Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you. . .Saturday, August 30, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
45 Years Ago today. . .
Today is the 45th anniversary of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, delivered from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington in 1963.
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 dramatise a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a cheque. 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 colour are concerned. Instead of honouring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad cheque, a cheque 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 cheque - a cheque 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 tranquilising 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 tranquillity 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 marvellous 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 realise that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realise 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 colour 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!"
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 dramatise a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a cheque. 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 colour are concerned. Instead of honouring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad cheque, a cheque 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 cheque - a cheque 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 tranquilising 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 tranquillity 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 marvellous 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 realise that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realise 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 colour 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!"
Friday, August 22, 2008
And when I got back to the car park -refreshments awaited!
As I prepare to descend back to the car park I take one last loving look at the three peaks -(l to r) Corn du, Pen y Fan and Cribyn
Neuadd Reservoir
After negotiating the three peaks I still had to walk around this reservoir
Beginning the ascent of Cribyn -although the lowest is was very steep at the top
A group of Germans got to the peak moments before I did -one of them took the photograph of me
Looking from Corn Du to the second and highest peak -Pen y Fan
At the summit of Corn Du 
Sheep are everywhere in the Brecon Beacons
At the summit of Pen y FanThe Beacons Circuit
Do you know how annoying it is to be invited over to someone's house thinking you just going to get a great meal and then in you are forced to go to the living room after the meal and are shown boring slides of a recent vacation. Invariably the photographs are of landscapes and the photographer keeps reminding you, "This photo really doesn't do it justice." Well, this is my slide show and you don't even get a meal.
I completed the 11 mile/3 peak challenge in 6 hrs and 20 minutes. I am loading this blog immediately after returning because I'm trying to stay awake to call Maurene in Peoria. My feet are quite sore, but no blisters! And yes, the photos don't do the walk justice. Since Mark, Bobbie, Grif and Lauren have been in the Welsh mountains I hope one of them will attest (in the comment section) to the fact that photos don't really show the severity of the slopes or the beauty of that region of Wales. If they do not I won't invite them over for dinner anymore! For that slide show effect always double click on the photograph!!!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Food for my Brecon Beacon's trek. . .Tomorrow I set out to walk the Brecon Beacon's circuit. The 11 mile walk encompasses three peaks in the Brecon Beacon National Park (including Pen y Fan) the highest peak in the UK south of Snowdonia. Of course my caloric intake won't match the 12,000 of Michael Phelps but I thought some of you who regularly visit my blog might be interested in what I am taking.
2 Peanut butter and blackberry jam sandwiches
1 ham and cheese sandwich with mustard (not Cleveland -we don't waste it on such journeys)
5 slices of cheddar cheese
2 bags of crisps
a bag of clementines
1 container of raisins
a bag of Honey Nut Cheerios
a half bag of Maltesers (I ate half whilst packing)
1 container of water
1 container of high energy drink (and perhaps a Fosters for a celebratory drink at the top)
If you notice, I also included the sandwich bags in the photo. They are green bags made out of glucose for instant energy and so that you don't leave trash on the trail.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sing it, Judy. . .We have been in a consistent weather pattern for the last two weeks -a mixture of showers and brief periods of sunshine. Today, the two came together to form a double rainbow. I stepped into the front garden to take this photograph before heading off to The Weston (yes, Mark, that Weston). Maurene is probably somewhere in the air over the Midwest before landing in Chicago and taking the bus to Peoria for her conference on Compulsive Gambling. It is rather quiet around the manse, but I have plenty to do to keep me busy. Double click on the photo to see the second fainter rainbow.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I just discovered Wordle. . .
Wordle is a toy for generating “word clouds” from text that you provide. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text. You can tweak your clouds with different fonts, layouts, and color schemes. The images you create with Wordle are yours to use however you like. You can print them out, or save them to the Wordle gallery to share with your friends.To see what a recent sermon of mine looks like on Wordle click here. I might just start passing these out to the congregation on Sunday. Then they won't have to listen to me.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
The summit of Pen y Fan
Yr Un Mawr!*
Last year I played 54 holes of golf in one day to support the work of Little Scribblers’ Nursery School in Larkhall. The money we raised allowed Emma Whipp and Sarah Brooks to improve the play area at Little Scribblers.
This year, I have decided to walk the Beacons Circuit in the Brecon Beacons National Park. This 11 mile circuit covers three of the main summits and ridges of the central Brecon Beacons. It includes the summit of Pen y Fan (886 metres) the highest peak in southern Britain (south of Snowdonia). I will plan this trek for a weekday in the last two weeks of August. I’m going to try to avoid a rainy or windy day ( the trail guide warns that unexpected gusts of wind have sometimes blown hikers over the outcroppings).
This year, I have decided to walk the Beacons Circuit in the Brecon Beacons National Park. This 11 mile circuit covers three of the main summits and ridges of the central Brecon Beacons. It includes the summit of Pen y Fan (886 metres) the highest peak in southern Britain (south of Snowdonia). I will plan this trek for a weekday in the last two weeks of August. I’m going to try to avoid a rainy or windy day ( the trail guide warns that unexpected gusts of wind have sometimes blown hikers over the outcroppings).
* Welsh for: The Big One! An epic 11 mile (17.7km) circuit of the main summits and ridges of the central Brecon Beacons in a spectacular day's walk.
Or if you prefer the whole description in Welsh:
Yr Un Mawr! Cylchdaith arwraidd 11 milltir (17.7km) o brif gopaon a chribau ardal ganolig Bannau Brycheiniog mewn taith un diwrnod wych.Friday, August 01, 2008
Hunter Mahan -a professional golfer slaveAmerica's Newest Slaves
After last year's Open (British) I repeated some of the comments of BBC commentators asking why Europeans could win the Ryder Cup but did poorly in the four Major Tournaments (The Masters, The US Open, The Open, and the US PGA Championship).
Nick Faldo thought it might be that European players were to chummy with one another. I surmised that it might be the competitive capitalist system that is the US tour makes American players less likely to be proper team mates.
That was pooh-poohed by at least one reader of my blog! Then good old Hunter Mahan comes forward to make my point.
Mr Mahan said: "You've got dinners every night – not little dinners but huge, massive dinners. I know, as players, that's the last thing we want to do. You're just a slave that week. At some point the players might say, 'We're not doing this any more'. Don't be surprised if it happens. It's just not a fun week like it should be. From what I've heard, the Ryder Cup just isn't fun. Phil Mickelson and Tiger [Woods] – their time is worth money. And for the PGA of America, the Ryder Cup is a money-maker like no other. Is it an honour to play? Yes it is, but players value their time and this is a business."
Hunter has only earned a paltry $1,549,996 in 2008. I guess he really is a slave! If you were a Ryder Cup participant would you want to be partnered with this tool?
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