The release of and acclaim for the “Black Panther” movie along with recent interest in black radical movements brought back vivid memories from my late 1960s college days in Berkeley when the newly organized Black Panther Party was a strong presence in nearby Oakland.  In particular I was reminded of the following rather odd encounter.

During one of those sunny spring mornings in a room I’d rented high in the Berkeley hills, I received an unexpected phone call from Greil Marcus, long time friend and Rolling Stone magazine editor who lived just around the corner. 

As you may have heard, during recent discussions on America immigration policy, President Donald J. Trump exclaimed that what the U.S.A. truly needs is not more people from “shithole” countries like those in the Caribbean, South America and Africa, but newcomers from “Norway.”  When I heard this I thought to myself, “Hey, I know some Norwegians!  I should let them know about a fabulous opportunity that awaits them.”  After all, my own grandmother came to the States from Norway in the late 19th century after the family fishing boat was lost at sea with her father and brothers aboard.   The remaining family members sent poor teenaged “Lina” to live with an aunt in Spokane.  Hence, I myself am part Norwegian and we’ve flourished here.