It was just a look. Really.

But both the glance and the smile spoke volumes about the progress that had been made in the print media, which in earlier times was inundated mainly with white scribes from white cultures. That was back in 1983. I, as the general assignment reporter for a local daily publication, had been assigned to cover a gala event at Newark's Symphony Hall. It was a celebration of the first official commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday nationwide.

Mrs. Coretta Scott King was the invited honoree at this extravaganza and the ballroom was filled with "brothers" and "sisters" of color. The glance and/or look to which I refer came from Mrs. King herself. Here's what happened. She was seated at the head table and surrounding her were members of the press, yours truly included. But, I was the only African American reporter among them, and as Mrs. King canvassed the group, her eyes spotted this writer and she held her glance right there. A wide smile crossed her face. Naturally, I returned the smile because we both knew, without exchanging a word, what the eye contact was about. She was proud that I was among the group of writers. And, we also knew it was because of her husband, Dr. King, and others who sacrificed their very lives so people like me could have a chance to share their gifts in the marketplace of information and ideas.

I tell the story regarding that night periodically, especially since the death of Mrs. King. Not only was my presence appreciated that night by this extraordinary wonder woman, but a number of people at various tables stopped me to ask, "Are you a reporter, too?" How proud they were. And, I was equally proud to represent them. What a night! Well, Coretta Scott King went the way we will all go when it's our time. That, in and of itself, is not the sad part.

The saddest part is that many of the young Blacks who've reaped the most from the struggles of their ancestors, appear to appreciate such sacrifice the least. And, in my judgment, are not doing enough to perpetuate those same goals. First, we lost Rosa Parks, then Mrs. King and more recently the eloquent voice of the Rev. Dr. William Augustus Jones from Brooklyn. All of these people did much for a movement that took Black folks, not simply from the back of the bus, but from the back of white America's collective psyche and made the powers that be sit up and take notice.

I surely wouldn't have been in the room that day at Symphony Hall had it not been for the sustained indignation of Mrs. King, Mrs. Parks and Dr. Jones, et al.

There are those who wonder aloud whether the King children will continue the fight? We "best" be worrying about ourselves, for the King children have suffered tremendously down through the years.
And, down through the years our successes as Black people have come about not because the doors were always open. In fact, sometimes such doors of opportunities were forced open by those who weren't gonna let "nobody" turn them around.

The question is not whether there's another Coretta Scott King on the horizon. The better question is “What are we going to do with the gifts God gave each one of us?” If we can answer in the affirmative that we intend to continue to take care of business ― no matter what, then we can reflect on Mrs. King's life, or that one moment in time that I had with her, and know unequivocally that we "ain't no ways tired."