While my comrades in the 32 Days of Black History Month are over there posting up all manner of Magnificence, I was apronned up, slinging around food for gratuity. I used to be slightly embarrassed, to have gone from medium range Capitol Hill Peon to full time waiter in just a few years, but my reality is far more complicated than that. My reality is that I am a professional. A highly skilled and reasonably compensated professional at that. I defy any of you who dine out with any regularity to search your memory bank and not have at least ONE subpar dining experience within the last 30 to 45 days. Combine that with the fact that I make slightly less than Mrs. Ink the Pedagogue (a crime in and of itself) and you have what makes for a fairly decent way to make a living.
It was my return to the restaurant plantation that prevented me from being as prolific as I had enjoyed during my time recuperating. Now that I am back in the flow, I will do my best to get caught up.
In that spirit, I would like to honor A. Philip Randolph, civil rights activist and labor organizer, who devoted his life to representing those who serve for a living.
“Justice is never given; it is exacted and the struggle must be continuous for freedom is never a final fact, but a continuing evolving process to higher and higher levels of human, social, economic, political and religious relationship.” (Randolph)