Coretta Scott King died today.

She was 78.

She lived over half her life as a widow, true to the memory of her husband, Martin Luther King Jr. She became a symbol of his movement, and sometimes a symbol of how we had fallen short of his ideals.

Coretta stood behind the King Center for Nonviolent Social Change, and saw it grow into Atlanta's leading tourist attraction. It's not the Aquarium, it's not the Zoo, it's not the World of Coca-Cola. It's the King Center that brings people to Atlanta, from Japan, from China, from Europe and South America. People save for years so that, on a Sunday morning, they can walk (or be ridden) under the freeway to the east end of Auburn Avenue, so they can see his tomb, then walk to the home where he grew up.

If you get a chance, today or tomorrow, drop by the link in the paragraph above, and listen. It's about the idea of service, and the greatness of service. Coretta Scott King lived a life of service, and anyone can.

Now, as to what she did for me...

There is a myth, which began during his lifetime, that Martin Luther King Jr. was a poor man, and that his wife was a poor woman.

This is a lie. By the standards of their time and their race they were wealthy, and grew up that way. By the standards of our time they were middle class. They grew up in strong families, who taught them strong values, and they lived according to those values.

Their example -- her example -- led me to understand, when I first came to Atlanta, in 1981, that there was nothing to fear in moving to a "black" part of town. If the houses were nice, and well-kept, I knew, the people in those houses would, most of them, be good, decent, hard-working folks.

Fact is they were better than that. The people I ived with here on Winter Avenue were saints.

John Flint. John Shanks. Nellie Harris. Henry Gary. Rufus Kight. James Maddox Each taught me lessons in true greatness, which I live with every day:

• John Flint lived to 102. He raised 8 kids, without a bum in the lot. He served the same employer for 60 years. The son of a slave, he taught generations of young southern girls, daughters of Jim Crow, that a black man isn't always the equal of a white man, that sometimes he's his better.
  
• John Shanks helped found the DeKalb NAACP, at a time when such actions would get you killed. Denied his rights under the G.I. Bill (he wanted a career in TV repair that my own father hated), he got those rights for his kids. And he never made mention of any of it to me. He was just the President of our block club, who kept our meager funds in a sock, and who made sure, when he knew his time was coming, that the club would live on.
  
• Nellie Harris performed miracles. I saw her do Jesus' miracle of the loaves and fishes several times, before my own eyes. And she was always thankful, for everything. Even when she was dieing, of lung cancer, though she never smoked (although her husband did) she praised God, and thanked us all for the gifts of her life.
  
• Henry Gary was a deacon of his church, a strong, righteous man who prayed hard, who raised his children to be strong citizens, and who loved his wife dearly.
  
• Rufus Kight was my friend. His prayers would sometimes run on-and-on, but he had a laugh as big as all outdoors. He loved life, he loved his wife, and his children still honor his memory.
  
• James Maddox raised 10 kids (some of them adopted) in a cracker-box of a home no more than 1,300 square feet. He raised them on a custodian's salary, augmented by weekends recycling metal. He was a great friend to my neighbor Cantrell Johnson.

These are just some of the Saints I knew who have passed away. There are others still living. Mr. Johnson, of course. Reverend Moore. Mrs. Shanks, Mrs. Kight, and Mrs. Gary. Mrs. Leak, who cared for her mother until she herself was nearly 80. Edna House, who was John Flint's eldest and is now in her 90s, who has nursed to their deaths her husband, father, sister, and now a daughter, as well as countless strangers, but who has never given in to self-pity, and has always kept faith with her God and with life.

These people and more came into my life because Mrs. King took away my fear, and by her example encouraged me to live among them. Other than my own wife and children, they are the greatest treasures of my life, their examples the great teachers.

So don't mourn Coretta Scott King. She is out of pain, she was always true, and she is back in her loving husband's arms again. Thank her, praise her, remember her, emulate her if you can. And bless her for me.