Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

Yvonne drives Melody and me down to a meeting hall. When we get there, many volunteers, young and old, are already in the room. There are signs on the wall that read “Elect John Conyers Jr. for Congress.” I whisper under my breath that my dad was elected to Congress, too. But Melody overhears. She says that’s really cool. And then she asks what my dad does. Oh, man. I don’t really know what to say. I mumble something about him trying to create more jobs to make sure people get paid enough. Melody nods and says that’s important. If people don’t earn enough money, they have to work twice as hard. Double shifts sometimes. Daddy has to work at the auto factory like that, so he’s gone a lot. Melody’s words linger in my head as we take seats at the table. I never thought about it that way. What my dad does matters for families like Melody’s.

We tag-team to stock the envelopes. I fold the folders and Melody slides them into envelopes. The work’s boring until Yvonne whispered whispers that someone special is here. I turn around and see there’s an older woman with glasses sitting nearby. I see a poked out umbrella hangs from the back of her chair. Yvonne whispers that it’s Rosa Parks.

Rosa Parks! Anika wrote a report about her for history class last year. Rosa Parks is the black woman who refused to give her seat on a bus to a white person. Anika said people call her “the mother of the civil rights movement.” Melody asks if she’s stuffing envelopes, like us. Yvonne says she is. She lives in Detroit now. She comes out all the time, working with young people and for politicians, getting things done behind the scenes. I can’t believe Rosa Parks is here. Our work just got a whole lot more interesting and feel super important.

Melody asks if we should talk to her. I wonder if we should. The thought of talking to Rosa Parks makes my heart race. But I wait too long to decide. Suddenly, Mrs. Parks pushes away from the table and stands up. She might be leaving. And sure enough, she says a few goodbyes and heads for the door. As soon as she’s gone, Melody slumps down her chair and says she can’t believe we didn’t say a single word to her. I ask what we would have said? My tongue would be tied in knots. Melody sighs and agrees with me.

And then, I see the umbrella that’s still hanging from her chair. Maybe we should go after her with the umbrella. Yvonne slides into the seat next to me and ask who we should go after.