to make the world a better place, what could we accomplish?

By now, I imagine everyone knows Malala Yousafzai’s story. As a young girl, she defied the Taliban in her native country of Pakistan by attending school and demanding that all girls be afforded the same educational opportunities as boys.

Photo by Russell Watkins/Department for International Development. - https://www.flickr.com/photos/dfid/14714344864/

Photo by Russell Watkins/Department for International Development. – https://www.flickr.com/photos/dfid/14714344864/

At only 11 years old, she gave a speech in Pakistan, “How dare the Taliban take away my basic right to education?” When she was 12, she began blogging about her experiences.

She continued to speak out even after the Taliban shot and nearly killed her. For her courage and “struggle against the suppression of children and young people and for the right of all children to education,” she was a co-recipient of the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize.

How many of us face literal threats of death for speaking our minds? I know that I am sometimes afraid to speak my mind when all I have to fear is a lost friendship. Where did Malala—where does anyone—summon the courage to speak out in the face of death?

That question sent me on a search for other extraordinary young woman who made a difference at pivotal moments of history. I came across the website for the National Women’s History Museum, an organization honoring the achievements of American women. Currently, the museum has only an online presence. Its goal is to build a brick-and-mortar building in Washington, DC.

Among its many virtual exhibits about women is “Young and Brave: Girls Changing History.” I had never heard of many of these extraordinary young women. The story that stood out for me concerns the so-called Little Rock Nine. In 1957, these six brave girls and three brave boys also risked their lives for the opportunity to go to school.

Little Rock Nine

http://www.marquette.edu

In the mid-twentieth century, the United States was very much a segregated society. White children and black children attended separate schools. Despite a Supreme Court decision declaring “separate but equal” education unconstitutional, many states balked at integrating their schools. The schools in the State of Arkansas became a flashpoint for the issue when President Dwight Eisenhower called out federal troops to force Little Rock Central High School to admit the nine young black students. The students endured daily verbal and physical attacks. One of the Little Rock Nine students—Minnijean Brown—was expelled because she retaliated against the white students who taunted her.

Yet Minnijean Brown—today Minnijean Brown-Trickey—ultimately received the education she craved, graduating from high school and college. She’s been a teacher, the deputy assistant secretary for workforce diversity at the Department of the Interior, and a tireless advocate for youth leadership and social justice.

Fittingly, Ms. Brown-Trickey also was one of the invited guests to attend the ceremony at which Malala received the Liberty Medal in Philadelphia on October 21, 2014.

Have you ever faced a situation when you had the opportunity to right a wrong? What were the consequences?

Fathers and Daughters

So, I’ve decided to take a detour.

I planned to write about Malala Yousafzai because she is a superstar in the inspiring teens universe, and she was just awarded the Nobel Peace Prize and the Liberty Medal. I promise to write about her soon, just not today.

Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 94 years old. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, so I think I should just let it out.

My dad was the crazy product of an Irish-Catholic mother and a German-Lutheran father. His mother gave him his beautiful smile; his love of language, especially poetry; and his Catholic faith. From his dad, he learned that life could sometimes be hard, even unfair, but you just had to do your best and keep moving forward.

After his family and faith, my dad had three loves.

Music

Wolfgang-amadeus-mozart_1-revert

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Hearing a beautiful piece of classical music had the power to brighten even his worst days. He asserted that Germans wrote the best music and said that Mozart was his favorite composer.

When I hit my teens and became, according to him, “mouthy,” I pointed out that Mozart was Austrian. He said, “German. Austrian. Same thing.” I’m not sure the Austrians would agree, but I couldn’t convince Dad of that.

When I was in grade school, the Philadelphia classical music station (WFLN then; WRTI now) had a Saturday morning program featuring the music and biographies of the classical music masters. Dad and I would sit at the kitchen table listening to the show, and he would tell me why the slow movements were his favorites and why the Philadelphia Orchestra was the best in the world.

Dad’s love for classical music did not extend to opera, although late in life he condescended to listen to recordings of operas without the words. I never understood the point of that, but if it made him happy, who was I to criticize him?

Baseball

Cliff_Lee,_philly

Cliff Lee Photo by artolog https://www.flickr.com/people/artolog

Dad’s other love was baseball. He was a lifelong Philadelphian and a diehard Phillies fan. Although I was a girl, because I was his only child, Dad saw no reason why he couldn’t take me to Phillies games. This was pretty radical thinking in the Sixties, at least in our family.

When I was very young, we would take a bus to 21st and Leigh Avenue to the old Connie Mack Stadium. Then the Phillies moved to Veterans Stadium, and we had to take a bus and a train. But we still went, and I continued to fill out the scorecards and aggravate my father by asking lots and lots of questions.

He liked to pay attention to every second of the game. We had to buy our hot dogs, sodas, and other snacks before the game or from the vendors who patrolled the stands. Dad NEVER left his seat once a game began. “You wanted to see the game,” he’d say, when I would beg for ice cream. “Watch the game.”

Chocolate

Chocolate_bunnies

Chocolate Bunnies Domenico Bandiera Photography https://www.flickr.com/people/66135347@N00

My dad’s third love was chocolate. A perfect day was a day when he had chocolate milk for breakfast, chocolate cookies or Tastykakes with lunch, and a chocolate dessert after dinner. Around 9 p.m., he would head for the kitchen to get a bowl of ice cream—chocolate, of course.

Chocolate candy was not safe in our house. Although my mom always bought several bags of candy when Halloween and Easter were on the horizon, invariably, the week before the holiday, she had to go back to the store. Dad had eaten all the Hershey bars, Milky Ways, and chocolate-covered bunnies intended for trick-or-treaters and Easter baskets.

So, Dad, here’s to you. In your honor, I am having chocolate cake and ice cream tonight. Wish you were here to enjoy it with me.

Coda

My all-time favorite novel featuring a father and daughter is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. (Heck, that’s my all-time favorite novel, period.) I also love Ramona and Her Father by Beverly Cleary.

What are your favorite stories about your Dad?

What are your favorite novels featuring daughters and their dads?