I am not perfect by any means, but I do believe in the power of words, and I try daily to live my life in such a way that the words I use bring light rather than darkness.
This is good reminder.
Also, today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. Read about this year's days of remembrance theme here if you have some time.
It blows my mind that this was only 50 years ago. Mostly because we have come so far, but in my humble opinion, we have such a long ways still to go. Discrimination in any form is abhorrent and I fully believe that when any of the least of us is diminished, we are all diminished...as a human being sharing this earth with other beautiful human beings, I cannot be comfortable to just sit back and watch it happen. As Dr. King says..."No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."
If you haven't already listened to this speech today or read the text, I hope you will take the time to do so. The words have power.
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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have 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. So we have 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 quick sands 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. 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. 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. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
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 selfhood 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.
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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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, 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, 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.
This is our hope. 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.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a 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. 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 snowcapped 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 to 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!"
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
This song is beautiful, the video doesn't really do it justice, but it was the best rendition of the song I could find. Maybe just listen to it with your eyes closed.
I am grateful for Veterans every day, but tomorrow during the 11th minute of the 11th day of the 11th month I will say a special prayer and I hope everyone, no matter what your spiritual persuasion, will do so also.
The Christmas Truce of 1914 was thought to have commenced with one german soldier singing "Stille Nacht" (Silent Night)...or so the urban legend goes. Regardless, it is still a beautiful german song that brings tears to me eyes when I hear it. And I hope that you don't have to speak german to feel its pure spirit. After all it was written in german originally.
Christmas truce From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia A cross, left near Ypres in Belgium in 1999, to commemorate the site of the Christmas Truce in 1914. The text reads:1914 – The Khaki Chum's Christmas Truce – 1999 – 85 Years – Lest We Forget. Christmas truce was a series of widespread unofficial ceasefires that took place along the Western Front around Christmas of 1914, during the First World War. Through the week leading up to Christmas, parties of German and British soldiers began to exchange seasonal greetings and songs between their trenches; on occasion, the tension was reduced to the point that individuals would walk across to talk to their opposite numbers bearing gifts. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, many soldiers from both sides – as well as, to a lesser degree, from French units – independently ventured into "No man's land", where they mingled, exchanging food and souvenirs. As well as joint burial ceremonies, several meetings ended in carol-singing. Troops from both sides had also been so friendly as to play games of football with one another.[1] The truce is seen as a symbolic moment of peace and humanity amidst one of the most violent events of modern history. It was not ubiquitous, however; in some regions of the front, fighting continued throughout the day, whilst in others, little more than an arrangement to recover bodies was made. The following year, a few units again arranged ceasefires with their opponents over Christmas, but to nothing like the widespread extent seen in 1914; this was, in part, due to strongly worded orders from the high commands of both sides prohibiting such fraternisation. The truces were not unique to the Christmas period, and reflected a growing mood of "live and let live", where infantry units in close proximity to each other would stop overtly aggressive behaviour, and often engage in small-scale fraternisation, engaging in conversation or bartering for cigarettes. In some sectors, there would be occasional ceasefires to go between the lines and recover wounded or dead soldiers, whilst in others, there would be a tacit agreement not to shoot while men rested, exercised, or worked in full view of the enemy. However, the Christmas truces were particularly significant due to the number of men involved and the level of their participation – even in very peaceful sectors, dozens of men openly congregating in daylight was remarkable.
Today's Christmas post is not very cheery, but I think it is important that we remember those that have sacrificed so much...especially at this time of year.
I found the following article to be a very interesting peek into what it was like for everyone in the aftermath of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It was posted in the Honolulu Star Bulletin in 1999 as part of a historical series counting down the year to 2000.
Christmas 1941
in Hawaii was not a
time to rejoice
Martial law was in effect,
Army and Navy dependents
were evacuated and some
local Japanese were incarcerated
By Richard BorrecaStar-Bulletin
Christmas in Hawaii, 1941. The Christmas lights strung along Nuuanu Avenue, one of the main shopping districts, have all been torn down or turned off. The new bikes, wagons and dolls that would have been Christmas presents were still sitting on docks in San Francisco, shoved aside as the weapons and supplies of war were shipped to Honolulu. In San Francisco, the first shipload of evacuees from Hawaii landed on Christmas Day. Some of the women were new widows, others didn't know what happened to their husbands. Each morning on the ship, they rolled bandages and dressings for the gravely wounded from Pearl Harbor who were aboard. For most on Oahu, Christmas was a military-ordered work day. It was a time of deep worry and fear. No one wanted to be the target of another Japanese attack. "Men who in the normal course of their lives would be at home sharing the yule spirit of gladness, were working tirelessly for victory or preparing to secure it with their lives," the Honolulu Star-Bulletin said in a front-page Christmas Day commentary. First at Nuuanu Cemetery and then at other sites, the military buried more than 2,500 young men killed in Japan's Dec. 7, 1941, surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. Local gardens gave up their red poinsettias and hibiscus for small bouquets on each grave. Even as they grieved, civilians feared another invasion by Japan; indeed, enemy submarines were sporadically shelling island ports and harbors. Within a month of the attack, 20,000 Army and Navy dependents and 10,000 island women and children left Hawaii, fearing for their safety. The Matson freighter Lahaina was set ablaze by a submarine on Dec. 11, and its lifeboat did not reach Maui until Dec. 21. Another Matson freighter, the Manini, had been sunk by a torpedo. By Christmas, all islanders over age 6 were being fingerprinted. As early as 1:30 p.m. Dec. 7 -- a mere 5-1/2 hours after the attack -- printing presses had begun churning out military-issued civilian ID cards. It was a contingency the U.S. military had planned but feared: The cards were to be used to identify dead in case of another attack. Repairs begin at Pearl Harbor At Pearl Harbor, a massive salvage operation was under way. The first order was to free sailors trapped in capsized ships. With divers guided by men tapping on the ship's hulls, the last man was rescued Dec. 9, two days after the bombing. Damaged ships with functioning weapons were stripped or repaired. The Pearl Harbor dry docks ran around the clock, working so fast that two cruisers -- the Honolulu and the Helena -- were back at sea and steaming for larger repair yards in California by the first week in January. On land, in less than a week, the Army extended the Bellows Field runway from 2,200 to 4,900 feet-long enough for the largest bomber of the day to land. The military's speed was not limited to construction and repair; it also swiftly moved to control Hawaii's civilian population. Territorial Gov. Joseph Poindextersurrendered Hawaii to the military after talking to President Franklin D. Roosevelt. John Burns, a police captain in charge of the espionage bureau at the time of the attack and later Hawaii's governor, once recalled that a sobbing Poindexter called Robert Shivers, the FBI agent in charge, asking for help to preserve the Territory's own form of law. "That was amazing to me a little bit that the guy who was governor was crying and asking Shivers whether he should go along with the Army . . . he didn't particularly want to do it," Burns said later. The military powers meant the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights were no longer in effect in Hawaii: The military handed down all the laws. Loyalty questions fuel martial law Much of the reason for martial law was the military's fear that Japanese citizens and Americans of Japanese ancestry would help the enemy. Just days before Christmas, farmers next to West Loch were ordered to leave their farms by sundown. The order was later modified to give them two days. Move from Iwilei, the Japanese were told, or be shot by the military police. About 1,441 local Japanese were eventually interned: they were first sent to a hastily created detention center at Sand Island, where they were called prisoners of war. After the war, with censorship lifted, federal magistrate Judge J. Frank McLaughlin, condemned the military's action. "Gov. Poindexter declared lawfully martial law but the Army went beyond the governor and set up that which was lawful only in conquered enemy territory namely, military government which is not bound by the Constitution. And they ... threw the Constitution into the discard and set up a military dictatorship." Both military commanders at the time of the Pearl Harbor attack, Lt. Gen. Walter Short and Adm. James Kimmel, had been relieved of duty. Washington officials blamed the two for not being prepared for the attack, but later documentation showed that possible warnings of a Japanese attack were stuck in Washington, D.C., and never sent to Kimmel and Short. But military preparation did not cover everything. In the darkness of the morning after the attack, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers roared onto Punahou Schools' campus and seized it for a military camp. Debate at the time swirled that the Army actually was targeting the University of Hawaii, but turned one block early, winding up at Punahou. At 5 a.m. Dec. 8, Punahou president Oscar Shepard recounted, "The director of the cafeteria and dining room was called by the Army and ordered to provide breakfast for 750 men and was told that the facilities were being taken over, including school supplies."
High price of war
The campaign to retake the Pacific from Japan was fought in a series of battle that cost thousands of American and Japanese lives. While it is impossible to calculate the exact number of Japanese lives lost on ships and in some island battles, these figures are from U.S. military historians. Pearl Harbor: American deaths: 2,403Japanese deaths: 55 Iwo Jima: American deaths: 6,500Japanese deaths: 21,000 Guadalcanal: American deaths: 1,600Japanese deaths: 24,000 Okinawa: American deaths: 7,613Japanese deaths: 110,000 Hiroshima: Japanese deaths: 71,000 (immediate) Nagasaki: Japanese deaths: 38,000 (immediate)
