Yesterday, April 4, 2008, was the 40th anniversary of the death of the greatest American of the last hundred years. This is the one 20th century figure who we honor with a national holiday, a holiday that symbolizes our commitment to justice, courage, unity, and, above all, character.
Like Martin Luther King,
I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, 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 cities are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, once sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into a place where caravan after caravan of minivans containing folks, both white and black, embark on a trip to see the National Gallery of Art, the Lincoln Memorial, the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, Mount Vernon, and its most unifying shrine of all, Nationals Park.
I have a dream that my two daughters will one day live in a nation where their city will not be judged by the color of the skin of the majority of its inhabitants, but by the importance of the work that is done there and the potential of that work to beautify our nation and our world.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips once dripped with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and agree that they will devote at least part of their lives to a so-called “public service” occupation,” maybe even in public office.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every American valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, the crooked businesspeople and politicians will be made straight, our nation’s public and private sectors can extol each other’s virtues, and the electorate will be active and energized, and all flesh shall see this together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to my home in suburban
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My capital city, 'tis of thee, sweet town of unity, of thee I sing. Town for which my fathers cried, town for which my mothers sighed, but now a source of all our pride, let the bells of the National Cathedral ring."
Let unity ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let unity ring from the curvaceous peaks of
But not only that; let unity ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let unity ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let unity ring from every hill and every molehill of
When we let unity ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, you know what this means. We will have stopped trying to appeal more to “Reagan Democrats” than to “yellow-dog Democrats,” or more to libertarians than to “values” conservatives,” but we will instead respectfully admit all Americans into the national dialogue. We will have stopped trying to say that “elites” in
P.S. – This bizarre little post was inspired by two things: my sincere love for MLK,