We were on our way to a holiday party when I decided to play some music. Miles, my son, the back-seat driver, piped up right away. He wanted to listen to "his" music-- The Lion King or some other movie soundtrack that we've heard a thousand times. Too many times.

"Nah," I said. "I'll choose something."

I popped an Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong CD into the player. "Bet you'll like it," I said.

And who wouldn't warm to the late "Satchmo" or Ella? Armstrong's guttural delivery bubbles from a spirited place in his heart. Deep, throaty, but quite soothing, too. And what hasn't been said about Ella, a jazz pioneer. It's understood why she's called the "First Lady of Song". Later on, I told Miles a little bit about the artists. I showed him some more CDs and write-ups about them. That was my Black History lesson for the day. And it wasn't even February. Now it is, so Happy Black History Month. I say that with all sincerity because for those 28 days the focus is turned toward all that is black and significant. Like clockwork, similar celebrations and observances will take place across the country. American school-age students will pen essays about Martin Luther King Jr. Classroom bulletin boards will be decorated with a civil rights timeline. There'll be displays of King and Rosa Parks, with Michael Jordan and, perhaps, Satchmo.

Urban (hence, rhythm and blues or hip-hop formats) stations will broadcast special messages of peace. We'll get snippets of King's "I Have a Dream" speech, too. Heck, there may even be a parade down Main Street.

And there's nothing wrong with any of that.

What scholar Carter G. Woodson launched in 1926 as "Negro History Week" has morphed into a relatively significant observance to highlight contributions of black folk to society.

Nothing wrong with that, either.