Step Out

When my father passed away in mid January heading toward 89 years, a most lasting impression was his subtle determination to participate in community, take stands on public issues, and practice the freedoms of expression embodied in our country’s First Amendment and Bill of Rights.

Religion. Assembly. Petition. Press. Speech.

My father was a biology teacher and family man. Happy go lucky. His persona was a blend of Charlie Brown and Jimmy Stewart in the film, “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

His style of communication was full of dry wit, and subtle. It caught you off guard. He humbled you with his graceful way. Dad was a quiet leader.

As an early advocate for a greener planet and the environment, Dad lead the charge in the Flint, Michigan area in helping pass the Michigan Beverage Containers Initiated Law of 1976. It was part of his commitment to the environment and our country’s bicentennial celebration.

To promote the passing of the law, he encouraged neighbors to drop off beverage cans and bottles that transformed our front yard into one giant pile over 10 feet high. When a local opponent drove his car through the pile and scattered it late one evening, the Mitchell children stacked up the pile again. Determined to make his stand, Dad staked out a 8’ x 4’ sign the next day that proclaimed, “Last of the Litter!”

We won that campaign.

Earlier in adolescence, at the very school where Dad and Mom were teaching, I tried to work some of Dad’s quiet magic. As a student council member, I heard daily complaints about the flies and cockroaches in the cafeteria. With the cafeteria doubling as a study hall, it seemed that all we did was 'shoe' and swat flies, and flick crawling roaches off of our tables.

Determined to find a solution, I asked a fellow council member to join me in searching out alternatives. The only viable option meant calling the county health inspector’s office. So we did. We petitioned for a sanitation inspection.

In the inspectors came. Out went the lights - for a week. In came a special crew to disinfect and clean up - the cafeteria and kitchen ceilings, walls, floors, tables, cooking utensils and table ware.

The student body was fired up, at first. But eating sack lunches while sitting on a drafty gym floor grew old. Come the following Monday, everyone was ready for study hall and lunch in the cafeteria.

First in line for lunch, my younger brother waited for the serving line door to open. When it did, he blurted out to the cook, “What are we having, fried cockroaches?”

Down came a big hand on his collar, as the principal said, “Son, you’re going to take a few days off from school.”

The clear and present danger test had been breached, at least for junior high students. More importantly, however, we petitioned for change, and we succeeded.

We won. We discovered our voice, and we tapped our rights of freedom of expression to make our school a healthier place to learn.

Now, it’s 2012, and an election year.

"Be sure to vote," Dad told me at Christmas.

I would like to do more.


This is the first post for the blog, R.A.P.P.S. by Johnston M. Mitchell.
It is dedicated to his father, the late Lloyd A. Mitchell.