My two-cents worth and then some. An online journal by LP Brown.
On this day in 1960 – Lucille and Abon Bridges, the parents of Ruby Bridges, responded to the call of the NAACP and volunteered their six year old 
daughter to participate in the integration of the New Orleans School System. Protected by U.S. Marshals, Rudy was the lone black child to enroll at the William Frantz Elementary School and the first black child to attend an all white elementary school in the south. As the Marshals led Rudy into the school, crowds of angry whites threw tomatoes and other objects at the young girl and called her names. Once she was inside white parents began withdrawing their children from the school. White teachers at the school quit their jobs rather than teach a black student. Only one white teacher, Barbara Henry, from Boston, a newcomer to the city and the school, was willing to teach Rudy. For over a year Rudy was the only student in Mrs. Henry’s class and just like her young student, each day the teacher had to pass through mobs of protesters shouting racist insults and threats. Rudy’s first school day was depicted by artist Norman Rockwell in a famous painting titled The Problem We All Live With. Life Magazine published a two-page illustration of the painting in 1964. It is one of Rockwell’s most famous works.
In 1995, Rudy worked as a volunteer at Frantz, her old alma mater, that’s when Robert Coles was inspired to publish The Story of Ruby Bridges, a children’s book about her. It was the first book of its kind, to take a subject like racism and try to explain it to children. The book became a bestseller.
In 1996, 35 years after she integrated Frantz, Rudy reunited with her former teacher, Barbara Henry, on The Oprah Winfrey Show.
In 1999, Rudy published Through My Eyes, her own account of her days at Frantz. The book won numerous literary prizes.
In October, 2006, the city of Alameda Unified School District dedicated a new elementary school to Ruby Bridges, and issued a proclamation in her honor.
Ruby Bridges, now Ruby Bridges Hall, still lives in New Orleans.
I occasionally hear people wondering aloud about why other people write messages to the dead. Those who question the act say it is irrational because, they reason, the departed cannot read the notices directed to them. But open any daily newspaper to the Obituaries page and you will likely find “In Memoriam” tucked among the Death Notices. Those sentimental ads containing poems, acknowledgement of anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions give credence to the Latin phrase which means “in the memory of.”
Grief is a strange animal and we all react to it in our own unique way. Consider funerals for instance. They are certainly no laughing matter – but with all due respect – some of us can recall at least one funeral that had comic relief.
Imagine a pastor has enthusiastically rendered the eulogy and is seated in the pulpit, dabbing his sweaty forehead with a folded white handkerchief. The senior choir, looking solemn in their funeral robes, is swaying side-to-side with the precision of a pendulum clock, as they croon the fourth stanza of a long, tear-jerking hymn. Amazingly, cousin Grace who is sitting in the pews, jumps to her feet and lets out an earsplitting scream. Her shoulder-shaking sobs resonate throughout the church as people seated nearby gently pull her back onto the bench and try to calm her. Meanwhile, across the aisle, another woman leaps up. Spreading her arms toward Heaven she snaps her head back, inadvertently knocking off her wide-brimmed, peacock feather hat, sending it onto the lap of the person behind her. Her own blood-curding wails fill the air, as white-uniformed ushers carrying Jesus paper fans rush to aid both women.
Switch your mental channel to another, less dramatic service. It is equally as reverent, but more upbeat. A local band follows the brief eulogy with a performance of Kirk Franklin’s Brighter Day, and some family members and guests take turns making a joyful noise as they share laugher and humorous anecdotes about the deceased, celebrating a buoyant home going for their loved one.
All things considered, it is understandable that heavyhearted souls express the loss of a loved one in their own way. Some place flowers annually on a gravesite or toast with a shot of wine, others write In Memoriam.