column on the depth of individual lives

One of the things I appreciate about the Alton area is the amount and quality of music, often free music, available. In listening to artists, but trying never to dance, I ran into an elderly gentleman who would dance with younger ladies or, if he were so inclined, would gracefully saunter along to the music by himself. We called him black hat, as he usually wore one. We chatted on occasion, and every once in while a powerful intelligence would peek through his practiced routines. I hadn’t seen him for a while, and J. Christopher Vaught of Mondinband, posted on Facebook a notice of his death. Then, I was led into another world of understanding.

He was a scientist. He had a master’s degree in genetics from Notre Dame. He had a medical degree form Wayne State, and his PhD was in neonatal anatomy from Ohio State. In other words, he was one of the best-educated people I have ever met. He worked at the VA and as a pathologist and medical examiner for years. He wrote books on pathology and authored around 100 scholarly articles. He was married for years, and he and his wife raised ten children. He was a runner and played a number of musical instruments. That explained his fascination with guitar styles that he would relay at some length.

Not long ago, I noticed that Lewis and Clark named a building near St Patrick’s church, near St. Claire’s, after Scott Bibb. Since I moved here in 2011, I take it for granted that I know little of Alton history. It did not take me long to find out about him. He had two school age children. Illinois had passed a law prohibiting school segregation in 1874. (After all, Illinois had a set of “Black Code” laws prior to the 14^th amendment.). By the time his children were school age, in the late 19^th century, Alton built 2 new schools for African-American children. His children were told not to attend the nearby Washington school, but a new school, the Lovejoy school, that was assigned to children of color. (Note the name: a school intended for separation was name for the great abolitionist.) While white children entered the school, the police stopped African-American children from entering their previous school and directed them to the segregated school.

Mr. Bibb went to court and lost a jury trial. His case was appealed to the Illinois Supreme Court. This issue went on for 7 cases and 5 appellate decisions. Over and over Alton schools and the courts refused to follow the order of the Illinois supreme court. In the last lost appeal, the city officials insisted that the ruling could apply on the named plaintiffs, Mr. Bibb’s children. The residents being pushed to the new segregated schools launched protest, raised money for the court fight, and even boycotted the schools to which they were being forced to attend.

We do not realize the depth of ordinary people. Indeed, most people remain an utter mystery to us. Even family members, maybe especially family members, get lost is n a haze of role, ritual, and vague recollection.  We all harbor depths unfathomed. I just officiated at a funeral. We have it in our power to record family histories, to appreciate the depth and scope of our lives. Story Corps has a set of guidelines for families to collect oral histories. May we live into our eulogies? Memorials for Dr. Corrigan can be made to the Salesian missions, and I would think that Lewis and Clark would be grateful for donations made to its Bibb Center, a fitting memorial to a man who fought so long to have educational opportunity available to all citizens. May our lives be worthy of memorials as well.