I am no fan of Black History Month because one month is not enough to devote to the history of black folk in the world. But February 2005 presented an opportunity to demonstrate how history lives. It leaves us with the challenge not just to wax nostalgic, but to act on the kinds of issues raised by the folks whose names have become historic in it.

In this case, Ossie Davis, who died Feb. 4, and Malcolm X, who was assassinated 40 years ago on Feb. 21, 1965.

Something in the cosmos had Ossie, who eulogized Malcolm when many others were ducking and covering in 1965, dying near the anniversary of Malcolm’s death, and Malcolm’s eldest daughter eulogizing her adopted “Uncle Ossie.”

Nine days before his death, Ossie talked of delivering eulogies and attending funerals with Tavis Smiley on PBS. “Affairs like this,” he foretold, “give us a chance to revisit our heroes and to get our priorities back in shape and in order, so that as we move forward, we move with a sense of direction and purpose.”

Black history was clearly on display at Davis’ home-going services — academics like Cornel West and Michael Eric Dyson, performers like Cicely Tyson and Jessye Norman, powerbrokers like Vernon Jordan and Percy Sutton and Richard Parsons, civil rights leaders like Kweisi Mfume and Ted Shaw, politicians like Charles Rangel and David Dinkins and Virginia Fields.

That is black history present, not history past.

And there were artists who, like Davis, believe that art and activism go hand in hand: Spike Lee, Danny Glover, Courtney Vance, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Roger Guenveur Smith, Ruben Santiago-Hudson. Lynn Whitfield. Sean “P. Diddy” Combs. And so many more. They were there for Ossie and for the statement their presence made. One could sense that this next generation is ready to step up.

In his death, he shed a light on the struggles of blacks in theater. Plays like August Wilson’s “Gem of the Ocean” shut down prematurely because of trouble finding audiences within the timelines of their producers. Black folk don’t have the money; white people don’t have the interest.

“Black theater talks, and it must talk about our oppression,” Woodie King of the New Federal Theatre told me. “And white people don’t want to go and pay $75 to hear about our oppressions.”

Lots of black theaters can use support. In the spirit of Ossie — and his life partner, Ruby Dee — do so.

The museum honoring Malcolm and his wife, Betty Shabazz, opens on the site of his assassination, the Audubon Ballroom, in May. Support it, too.

Keep black history living, not preserved like a raisin in the sun in the shortest month of the year.