Monday

[chochiyo_sama]

I need a massage.  One of those really deep muscle massages.  Or traction.  I think traction would work too.  Or maybe a short, gentle session on the rack.  The muscles in my lower back are so freaking tight (and as a result are so freaking painful) that I want to scream.  I think it is being caused by a combination of a poor chair at work and also by the tightening of my muscles in my back while using the cane for my knee.  I just feel like I need to be stretched out so that all those vertebrae down there pop and get some space between them again.  It feels like they are squished together so hard and tight that it's nuts.

Putting in a full day at school was tiring.  Last week we didn't have a full day of school at all.  It was a nice little break, but now it is really fucking up the end of the quarter for me.  Quite a few kids skipped school today, which was annoying since they had several days and partial days off LAST week.  I KNOW they didn't skip because of conscientiously objecting to having school on Martin Luther King day--though that was the reason they were all whining about being there.  I was getting very tired of hearing all the whining--especially since they are done with the week on Thursday at noon.  Sigh.

Speaking of MLK, Happy Birthday, Great One.  Your Dream, the one you shared with us all, feels like it is close at hand.  The world is filled with Possibilities right now.  I have Hope--which has been in very short supply in the last eight years.  I hope that somewhere in the afterlife world, MLK is smiling down on us all tomorrow.

Now to return to the discussion of school--there was no food service today, since the public school (where we contract our lunches from) was closed.  Jay opened campus for everyone so that they could go and get food.  However, some don't drive and many didn't have any cash.  So, despite the fact that I had responsibly packed a lunch the night before, I ordered two large pizzas from Godfathers--a meat lovers' pizza and a vegetarian one. (I hate meat on my pizza, for the most part--I did like that bacon cheese burger pizza I recently had from Country Pizza).  Originally it was meant for Shane, Claire, and me.  Then Brenda G asked if she could have some.  She's such a sweet kid.  Ultimately, it was all eaten.  Shane and Brenda said they'd bring money tomorrow--Claire may have as well, I don't recall, but I am not going to take any from them.  One day, when I am starving and they have abundant food, they can give me some.  I like to be able to treat the kids from time to time.  I love them.  The whiny little brats.  LOL.  (Just teasing).

Eryn and Doug gave their senior sem presentations today.  Jessica turned in her research paper.  Jamilynn and Jessica were both ready to give their presentations too, but we were having computer "technical problems." 

During lunch, I made a pipe cleaner chameleon which turned out cute.  Not as cute as the picture I was going by to make it, but it was cute

I should have taken a picture of it to post here, but didn't.  Ah, well.  Tomorrow is another day.

When I go home, I got the kitchen floor swept and scrubbed.  It was quite the ordeal as I suddenly had to pee, but I knew that when I went upstairs,  I would be STAYING upstairs.  I managed to get the kitchen floor both swept and scrubbed and just barely made it upstairs before I totally peed my pants. 

Because my back hurt so much (and because I felt grungy), I took a nice, hot bubble bath.  It was very soothing.  After that, I was cold, so I crawled under the covers and petted Komet.  I fell asleep and didn't wake up until 10:30.  I held her in my lap for several minutes, then I decided I better update my live journal.

Nothing too exciting to report today.

I'd like to end today's post by putting this out there--it has inspired me for years.  Even though I sometimes use it hyperbolically, I respect it, and MLK is one of my personal heroes.  I believe this is one of the most important speeches of the modern era--and though it is advocating for the Black peoples, I believe we need to apply it to all humanity.  We MUST work together.  We CANNOT stop or turn back.  We MUST move forward, always, in love and brotherhood.  We must learn to see that we are more alike, all of us, than we are different.

Here it is--the "I Have a Dream" speech.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

                Free at last! Free at last!

 

 

 

 

                Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

Comments

That is so fitting.

[the_godiva]

I watching some BBC archive of an interview with MLK jr. on when we'd see a black president. Robert Kennedy had predicted 40 years. (This was 1964) MLK jr. said sooner, within 25 years. Robert was closer. It took....44 years.

I can't wait until tomorrow.

Your back. Try a chiropractor. And....stop bending over a lot and don't lift anything over 20 lbs.

Ramses and I visited Candy for an hour. She's much better; more like her old self. Happy face dog.

I finished organizing my patterns and my supplies. I found a bunch of circular knitting needles I forgot I had. Everything is together in one place now. Hopefully I won't be buying duplicates of anything I already have. I'll be sending those extra books to you eventually.

I've got my car packed for tomorrow. The computer will be last to go. I'm using it to broadcast the inaugural in the library. I'll get up a little early and make my lunch fresh.

And if your students bring money to pay for their pizza...take it. It will make them feel responsible (and feel good). You can always put it aside to help defray future costs of treats.

[daisycake.livejournal.com]

thankyou again for lunch :) i will be coming to your room at 12:05, i want to watch a bit of the inauguration!