Recently on our family listserve, my grandfather Irving shared an essay memoir he wrote to the Obama campaign. It’s a moving recollection and reflection on his own involvement in the civil rights movement, something I’ve been meaning to write about for a while. After asking to see if he’d be ok with it, I’m now happy to share it with you. Enjoy!
A Dramatic Memory on the Eve of Obama’s Election
Irving M. Levine
One month after the dramatic election of Barack Obama, I celebrated my 79th birthday with renewed hope and considerable glee. The day, December 7th, always evokes vivid memories of my 12th birthday in 1941. There wasn’t much to celebrate, of course, as I sat by the radio, hour-after-hour, hoping and praying that despite massive losses at Pearl Harbor, we might still prevail as a nation. Thank god that we had chosen FDR as our President. His indomitable spirit, inspirational character, and transformational leadership rallied us to victory against truly evil forces seeking to dominate the world.
From those times of dark shadows to today, my life’s journey has been a good and lucky one. Born into poverty, two months after the stock market crash of 1929, I grew up in a neighborhood largely populated by Jews, Blacks, and small enclaves of Italian and Polish families. We lived in the heart of Brownsville, Brooklyn—home to Murder Incorporated—and our fates were up for grabs. For my three brothers and me, poverty and high-crime would not prove to be a knockout blow. A close family, mutual aid, the WPA, and our parents’ good character got us through the worst of times. But for many of my street-corner buddies, their lives went the wrong way. Dozens ended “up the river” or died of drug and gang activities.
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