Occupy Jackson! to be continued..

I pull into Jackson and immediately I see the poverty and the wealth. Poor, mostly Black people walking around with shredded shoes, bundles of unidentifiable material draped around their bodies, hurrying along in the damp cold.

And huge SUV's and several hummers, with mostly white women in fur-lined wool coats holding the hands of well-dressed children tumbling out to go to the church on the corner.

I see the beautiful little park with the blue tarps, a tent, plastic bins lined up, and cardboard signs hanging from trees, bushes, and the stone wall.

There is a table out front, on the sidewalk, but the people are several feet away, inside the park under a largish stone pavilion.

I am so thrilled to meet this group of dedicated activists in the heart of Mississippi. The first man, deeply calm and thoughtful, introduces himself to me as Monzell, one of our forefathers, a civil rights activist his whole life - after he returned from Vietnam.

After Monzell shares his long and committed activist past, he tells me with a sweep of his arm, that these are his people. He finally found them.

Lindsay, a vivacious white woman, then takes me under her wing to introduce me to the other men who are there: James, a white man, is bottom-lining the overnite occupation; Albert and Trey are there everyday - have been there before, when they didn't have the city permission to sleep in the park.