Martin Luther King, Jr. Day at Northampton Housing
Today’s Martin Luther King Jr. celebration at the Walter Salvo House (Northampton Housing Authority) was far more than a program scheduled from noon to afternoon. It was a living, breathing testament to what community looks like when people answer a call—not because it is easy or perfectly timed, but because it is necessary.
COMMENT
[Note: This report was provided by Jo Ella Tarbutton-Springfield, she is the author of record.---JH]
January 19, 2026
Organized by Jo Ella (Jada) Tarbutton-Springfield, with help from many of her friends.
Reflections of an MLK Tribute at Walter Salvo House
Jo Ella (Jada) Tarbutton-Springfield
Today’s Martin Luther King Jr. celebration at the Walter Salvo House was far more than a program scheduled from noon to afternoon. It was a living, breathing testament to what community looks like when people answer a call—not because it is easy or perfectly timed, but because it is necessary.
People showed up. And I don’t say that lightly.
Representatives from the Mayor’s Office and City Council joined residents, community partners, local educators, and neighbors. A UMass professor offered grounding words and historical context through a thoughtful introduction and lecture. We welcomed new board members, stood alongside our Acting Executive Director, and honored our maintenance crew through a Certificate of Appreciation accepted by counsel—recognizing work that is too often unseen, yet essential.
But what moved me most happened long before noon.
Three Walter Salvo residents worked nonstop for four days to make this event possible. Funding came through the Northampton Housing Authority, and because today is a federal holiday—when Highland Valley Elder Services kitchens are closed, including Meals on Wheels—our funding was contingent on feeding residents as part of this MLK observance. So we got busy. Busy in the way that leaves no room for hesitation.
As I wrote the certificates—each one individually tailored to reflect the magnitude of the work being done by individuals and groups—I found myself overwhelmed in a way I didn’t expect. I don’t cry when obstacles hit. I’m more likely to rant, push through, or swear under my breath. But sitting alone in my apartment, writing those words of appreciation, something opened. The tears came—good tears. Warm tears.
It was the realization of how much love exists. How many people quietly show up for public housing residents, for elders, for community—without fanfare or recognition. I thought of them as angels on earth. Angels in America. And it reminded me how easy it is to focus on what isn’t working, when in fact, if we truly look, the glass doesn’t just sit half full—it runneth over.
The day itself began early. At six o’clock in the morning, resident David Scott Jones was outside in the snow, barbecuing. Gas. Coals. Ribs. I don’t know—cooking is a foreign language to me. Ironically so, given my family history. Put me in another country and I’m comfortable. Put me in a grocery store and I’m lost.
David, with Southern roots in Georgia, simply said: I don’t care if there’s ten feet of snow—people inside are going to eat ribs. And that’s exactly what happened.
I stepped outside and started narrating the scene like a David Attenborough documentary—snow falling, music playing, a man tending a grill at dawn. Here we see Homo sapiens, marking territory, preparing food, ensuring survival. It was absurd and beautiful all at once.
Inside, the details mattered too. We noticed everything we couldn’t do—the floors that couldn’t be buffed because the maintenance crew had been shoveling snow all weekend, the seat covers we didn’t have time to install, the table linens that weren’t quite right. But we also noticed what was done with care.
Another resident—Heidi Sousse, affectionately known as “Kitty Cat Crazy” and our very own Martha Stewart—transformed the space with vision and warmth. Candles. Hand sanitizer. Wipes. Small touches that said: You matter.
It was the three of us—three amigas, three musketeers—working like mad. And unexpectedly, the Chair of the Housing Authority stepped in as well. Last-minute errands. Mac and cheese. Fruit platters. Picking up remarks. Copying agendas. Done. That kind of showing up stays with you.
By noon, people were arriving—some I hadn’t even expected could make it, given the short notice. Yet they came. Councilor Jeremy Dubs. Mayor Gina-Louise Sciarra. At-large City Councilor Garrick Perry—an artist, musician, reparations advocate, and the second Black man to serve on the City Council—whose presence and work we were proud to recognize.
We honored residents like Alex Silkwolfe, whose solitary acts of cleaning the city sparked what is now Clean-Up Salvo, a growing community organizing effort that continues to build pride and connection—even as we wait for the snow to clear.
Northampton Neighbors brought a cake emblazoned with I Have a Dream. They helped last year too, navigating layers of regulations and red tape that often make spontaneous acts of community care difficult. Sometimes, these moments require immediacy. You don’t always get a month to apply for compassion.
Two weeks ago, I didn’t expect to be doing this. I assumed the Salvo LTO had plans. Then a former professor—Sarah Lennox, now part of the Northampton Neighbors Inclusion Committee—called and asked, What are we doing? And that was it.
Where I come from, we call it a call to duty. Maybe it’s my Southern roots. Maybe it’s growing up Southern Baptist. When you’re called, you answer. Even when you’re tired. Even when time is short. Especially then.
Between meetings, Zoom calls balanced on my steering wheel, grocery runs, last-minute announcements, and waiting for David to finish cooking and take a quick shower—we held the line. We didn’t eat until he returned. Because this was about respect.
And when the room filled—with conversation, recognition, laughter, and gratitude—it became clear: this wasn’t just a celebration of Dr. King’s legacy. It was an expression of it.
Service. Dignity. Collective responsibility. Love made visible.
That is what I will carry forward from today.
The theater person in me, of course, noticed the imperfections. The white chair covers we didn’t have time to put on. The paper table coverings standing in for matching linen ones because Amazon couldn’t deliver them until Wednesday. In another setting, those details might have registered as flaws. Here, they simply marked the pace of real people doing real work under real constraints.
What filled the room instead was care. Kitty Kat Krazy—our Martha Stewart Meow Meow—set faux candles glowing on every table. Small jars of breath mints sat beside scented hand wipes, hand sanitizer, and neatly folded packets of tissues. A gentle spray of lavender drifted through the space, not as decoration but as a quiet mood stabilizer—an unspoken welcome.
Each table held the day’s agenda, printed with a classic photograph of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Flyers were posted at the entrance doors and arranged on the podium we borrowed from the Northampton Recovery Center—simple, practical gestures that said: this matters. Even the borrowed pieces carried intention.
Only three of us had four days to bring this entire event into being. Four days to plan, gather, improvise, and trust. What emerged was not defined by what we lacked, but by what was unmistakably present—thoughtfulness, dignity, and love expressed through the smallest, most human details.
The lecture that anchored the program was offered by Toussaint Losier, Director of the Social Thought and Political Economy Program and Associate Professor in the W.E.B. Du Bois Department of Afro-American Studies at University of Massachusetts Amherst. He joined us last year as well, and once again brought depth, grounding, and moral clarity to the room.
In introducing him, I named what felt essential to say: that this observance was centered on honoring maintenance workers and essential workers, and that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in April 1968 while organizing sanitation workers in Memphis. With my mind stretched thin after days of nonstop preparation, Professor Losier took the helm—and carried us. His words did what sermons are meant to do: they steadied us, reminded us not to give up, and called us back to purpose. When he repeated, don’t give up, the room answered in spirit—and aloud.
In the rush and intensity of pulling this together in just four days, there were two omissions that matter to name. I neglected to present a Certificate of Appreciation to Professor Losier, despite the significance of his contribution. I also failed to present a certificate recognizing the first Northampton Housing Authority Local Tenant Organization at Forsander—a milestone that deserves its own acknowledgment. These were not oversights of value, but of capacity in a moment that required constant motion. Both recognitions will be made right, because the work they represent matters.
The tables were set, and David came downstairs and began laying out the food. Andrew Jenkins—a Salvo resident and what I affectionately call the Salvo singer—started setting up his music. There was a small crossing of messages: Andrew thought the program began at two o’clock, which was the time reserved for residents’ FaceTime access, while the public program itself ran from noon to two. That meant there wasn’t time for a full sound check. But none of that mattered. Andrew performed beautifully, as he always does.
Unbeknownst to him, I had arranged a Certificate of Appreciation in his name. If I had told him ahead of time, he would never have accepted it. So instead, I called out, “Andrew—come on down here.” The look on his face said everything. He has shown up again and again whenever there is an event, lending his voice without hesitation. That quiet consistency deserved to be honored.
We then moved into the formal opening of the program with a lecture by Toussaint Losier, a professor from University of Massachusetts Amherst, who also joined us last year. In introducing him, I shared that this gathering was intentionally centered on honoring maintenance workers and essential workers—those whose labor sustains our communities, often without recognition. I spoke briefly about Dr. King’s final campaign, reminding the room that he was assassinated in April 1968 while organizing sanitation workers in Memphis.
By that point, my mind was fried. Four days of nonstop planning will do that. So Professor Toussaint took the helm—and he carried us.
I couldn’t recount every word he spoke, but I remember exactly how it felt. It was like being back in church on a Sunday morning in the South, listening to my grandfather preach. You don’t analyze. You don’t interrupt. You sit, you listen, and you let the spirit move through you. That’s what happened in that room.
I remember him saying, Don’t give up. Don’t give up.
And from my seat, I called back, We won’t give up.
Afterward, we transitioned the only way that made sense—by eating together. Plates were passed out, the line formed, and conversation softened. And as always, when David Jones cooks, the room grows quiet. Not out of ceremony—but because people are too busy savoring the food.
In that moment, surrounded by full plates, full hearts, and shared silence, I understood again what this day had truly been about. Not perfection. Not polish. But presence. Community. And the kind of nourishment—spiritual and literal—that carries people forward.
Jada presented recognition awards to many of the members of the Northampton community.
A surprise recognition for Jada
In the Spirit of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, the Northampton Housing Authority Recognizes and honors on this day, January 19th in the year 2026,
Jada, Mega Community Leader
Is recognized for her undying devotion to service and her community, even in the face of her critics she presses on getting into “good” trouble and winning battles have little energy or know how to wage. She is a force of naure, a turblent storm for the greater good, ever dutiful and clad with the armor of integrity Jada is the esseence of Dr. Martin Luther King Jer.’s legacy with her battle cries for justice she marches on tirelessly.
Sharon Kimble, Acting Executive Director ~~ Heidi Sousse, Walter Salvo Resident Leader
On behalf of the Stop Bullying Coalition, I (Jerry Halberstadt) thank my friend, Jada—Jo Ella Tarbutton-Springfield—and so many tenants, staff, and Northampton neighbors for the example of building community and seeking justice that this memorial celebration represents.
Life in Northampton Public Housing has been challenging. You now have begun to build a better community, working together. As we honor Martin Luther King, let us honor his legacy by the way we treat each other with respect and overcome our differences as we join to fight for justice.
Martin Luther King worked towards national and universal justice.
MLK would be proud of the work you are doing here.
May other housing communities follow your example.
MLK means justice.
What do we want? Justice.
When do we want it? Now.