You Are Standing in History, Too

𝗙𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗥𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝗬𝗼𝘂

H𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱?

For years, I've carried something that I hadn't fully put into words.
The reality that three men who profoundly impacted my world — men I was fortunate to spend time with — all lived with Parkinson's disease.
In my mind, that was never just a coincidence.

Recently, I wrote about spending a day with Muhammad Ali—a childhood hero.
We laughed.
I watched.
I sat in awe of a man whose body had slowed, but whose mind was still sharp and whose impact will outlive us all.

Over my life, I've been blessed to know many remarkable men.
Three of them lived with Parkinson's disease.

Years after that day with Ali, my father was diagnosed.
That's when Parkinson's became real in my family's everyday.

Just like with Ali that day, I saw my dad's sharp mind struggle, as he'd fight to get clear thoughts through uncooperative muscles.

I remember standing at the Colosseum in Italy, crying to my aunt as I realized this would be my father's last family vacation because of the physical toll the disease was taking on his mobility.
He died in 2014.
My dad would have been 91 yesterday.

And then there is Reverend Jackson.

I sat in his office, feeling awe and a sense of familiarity.
After my father, Parkinson's was familiar.
I'd seen the physical changes it caused firsthand and was fully aware of how the mind and spirit could seem trapped inside a body that didn't want to cooperate.

My familiarity and comfort seemed to amuse Rev. Jackson.
When I asked, half joking, if he was 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵, he looked at me, laughed, and said, "I like her."

He had a great sense of humor, a great laugh, and I felt he appreciated me being respectful, honest and funny.

I remember just wanting to sit and listen to him... and I did.

Then, he ushered me to take a photo where he'd no doubt taken hundreds.
The blown-up image of him with Martin Luther King Jr., Hosea Williams, and Ralph Abernathy, taken moments before Dr. King was murdered.

Reverend Jackson died this week.

There's something weighty about that happening during Black History Month.
Not wrapped up like a Hallmark film.
But profound, like I can't think of Reverend Jackson without thinking of Black history.

Reverend Jesse Jackson's life reshaped language, access, and possibility for millions.
Millions.

Black history is not about perfection.
It is about courage and impact— a level of excellence often delivered by imperfect people who kept moving anyway.

H𝗼𝘄 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱?

For me, Ali, my father, and Reverend Jackson have clear views, from high hills, built on legacies that changed so many lives.