I Have a Dream, by Phillip Hoyle

I was asked to contact Colorado Public Radio for an interview—something related to the anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr’s, “I Have a Dream” sermon. I heard that speech on television. I believe I watched it in Clay Center, Kansas. We moved there in 1962, the summer before I entered my sophomore year of high school. I loved the strongly rhetorical and emotional delivery of this handsome African American preacher. The move from an Army town with integrated schools to a small all-white county seat town made me race-conscious in a wholly new way. The presence of deep racial prejudice against coloreds in that rural setting seemed misplaced. These people seemed more prejudiced in their white society. They didn’t know the reality of working with, studying with, or playing with people of color. They didn’t have Negro friends or acquaintances. Dr. King’s call for an American vision of racial equality and justice rang true in my ears. I truly missed my African American class mates like Yolanda Dozier, Jay Self, Oscar Smith, Harlene Gilliam, and even Von Quinn. I missed packing groceries for the many African-American customers at the store. Like an ancient Hebrew prophet, King was calling the presumably Judeo-Christian America to repentance, to get right with God, to find justice by providing justice in every town from sea to shining sea. His voice rang true to biblical tradition. I was thrilled. A preacher was saying these things with great courage and creativity. He seemed a kind of hero for me.

I admired this man, agreed with his gospel, and had no perspective how this liberation movement would eventually spell freedom for me. Still, his voice alerted me to human potential and the need for social change in our country and towns. But the life of a teen, the day-to-day discoveries, the forging of a fledgling adult identity, the move towards jobs and careers intervened. I knew I had music, knew I had a religious motivation, but knew only one church that while it was not sectarian by intent, was often sectarian in practice. I dove deeply into its tides of education, ministry, work, and identity. Sadly like the county seat town, it too was mostly white, missed the richness of racial diversity and leadership. Still, king’s themes colored my reading, my concerns, my sense of myself, and kept me open to this larger and smaller vision of freedom. So now I am going to celebrate it on public radio. Is this a grand opportunity? It certainly presents a challenge for creativity, heart, ardor, and love not only for me but for America with its growing diversity and wilting idealism.

To the young I say listen to the creative, challenging, opening voice within. Never let go of its potential. Let it guide you down creative paths of participation in your personal and public life. Keep open to the way it can inform your decisions in the changing adult experiences related to age, relationships, and social change. Honor the voices of democracy, justice, and love. Recognize the responsibilities of freedom, the partial realization of advancement, the constant tendency not to share, and the ever-present fears. Build communities of loving support but not at the cost of forgetting the larger picture. Always the larger picture. You are in it. It is in you.


The interview brought together a young gay man and an old one (me). Hear it at www.cpr.org/news/audio/two-gay-men-two-different-generations


Denver, © 2013

About the Author

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com