Let it be known that Martin Luther King Day (which is today) is my favourite Monday holiday. I even like it better than the Fourth of July. But I have nothing else to say about it, so I hereby acknowledge it, sincerely wish you a happy one, and am now going to talk about something else.
I have really early memories. I mean really early. But I’ll bet you didn’t know they go all the way back more than 130 years before I was born.
Back then, my name was Anna Russell.
I was the daughter of a Congregational minister. (These days, I’m the daughter of a Baptist one.)
In 1838, I was 18, commuting to a nearby town each week and boarding with an older couple, so I could teach children in a one-room school. I would travel home, usually by wagon and the kindness…
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