Two indelible days with Rev. C.T. Vivian

The things that change your life you never really expect. I give N.C. State a lot of credit for where I am today in my life and career. As the first person in my immediate family to attend college, I was unprepared for the sheer volume of information and experience. It’s said most learning takes place outside the classroom. As a student leader at State, my experience confirmed that. I could not have asked for more.

When Rev. C.T. Vivian passed away a few weeks ago, one experience in particular came rushing back. Thirty-four years ago, I spent two days tucked away with Vivian and 20 student leaders. N.C. State’s Department of Student Development offered select student leaders the chance to attend a retreat with Vivian to discuss race, equality and humanity. I’m told the department spent $1,000 per student for the experience. That was adult money back then!

Vivian was known to many as the “Field General” to Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights movement. He taught non-violent protest, led sit-ins and Freedom Rides throughout the South and organized right to vote campaigns. And he paid the price. It’s an understatement to say I had no idea at the time how lucky I was to have that experience.

Those were pre-internet days, so I didn’t really know who Vivian was, other than someone important. He introduced himself, but based upon what I know now, he didn’t do a very good job. Let’s just say he was humble. Regardless, he spent the next two days challenging everything we thought we knew about race, racism, equality, gender and humanity. He started each session by playing a recording of “Just Like You” by Oz Smith, as we read along from a handout. I saved a copy of it from all those years ago. I don’t know where he got the poem or who Oz Smith is, because I can’t find information about either of them. All I know is that it provided the perfect framework for Vivian’s core message: I am a man. Just like you.

The poem said, in part, “I’m nobody, I’m just somebody who’s trying to be a man, just like you. Trying to love a woman, just like you. Trying to watch sons and daughters grow, just like you. Trying to farm, just like you. Trying to build and live and smile and work, just like you.”

After the first day I couldn’t sleep. I wandered around the retreat center and found Vivian relaxing and reading. He invited me to join him and for the next two hours, we talked about life. He gave me advice I’ve carried with me to this day. I told him how I was going to change the world and how hard I was going to work for equality. He admonished, “Don’t be arrogant.” According to ancient Jewish tradition and teaching, he said, none of us was obligated to complete the task. We were also not free to avoid it. He assured me my work would be important, but I had to trust future generations to take up the task, just as he was trusting in me.

I wondered why someone like him was content to spend time with students like us. After all, he could be anywhere, doing anything. Yet, he said he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life working with young people, because that’s the only way he knew to change the world. There’s no telling how many thousands of students he worked with over the years, giving the same, gentle advice.

To N.C. State, thank you again for everything. As for Vivian, yes, he was a man, just like me. But there will not be another one like him.

This story was originally published August 3, 2020 at 12:00 AM.