Valhalla

The following email was originally posted on July 26, 2018

To write my previous emails about my reminiscing about the events of 1968, to better refresh my memory, I revisited my junior high school yearbook.  The title of the yearbook is Valhalla and on the cover there is the image of a Viking.  Now, in 1968, the sports teams at Victor Valley Junior High were called the Valiants.  I was never quite sure what a Valiant is.  I think it had more to do with being courageous in some form or fashion.  However, whatever a Valiant is, the image that seemed to adorn a lot of our team spirit was a Viking image.  After all, Vikings were an aggressive war like folk and our sports teams tended to want to emulate them.

Seeing that Viking on the cover of Valhalla inspired me to want to learn more about my "Viking" heritage.  As luck would have it, the History Channel has been running a dramatic series for the last five years entitled "Vikings".  As Wikipedia describes it

***

Vikings is a historical drama television series written and created by Michael Hirst for the History channel. Filmed in Ireland, it premiered on March 3, 2013 in Canada.^[1]

Vikings is inspired by the sagas of Viking Ragnar Lothbrok, one of the best-known legendary Norse heroes and notorious as the scourge of England and France. The show portrays Ragnar as a farmer who rises to fame by successful raids into England, and eventually becomes a Scandinavian king, with the support of his family and fellow warriors. After Ragnar's death, the later seasons follow the fortunes of his sons, and their adventures in England, Scandinavia and the Mediterranean.

***

For the last two months, I have immersed myself into Viking culture by binge watching all 59 episodes of the "Vikings".  What I have learned from this experience is that the Nordic peoples -- the peoples that a certain President wishes would migrate to this country instead of those dark skinned folks from south of our border -- were essentially the eighth and ninth century version of the MS-13.  The profusely tattooed Vikings were notorious for murdering, raping and pillaging in all of the lands that they raided ... and even amongst themselves.  Rather strange that a millennium later, they are "redeemed" as being the most desired of peoples. 

But then again, what I have also learned is that whatever destruction and havoc that the Vikings may have caused was also accompanied by change.  The dynamic interaction of the Vikings on foreign lands caused those lands to change ... often in positive ways.  Additionally, the very aggressive sea faring nature of the Vikings led to the discovery of lands that had previously been unknown.  Of course, most will assume that I am referring to the Americas, but actually I am referring to the ninth century discovery of one of my favorite places -- Iceland.

And so, in looking at past history for lessons to learn for today, I tend to think that a millennium from now, at a time when, I suspect, California and, possibly, the entire United States have become "browner", some historian will reflect about this time and note the rather remarkable change that was to come.

Peace,

Everett "Skip" Jenkins

-----Original Message-----
From: skipjen2865 <skipjen2865@aol.com>
Sent: Wed, Jun 6, 2018 7:15 pm
Subject: 1968: The Year That Shaped Me: Part Three

Fifty years ago yesterday, I arose from my slumber and hurriedly brushed my teeth and combed my hair.  I then rushed to the kitchen to have my regular bowl of cereal, the bowl of cereal that I routinely had before I would normally bolt out of the house to catch the 7:30am bus that would take me to school, the aforementioned Victor Valley Junior High School.  However, on that particular day, I paused a moment to turn on the television to see the results of the cliffhanger California primary election that had still been too close to call when I had gone to sleep the previous night.  To my horror, the newscasters all had very grim faces.  They were talking not about the election but rather about an assassination attempt on Robert Kennedy.  As soon as I heard this, I immediately went to my parents bedroom, knocked on the door and told them what was going on.  We gathered around the television for a few moments in stunned silence before I actually did run out the door to catch my bus. 

Of course, we all know what happened.  Robert Kennedy was shot in the early morning hours of June 5, 1968, and he was pronounced dead on June 6, 1968, fifty years ago today. 

I will not endeavor to tell you how this news impacted me. Others, I am sure, have memories of the time that are more vivid.  Nevertheless, I was indeed impacted to the core.

A few months later, I began my career as a new sophomore at Victor Valley Senior High School.  As a new sophomore with aspirations for college, the courses that I was scheduled for were pretty much set.  Algebra, Spanish, English Composition, Physical Education, Civics, Driver's Education were all pretty much locked in stone.  However, I was allowed one elective and, following up on my oratorical foray of my ninth grade year, I chose Speech.  The Speech class was taught by a man named Larry Bird, a name that would have gain additional notoriety by another individual some eleven years later.  However, my Larry Bird, my Mr. Bird, was an enthusiastic teacher who ran us through all the different speech techniques and disciplines.  In his class, we practiced original oratory, expository speaking, persuasive speaking, demonstrative speaking, dramatic interpretation, humorous interpretation, extemporaneous speaking, impromptu speaking, and oratorical interpretation (what is now known as declamation).  

For oratorical interpretation one usually chooses a great speech from history.  Being African American, the most common choice would have been Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech.  However, there was a speech that seemed to be more befitting my demeanor.  The speech I chose was Ted Kennedy's "Eulogy for Robert Kennedy".  I chose this speech not just because it had been so eloquently given just a few months before, but also because it was actually two speeches (one by Edward and one by Robert) in one.  I also was drawn to the speech because it conveyed not just sorrow in death but also because it conveyed an affirmation of life and how to live it.

I memorized the speech and gave it in class.  After which, I was invited by Mr. Bird to join his Speech Team to compete in the regional Speech Meets.  Of course, I agreed. 

I never won any of the speech meet competitions, but I believe I did win in other ways.  I do not know for others, but for me, to memorize an eight to ten minute speech required hours of practice.  Because I lived in a relatively small house with two younger brothers and one younger sister, finding space to practice the speech out loud proved to be problematic.  I often found myself outside in the side yard of the little pink house practicing my speech by talking into the wind. Hours of such preparation, along with the intense moments of competition, began to have a profound effect on my psyche and my soul.  I came to a point of not just wanting to say the words eloquently but rather to believing the words spiritually.   

Below you will find the text of Edward Kennedy's "Eulogy for Robert Kennedy".  On this day, the fiftieth anniversary of his death, I encourage you to read it for yourself and see if the words, especially those of Robert Kennedy, speak to you.

It is strange.  Both Robert and Edward Kennedy have both been gone for many years now.   However, at times, when I read or hear their words, it can be as though they never left. 

Peace, 

Everett "Skip" Jenkins

Class of 1975

   

The following is the eulogy for Robert Kennedy given by his brother, Sen. Edward Kennedy at the public memorial service held on June 8, 1968, at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City.  

Your Eminences, Your Excellencies, Mr. President:

On behalf of Mrs. Kennedy, her children, the parents and sisters of Robert Kennedy, I want to express what we feel to those who mourn with us today in this Cathedral and around the world.

We loved him as a brother, and as a father, and as a son. From his parents, and from his older brothers and sisters -- Joe and Kathleen and Jack -- he received an inspiration which he passed on to all of us. He gave us strength in time of trouble, wisdom in time of uncertainty, and sharing in time of happiness. He will always be by our side.

Love is not an easy feeling to put into words. Nor is loyalty, or trust, or joy. But he was all of these. He loved life completely and he lived it intensely.

A few years back, Robert Kennedy wrote some words about his own father which expresses [sic] the way we in his family felt about him. He said of what his father meant to him, and I quote: "What it really all adds up to is love -- not love as it is described with such facility in popular magazines, but the kind of love that is affection and respect, order and encouragement, and support. Our awareness of this was an incalculable source of strength, and because real love is something unselfish and involves sacrifice and giving, we could not help but profit from it." And he continued, "Beneath it all, he has tried to engender a social conscience. There were wrongs which needed attention. There were people who were poor and needed help. And we have a responsibility to them and to this country. Through no virtues and accomplishments of our own, we have been fortunate enough to be born in the United States under the most comfortable conditions. We, therefore, have a responsibility to others who are less well off."

That is what Robert Kennedy was given. What he leaves to us is what he said, what he did, and what he stood for. A speech he made to the young people of South Africa on their Day of Affirmation in 1966 sums it up the best, and I would like to read it now:

• "There is discrimination in this world and slavery and slaughter and starvation. Governments repress their people; millions are trapped in poverty while the nation grows rich and wealth is lavished on armaments everywhere. These are differing evils, but they are the common works of man. They reflect the imperfection of human justice, the inadequacy of human compassion, our lack of sensibility towards the suffering of our fellows. But we can perhaps remember -- even if only for a time -- that those who live with us are our brothers; that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek -- as we do -- nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

• Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men. And surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again. The answer is to rely on youth -- not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. The cruelties and obstacles of this swiftly changing planet will not yield to the obsolete dogmas and outworn slogans. They cannot be moved by those who cling to a present that is already dying, who prefer the illusion of security to the excitement and danger that come with even the most peaceful progress.

• It is a revolutionary world we live in, and this generation at home and around the world has had thrust upon it a greater burden of responsibility than any generation that has ever lived. Some believe there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills. Yet many of the world's great movements, of thought and action, have flowed from the work of a single man. A young monk began the Protestant reformation; a young general extended an empire from Macedonia to the borders of the earth; a young woman reclaimed the territory of France; and it was a young Italian explorer who discovered the New World, and the 32 year-old Thomas Jefferson who [pro]claimed that "all men are created equal."

• These men moved the world, and so can we all. Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

• Few are willing to brave the disapproval of their fellows, the censure of their colleagues, the wrath of their society. Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is the one essential, vital quality for those who seek to change a world that yields most painfully to change. And I believe that in this generation those with the courage to enter the moral conflict will find themselves with companions in every corner of the globe.

• For the fortunate among us, there is the temptation to follow the easy and familiar paths of personal ambition and financial success so grandly spread before those who enjoy the privilege of education. But that is not the road history has marked out for us. Like it or not, we live in times of danger and uncertainty. But they are also more open to the creative energy of men than any other time in history. All of us will ultimately be judged, and as the years pass we will surely judge ourselves on the effort we have contributed to building a new world society and the extent to which our ideals and goals have shaped that event.

• The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of new ideas and bold projects. Rather it will belong to those who can blend vision, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the ideals and great enterprises of American Society. Our future may lie beyond our vision, but it is not completely beyond our control. It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live."

That is the way he lived. That is what he leaves us.

My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life. [He need] be remembered simply as a good and decent man, who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.

Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will some day come to pass for all the world.

As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him:

"Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream things that never were and say why not."

-----Original Message-----
From: skipjen2865 <skipjen2865@aol.com>
Sent: Tue, Jun 5, 2018 7:30 pm
Subject: 1968: The Year That Shaped Me: Part Two

"Nineteen sixty-eight was tragedy and horrific entertainment: deaths of heroes, uprisings, suppressions, the end of dreams, blood in the streets of Chicago and Paris and Saigon, and at last, at Christmastime, man for the first time floating around the moon."

                                                                                                                               From 1968: The Year That Shaped a Generation

The Table of Contents for 1968: The Year That Shaped a Generation includes a number events that left an indelible mark on this nation and came to define a generation.  The harsh awakening of the Tet Offensive, the grim announcement by a sitting President that he would not see another term, the assassination of Martin Luther King, the rise of the Black Power Movement, the tragic Battle of Sisyphus at Khe Sanh, the student take over at Columbia University to forestall the "urban renewal" of the neighboring black community, the assassination of Robert Kennedy, the Police Riots at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, the Anthem Protest at the Summer Olympics in Mexico City, and the Phoenix like resurrection of Richard Nixon all played out during that turbulent year.

Living during this chaos was a daunting task for a fourteen year old who began the year as a ninth grader in his last year at Victor Valley Junior High School.  After all, these events were being played out not just on television but also at home. We were a military family and we supported the war.  But when even the most conservative of commentators began questioning our purpose in Vietnam and the truthfulness of our government, then how could one continue to be steadfast for the war?

As black folks originally from the South, my family admired the work of Martin Luther King.  But when he was assassinated and the cities once again went up in flames, how could one not feel that anger and resentment were justified? I know many of my brethren did but, by the Grace of God, I did not.  For the most part, for me,1968 was not a year for despair but rather one of hope.  This hope was based on the perception that the community in which I lived  -- the community of Victorville, in general, and of Victor Valley Junior High School, in particular -- was a caring one and that as long as we actually cared for one another, then all things were possible. 

A lot of this sense of caring came from my fellow students, people who have been my friends now for life, and from our teachers, some who also have stayed with us for life, and some who were only in our lives for a brief moment but whose influence has lasted a lifetime. In 1968, I happened to be under the tutelage of one of those momentary teachers who come into our lives like a comet.  Her name is Carol Saukkola and, at the time, she was a young enthusiastic teacher who just arrived at Victor Valley Junior High School.  Her husband was an officer stationed at nearby George Air Force Base.  Mrs. Saukkola brought a new energy to the school, and a new perspective.   I think she wanted to shake things up a bit and she started shaking things up by shaping me.  

When I entered VVJHS, I had "integrated" the A Track (College Prep) classes and for two years I had quietly justified my acceptance into the classes by routinely making the honor roll.  However, that was pretty much all I did.  I did not engage in extracurricular activities because I lived too far away from town.  Somehow, Mrs. Saukkola noticed the lone black boy in her English class.  She approached me and asked if I would be willing to work on the school paper. I explained to her that I might but that I lived kind of far away.  She asked me where and how far and after I told her, she said that was not a problem, she could give me a ride home. So I accepted her offer. 

As it turned out, she did not just want me to work on the paper, she decided to make me the Editor. I had never worked on the paper before, others had, but for some reason she wanted me to be the Editor, so I accepted. I actually did enjoy working on the paper, but I would cringe a bit when Mrs. Saukkola drove me home in her stick shift Volkswagen Beetle because I not only lived across the tracks but also across the river from the main part of town.  But Mrs. Saukkola did not seem to mind so I tried not to let it bother me too much as well.

During the course of the year, the town newspaper offered to "employ" some students to write articles about school events for the local paper.  Again Mrs. Saukkola suggested that I be one of the students to write for the paper and again I accepted.  I think we got paid $1.50 for each column but more important than the money was seeing my name in the local paper.  No black person had ever been the editor of the Victor Voice and I had never seen an article written by a black person for the Daily Press. When I showed the articles to my Mom, she was so proud... and so was I.

In the Spring of 1968, Mrs. Saukkola came to me again and encouraged me to enter a speech contest sponsored by the local Optimist Club.  I was terrified of the prospect because when I had graduated as the valedictorian of Eva Dell Elementary School (the elementary school located across the tracks that most of the black and brown kids attended) I had made a mess of my valedictory speech, to the great dismay of my dear mother.  However, once again Mrs. Saukkola said that she would help me and she did.  I wrote the five minute speech and memorized it and then practiced it several times with Mrs. Saukkola critiquing my performance.

This time it worked.  I did not win the contest, but I did perform well ... well enough that my Mom was pleasantly relieved ... and a bit proud.  I think Mrs. Saukkola was proud too  so much so that she decided that I should give the speech to a larger audience.  I seem to recall having to give the speech at some school assembly later on.  I was petrified but I remembered the words.

Writing for the paper and learning how to give a speech were two gifts that Mrs. Saukkola gave to me during 1968.  However, the one that capped them all came during this week some fifty years ago.  At the end of the year, the school held an awards ceremony where awards were given for certain athletic and academic achievements.  The biggest awards were the awards that were handed out by the Principal for Outstanding Girl and Boy, made particularly special because the recipients' names were engraved on a plaque that was placed at the entrance foyer next to the administrative offices.  On that day in June of 1968, I and probably most of my fellow students were stunned to hear the Principal, Fred Hunter, announce that "Skip Jenkins" was the Outstanding Boy for 1968.  

Needless to say, I did not know quite what to think or say after this.  My accomplishments compared to those of others seemed so small.  I still am not sure what I did to deserve it.  Nevertheless, it was the proudest moment of my life. After all, I was the first person of color to win the award and that seemed to be a very hopeful sign for what could be, not only in Victorville, but also in the world outside.  

It is fifty years since that time.  Victor Valley Junior High School no longer exists.  It is now boarded up and abandoned.  As for the plaque that gave me a bit of fame and notoriety, well, it too has long since disappeared.  However, even though the plaque may be gone, it is still the award that I find myself trying to live up to.

And so, when I look back on 1968, I do not look back so much on the turmoil that shaped a generation as I do to the small triumphs that shaped me.  And, wherever Mr. Hunter, and especially Mrs. Saukkola may now be, I, in profound gratitude, say "Thank you for seeing in me more than I ever saw in myself."

Peace,

Everett "Skip" Jenkins

-----Original Message-----
From: skipjen2865 <skipjen2865@aol.com>
Sent: Mon, Jun 4, 2018 3:10 pm
Subject: 1968: The Year That Shaped Me: Part One

Earlier this year, Time magazine published a special edition entitled 1968: The Year That Shaped A Generation.  The 112 page magazine chronicles the events of 1968 that played such a pivotal role in our nation's history and in the making of the Baby Boomer Generation.  

Last week, CNN presented a four part series entitled 1968: The Year That Changed America.  In the four hours, the vivid televised moments from that period could only compel one to reflect on what was and what could have been.

https://www.cnn.com/shows/1968

On a very personal level, during the course of this year, I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on 1968 and I came to the realization that of all the years of my life, 1968 was the year that shaped me the most.  After all, it was during the 1967-68 school year that I began my career in journalism ... a career that appears to continue to today.  It was during 1968, that I began my limited career in athletics learning lessons about life that have lasted a lifetime.  It was in 1968, that I began a public speaking career that has also stayed with me throughout this time.  And it was in 1968 that I achieved a unique distinction which, while the evidence of such is now long gone, the feeling of accomplishment has always stayed within.

Over the course of the next few days, I shall endeavor to explain why 1968 was The Year That Shaped Me.  However, if any of you have remembrances of the time please feel free to share them with us now.

Peace,

Everett "Skip" Jenkins