Hundreds come together at Stark Park in unity, emotions raw ‘to overrun the haters with love’

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The crowd trickled in slowly, masked to the teeth, quiet, nervous and humble, standing or sitting quietly on the green grass as the vigil coordinators unpacked the speakers and mics, the waters and more masks.

I saw not one person without a mask on.

Myself, I too was masked, sadly, because less than a half-hour before my arrival at Stark Park to pay witness and tribute to the wasted life of Minnasotian, George Floyd, I had engulfed three pieces of a four-layer Taco Bake at home.  The blowback from my burps inside the mask were unfathomable.  I nearly left the gathering, crossed-eyed from the stank of the boiled cheese and beef.

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Carrying on, as clusters of good souls holding signs of remembrance and encouragement gathered around the beautiful stage, the music began to bark and my chest tightened with emotion.

“We Are The World” started to play and that song just gets me every time.  Perfectly constructed, chock full of musical legends, each making their mark on a song that will be listened to 100 years from now.

As a kick-off song, the “mood maker,” well, DJ Henderson was getting it done.

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Soon after blared “Come Together,” a staple.  And then, what I felt was a bit of a departure, “Living In America” by James Brown rang out.  Brown I love, the song is strong like a bull.  But bustin’ down the superhighway half-drunk on black coffee coming into Detroit City, just felt a touch out of place.

It’s the DJ in me that makes me a stickler for rhythm.

Plus, there were bigger things to focus on. Like the group of young people that got up on stage, that organized this whole event, with help of the Manchester Police and the city of Manchester.

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These young men and women blew me away.  Each had a role, a message to deliver, whether personal or borrowed or written as poetry.  Gutsy, confident in their fury for justice, for change, each was measured and pronounced.  You heard it, felt it, 60 yards away, as they told their tales about their experience with racism here and beyond throughout their young lives.

They’re sick of it.  Sick of being followed around a convenience store every day. Sick of having to remember being called the “N” word back in second grade.  Sick of having to explain to their 12-year old sister how not to get arrested when they leave the house. Sick of having a 3.7 GPA in college and still being looked at as a dirty thug.

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That’s too much for a young person to endure.  Racism rots the soul, of the giver and taker.  And these kids could have swayed off course and riled up a few people in the crowd for what they have put up with.  They were raw.  They were emotional.  And it doesn’t take much to get the pushers pushing.  But each speaker dug deep and held on to the real reason we were all here, and that was to overrun the haters with love.  Drown them out, from the Queen City to California, with unity.

And according to our President, at times, with tear gas.

But each person that spoke was unique and strong even when they swayed.  One of the speakers, a young man, was on the verge of getting angry, it seemed.  Fed up constantly trying to push down the fire in his belly, he spoke, not just of George Floyd, but all the George Floyds who have come and gone, been beaten or worse, by all kinds of evil men, for being a different color.

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But the young man contained himself, exposed his emotions, buckled a touch, then was greeted with a group hug by an adoring crowd of maybe 700 people of all colors and ages that didn’t give a damn what hue he was crowned.

He finished like a rock star, with deep applause and a choir of hopeful onlookers, supporters, a small legion of believers, pulling for his future, condemning his past and vowing, once again, to come together as one to end this bullshit once and for all.

Things look promising, believe it or not.

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Rob Azevedo from Manchester is a radio host and writer. His new book “Notes From The Last Breath Farm” is on Amazon, The Bookery and Gibsons Books