Up here in Turkey Hollow, the big news of the week is that we missed two big storms and a brutal cold wave is heading our way, with wind chills plummeting to minus 20 below!

We can handle the cold and snow, but when political ugliness intrudes into our life up here in the Hollow it is a different story. The element of race being injected into the presidential campaign is a great sadness. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed and Senator Obama, Senator Clinton and John Edwards agreed to call a truce. The question is - has the damage has been done or will we rise above the ugliness and judge this election on the pressing issues of the time?

Interestingly, as the storm raged around race last week, it appeared that those of us who had lived through the dark days of segregation were offended the most. Those who were not heavily involved in that historic struggle tended to treat it as a political issue. In some ways, no matter who we support, Obama’s success is a validation of our efforts during the 1960s, and we want to see his candidacy judged on the merit of his ideas and the content of his character. Those who lost their lives, were jailed, beaten and bombed dreamed that some day a man like Barack Obama would emerge from the ashes of their sacrifice.

This past week, many people told me that I overreacted to comments on racial undercurrents in the campaign. Perhaps, but the jarring images of racism in real life from childhood and as a young political activist are in my head forever. I will never forget the horrors I witnessed or courage and inspiration of those struggling for something better.

My family lived in Southern New Jersey, which along with Southern Delaware and the Eastern Shore of Maryland, was know as "Little Dixie." The region had sent troops to fight with the Confederates and separation of the races was a way of life. My father worked for Seabrook Farms and my mother kept books for a farm equipment company. They didn't have much, but worked hard and were good people and I loved them very much. But, they also were for segregation. Not the variety preached by the KKK or White Citizens Council, but just viewed it as a way of life. In some sense, along with others in the community, I think having someone below them made them feel better about their own struggle. Nevertheless, they felt strongly about preserving the status quo and hated the Civil Rights movement.

The memories are still stark today. Even when the schools were integrated in our small farming community, African American children usually sat on one side of the classroom. In the movie theater, they had to sit in the balcony. They lived in their own community – Yorktown, which was commonly referred to by the adults as "N- Town." In our town, it was commonly understood that no African American should be in town after six in the evening.

I remember one class trip, when we stopped for food at a restaurant which would not serve African Americans. The white kids went in while the Black kids waited in the bus and were not fed. I refused to go in and led chants of “Freedom” from the buses, much to the dismay of my principal. I recall a time when some African American field workers made a home in an old shack down the road from our house. There were so many holes in the wall, you could literally see through the entire house. One day, as I was hanging out in our front yard with my father, who was visiting with a New Jersey State Trooper friend, the law enforcement officer said to my dad, "Had any problems with the "N.....s" down the road". My dad replied, "Not yet." The trooper said, "If any of them give you any problems, just shoot them and throw them through the window and we will write it up as a robbery."

My father and I got into raging arguments while I was in high school about going South to join the sit-ins. My dad, who was known among the workers as a good man who was always there to help others, was in a rage. I didn't win that time, but as soon as I left home for college, I joined the Civil Rights movement as a participant and not a leader.

When my classmates and friends John Atkins and Russell Garrison died in Vietnam, Russell, who was white, got a park with a memorial. John, however, got nothing.

Most of my inspiration, my heroes and my energy came from those early days of the Civil Rights struggle. Today, while I find myself supporting John Edwards and many others support Senator Clinton, the candidacy of Senator Barack Obama is a testimony to all those who gave so much in that time. Obama is proof that anything is possible in one's own lifetime.

We Have Overcome.