PENSIEVE

Waiting, attitude adjustment and The Lion King

2012-01-27T22:27:09-05:00

These days are finding me running from one thing to the next. I've come to rely on The Never-ending To-Do list, mainly because e.v.e.r.y.thing I can think of TO do must go on the list lest I forget; bathing and breathing included.

Most important are the parent-y things reserved for the ma-Ma. Like doctor's visits. Yesterday, sports physicals for my boys topped my list since soccer is just around the corner.

Because they have a $25 deal, a local walk-in clinic is our destination when it's time for a school physical. Yesterday was no different. We walked in at 3:20.

We walked out at 5:30.

Their actual face time with the doc was about 20 minutes. The rest of the time we were treated to waiting room public broadcasting--it's been a long time since Arthur taught me a lesson and I'll be durned if the scholarly aardvark hasn't found the Fountain of Youth!

It's not hard to imagine all three of us were approximating spontaneous combustion, which might explain why one of my sons burst into uncontrollable laughter when the doctor asked him to cough. That's one response, I suppose.

Typically this type of thing undoes me. I'll fume til my fire fizzles to embers, which serves no one and doesn't even make me feel better.

But the truth of my "right now"?

I DO NOT HAVE TIME TO SIT IN A DOCTOR'S OFFICE FOR ALMOST 2 1/2 HOURS!

But yesterday something was different. Maybe it was because after I shared my Terrible Awful Very Bad Day, I received a few notes from readers whose TAVBDs aren't days, but weeks or months or worse! They were SO NICE about it, too, feeling my pain while sharing their {much more terrible awful} own, and I was flat over myself.

For goodness sakes, I get to travel to Germany off and on for the next year on the company's dime (sorta). My problems? Minor, sometimes emotional, inconvenience. That's about it.

The ridiculous wait at the doctor's office, while rude and inconvenient, wasn't life or death and my errands will get done eventually. And if they don't get done it won't be the end of the world.

On my post-doctor, rainy drive to T.J. Maxx to buy a suitcase for our trip, I had an ephiphany:

Getting mad about something in the past
is an absolute waste of time.

Now, I'm sure, being the savvy person you are, you already know this. But do you really believe this? Because believing this, owning it, changes everything for the better.

I can't change the past; it's neutral. The past is indifferent towards my present and cares not for my future. If I make the choice to dwell on the past, it can rob me of present and future joy and contentment.

I decided right then and right there ~ in the middle of the T.J. Maxx parking lot ~ that I wasn't going to allow the aggravating past three hours to steal any more energy or time.

And then I bought a really big, purple, lightweight trolley and asked the lady at check out, "Wouldn't it be funny if I had hidden a friend in it, and when you unzipped it to make sure I wasn't shoplifting, she jumped out?" and cock-eyed she hurried to complete my transaction. I might be mistaken but I think she was in a hurry to get rid of me.

Anyways...

At my epiphanous moment, Disney's Lion King came to mind. Ahhh, the sage wisdom of Rafiki, Timon and Pumba.

Enjoy, again, especially if it's been a while--

The terrible, awful, very bad day

2012-01-25T15:24:16-05:00

Yesterday the floodgates burst, and try as I might to dam them, they were unstoppable force. Today, if you look closely, swollen eyelids testify.

My breakdown was precipitated by Perfect Storm--

Discovery of losing an $850 porcelain crown
A friend hanging up on me because I snapped on the phone
Being called to love my neighbor when I have reason not to like her
The animal police arriving to arrest my dog

all occurring within minutes of each other.

The teeth

My teeth have been sensitive as long as I can remember, but in December I realized I had issues beyond sensitivity:

the porcelain had chipped off an existing crown last Summer, and the disgusting black metal remainder was beginning to peel away from my #3 tooth (upper right back for the dental neophytes) making it jump-to-the-ceiling sensitive to hot or cold and screaming for attention.
long-observed fractures in my #18 tooth (bottom back left) became problematic, not only hyper sensitive to hot/cold, but also to pressure.

With my impending two-month departure out of the country, it was time to deal with both. Because we were at the end of one year/beginning a new, and I knew my husband was starting a new job, AND I WAS TRYING TO MAKE SMART (stupid) FINANCIAL CHOICES TO AVOID TWO DEDUCTIBLES IN SEPARATE CALENDAR YEARS, I put off the crowns til mid-January (though we started the process before Christmas).

Skipping over a few details, I've been to my sadist perfectionist dentist four times in the past month. She's a conservative perfectionist, and we moved slowly to make sure I didn't need root canals in either tooth.

Yesterday was supposed to be Glory Hallelujah Day--my last visit--because along with my ish-shahs, I've had chair arm-gripping and whimpering-like-a-puppy pain, even with both sides of my mouth numbed til I slobbered silly. No exaggeration. Maybe.

B u t, over the weekend (pay attention 'cause this part's confusing) my real porcelain crown--temporarily cemented while we waited a wee bit longer to make sure I wasn't going to require a root canal--fell off. I decided to buy peace of mind by scheduling an endodontist evaluation for both teeth on Monday; there was enough lingering doubt to justify the expense. My regular dentist (whom I adore) is limited in her testing.

So I slipped my Real Porcelain Crown into an inflated Zip-loc bag, trotted off for McDreamy to look at both teeth, and was happily sent away with good news: NO root canal.

Yesterday, on my way to see my dentist to permanently seat BOTH crowns (the other one was due back from the lab), I checked to make sure my Real Porcelain Crown was in the car.

It wasn't.

I checked in my purse.

Not there either.

I came back in the house, concern starting to rise, and looked everywhere I would possibly put it--no fake tooth to be found!

The flood was beginning to rise in my throat....

The Call

It was right at this time when my friend called; the one I was supposed to let know we had to cancel a meeting to sign legal documents regarding our move. I had forgotten to call him, and he began by giving me a hard time about not responding to his multiple, earlier texts or messages, unbeknownst to him, unseen by me because my phone was a) in the car, and b) dead.

Defensive, I started crazy-talking, shrilling about my $850 lost crown and THIS WAS NOT THE TIME TO GIVE ME A HARD TIME AND....

I looked down at my phone because he wasn't responding, only to discover there was no one on the line and I'm thinking HE HUNG UP ON ME?!?!

But by now late for my dental appointment, I called the office to explain what was going on and begged them to phone the endodontist to see if by chance they had found a crown tucked in a baggie on their waiting room floor.

Frantic and with tears falling, I went back to my car and started looking from the passenger side, positive it had been on the seat the day before. It was then I noticed an idling vehicle parked in my driveway, the view partially obscured from a closed garage door. At first I thought it was the friend who had hung up on me, but then I could see writing on the side of the door, and figured it must be a technician here to read a meter or something.

Not finding the tooth and going back into the house, I was in full blown panic.

I was furious (I had lost the crown), upset (over the expense of replacing it), frustrated (I hadn't just gotten it permanently cemented on the previous visit), and concerned (there wasn't time for the lab to make a new one BEFORE I LEAVE THE COUNTRY).

Let me stop here to say I am not typically emotional, I rarely cry, and I've often wondered if that was the Number One reason my husband chose me 24 years ago and keeps me around today. I'm easy. Complicated, yes, but not high maintenance. Not to say if you cry you're high maintenance, but he'll tell you he appreciates this in me.

So I'm spinning in circles in the middle of my kitchen mentally retracing my footsteps. The Recycling Center. Office Depot. Verizon. I was in and out of my car a half dozen times following my endodontist appointment and it must have fallen out of my purse or car seat sometime throughout the day.

It was a lost cause. An expensive lost cause.

The Dog Police

I was weepily coming to terms with this when I heard a knock at my front door. I couldn't very well ignore it; whoever was in my driveway had to have heard me rustling through my car minutes earlier. I composed myself and opened the front door.

But eyeing the badge on his right hip sent me into a banshee's tailspin again. The poor man, stunned, said, "Ma'am, do you need a few minutes?" to which I wailed, "NO! PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHY YOU'RE HERE!" and I almost felt sorry for the guy 'cause by now I'm a hot mess, but I still don't know who he is or what he wants.

"I'm sorry to inform you we've received complaints about your dog and I'm here to issue a warning...."

I'm snubbing and snotting and can barely speak, and this guy...this guy doesn't know what to do, but no, OH NO, if he's here to do a job, who am I to stop him just because I'm having a Vesuvian eruption?

He can't tell me who issued the complaints, but we know who it is.

And it's solely because of her that we're having to find a new home for the puppy we've had nine years... :(.

In between snubs I ask the man to please tell the complainant I have actively been looking for a new home for the past month (since being made aware of Judie's wrath), and I'll take care of it. He gently offers, "Ma'am, I can help you with that," to which I squall, "BY 'HELP ME WITH THAT' DO YOU MEAN 'KILL' HER??!" and he assures me that's not what he means. He knows people who would take her and love her.

Remarkably, I have the presence of mind to take his name and number rather then surrendering my dog without talking this through with my husband.

Ugly Cry

I walk upstairs to my bathroom and had to laugh at my reflection--mascara is not only streaked down both cheeks, it's smeared across my forehead and all I can think is HOW DID IT GET THERE? My eyes are bloody and swollen, my nose looks like a drunk's and my lips are puffy. Lovely.

And I still have to go to the dentist to have my bottom crown cemented.

The whole way there I'm losing the Maintaining Composure battle, but I only think I'm under control; when I walk through the door and see Gwen, her sympathetic eyes unleash the dam once again and I manage to stammer "I...can't...stop...crying...." and I'll be darned if the entire office staff doesn't rally around me and hand me tissues and motion to "where I need to wipe" and hug me and not seem to notice or care I'm 40 minutes late with bats in the cave.

Bonus: Michael Jackson's greatest hits were playing.

One permanently-cemented crown, the lab rushing the other by Friday, finding out it was a DROPPED CALL not a hang-up from my friend, Carrabba's Shrimp & Scallop Spiedino Di Mare and dinner with friends later, at least the tears stopped.

And, yes, I know, it could have been much worse--we aren't talking life and death or natural disaster, and an amazing adventure is just around the corner (though sometimes it will masqurade as great challenge)--but for just a few hours the Robin I know was unrecognizable and out of control.

And that's what happened exactly one week before I leave for Germany.

: : : : : : : : : : : :

If you've ever had a terrible, awful, very bad day, feel free to vent in comments.

And, if you're in Chattanooga and want a wonderful dentist referral, email me; I still have nothing but mad love for mine!

And the Oreck Magnesium winner is....

2012-01-23T08:55:09-05:00

Lucky number 858!

Which meant I had to scroll through a LOT of pages of comments before I arrived at the winner's name. This is when numbered comments come in really handy!

I wish I could see her face when she realizes she just won a $600 vacuum combo for entering a blogger's giveaway a few times :).

Congratulations Kathy! And many, many thanks for all of you who entered! If you were so impressed with the Oreck Magnesium and the Ultimate Handheld Vac that you'd like to own a combo of your own, remember to use the code "Pensieve" and receive free shipping though the end of the month!

A wrinkle in time

2012-01-22T15:27:00-05:00

No matter the extreme measures you use to prevent aging, it’s going to happen. It’s natural.

And sometimes the more you resist, the faster those changes seem to occur, don’t they?

But I’ve come up with a way to win this battle; when wrinkles burrow and shape shifts and weight won’t go away no matter what you try…

Please click to continue reading how I've found victory over wrinkles at Therapon's The Skinny ~ all things beauty.

One Sentence Saturday #1

2012-01-21T11:43:04-05:00

I was so forgetful during pregnancy, one day I forgot to wear a bra to work.

(click image for explanation)

Your turn! Remember to visit your linky neighbors!!

Introducing...a REALLY fabulous, fun, fast blogging thing: One Sentence Saturday

2012-01-21T11:23:57-05:00

If you're a blogger and you're like me, you're mentally composing THE BEST POST YOU'VE EVER WRITTEN at the most random of times--in the shower, tossing and turning in the middle of the night, when you're driving--only to have no memory of it when you're actually in front of a computer with time to write.

I've written ~ and forgotten ~ hundreds of 'em.

Couple that with those days (and weeks and sometimes months) when life is six shades of crazy and you just don't have time to pour out your brilliance in bits and bytes, but by golly you're thinking it, oh-yes-you're-thinking-it, and gracious! wouldn't it be NOBEL PRIZE-WINNING LIT'RA'TURE if you only had the time to explore and pen your thoughts?!

That's kinda the Season I'm in.

Well, recently Pamela (unbeknownst to her) inspired me to create a fun little exercise intended to ~

spark creativity
arouse reader's curiosity
demand word economy
satisfy the compulsion to blog s o m e t h i n g
cultivate a fun little blogging community
require only a little time

Introducing One Sentence Saturday!

The rules? Simple:

Happy or sad, deep or shallow, inspiring or challenging, funny or serious, write a one-sentence post that tells a story you hope to elaborate on in the future; but if not, it's sufficient to stand alone. Then link back to the One Sentence Saturday linky, and in the spirit of blogging community and encouragment, commit to visit at least two other participants (preferably the person right before you and after you in the linky) and leave a comment.

That's it. Have you EVER seen a blogging ANYTHING so easy? I hope you'll join in. I hope you'll spread the word.

Here are a few buttons if you'd like to include one with your post with a link back to this explanation (thank you!).

My One-Sentence Saturday with the Master Linky is coming in a bit; for now, I just wanted to introduce her to you :).

What you do 12 days before you move to Germany...

2012-01-19T12:48:16-05:00

Tick tick tick...

Can you hear it? Because I do, and it's loud and relentless....

Time. Ticking. Away.

My life as I know it will monumentally change 12 days from now and I am feeling its enormity.

After 19 years in the paper industry, my husband is changing careers. He's leaving a dying industry to become part of a growth industry, joining a company that manufactures, among other things, hyper pure polysilicon.

Which tells 99% of you absolutely nothing, eh?

The simplest explanation is it's used in solar panels and microelectronics, and the plant here is sold out through 2015 although it won't even open for production until 2013.

Which is why MY life is changing: Tad's training will take place in Germany while their local facility is under construction.

Somebody scream!!!

Ummm, wait...I just did....

So, on January 31 I will join him for about nine weeks as he makes the transition to Burghausen, Bavaria; our boys will stay home under the care of family and close friends. I'll return in April to finish out the school year with them; Tad will make his first trip home in May, and then we'll all go back for the Summer while friends house sit. What happens next school year is still undecided; Thomas will be a senior and that complicates decision-making.

What I DO know is this opportunity is a precious gift on multiple levels; when I allow myself space to contemplate that aspect, I can barely maintain composure--

Tad has had his eyes open for the right opportunity for a number of years; this position allows us to remain in the place my children consider home, less than an hour away from my daughter's college.
The opportunity for travel throughout Europe while we have a home base there is INSANE! Burghausen is on the Austrian border near where The Sound of Music was filmed. DO YOU REMEMBER HOW BEAUTIFUL THE AREA IS?! We'll be 80 miles east of Munich, within driving distance (or a train ride or cheap flight) of Italy, France, Switzerland, the Czech Republic, Belgium, Luxembourg, Spain, the UK.

I will gladly give up food for travel. Lose weight + see the world = WINWIN

We'll get to reunite with my first cousin who lives about three hours away. She's lived in Germany over 20 years; I cannot believe our placement is so near, allowing us to get to know each other as adults.
Personal development. We're going to be immersed in a new culture in a far-away country, challenged to learn a new language. I'd say the odds are good we'll come back different human beings.
Intercultural awareness. I cannot wait to break the barriers of preconceived notions and stereotypes as we experience the truth that people are just people, the geography is just different. Plus, we get to act as unofficial U.S. Ambassadors; for some, we'll be the only Americans they ever meet!
Metric. I'll finally learn it. Do you realize the United States is the only country in the WORLD (with tiny exception-I-can't-remember-right-now) that uses Imperial measurement? WTheck is wrong with us?
Professional development. For Tad...he's a great manager of people and processes and I'm over-the-top THRILLED for this opportunity for him work for a 21st Century company.
Moving beyond comfort. Without going into detail, I've lived in a spiritual desert for a long, long while. But all the while I've had a sense of peace, believing in spite of my doubt or drought or whatever, that God was accomplishing a work of His choosing in me. Over the past several months he's begun to awaken me from my spiritual slumber, gifting me with a desire to worship Him and read His word, which I assure you, is a gargantuan shift. The timing of this job thing coincides perfectly; to move me out of my comfort zone and beyond the familiar...well...I have a sense that what has come before has prepared me for what lies ahead. I have no idea what that means, but my soul, she's a'stirrin', with expectation and anticipation.

So. What do you do 12 days before you move to Germany?

You pack up everything you think you'll need to live in an apartment a quarter of the size of your current house. It's a guessing game you hope you're close to winning.

You obsess over the illogical. Because my friend Neal (who works for a German company and has traveled there often over the past 20 years) told me to prepare for my trip by using sandpaper to wipe, my current obsession is toilet paper. I've bought 48 rolls so the boys will be taken care of, and the same amount for me and Tad. I also keep binge-buying snacks for their lunches.

You realize you aren't moving to a Third World Country and they actually have super markets, but you can't stop worrying about freakin' toilet paper.

You start talking on the phone for the first time in years. Mercy...I forgot they worked for something other than texting and taking pictures!

You squeeze in good-bye visits but suddenly realize you haven't done a good enough job of planning that kind of thing.

You finally work on your New Year's letter, having forgone Christmas cards because you knew this was coming in January, to let everyone who doesn't read your blog know what's going on. You can't afford that number of stamps.

Every time you look at your kids, you look at your kids. You have eyes to see what was formerly imperceptible, and your heart floats to the center of your throat and you can't speak or you'll fall apart.

s n i f f ...

I'm sure much of my writing over the next year will involve sharing our experience with those who care to follow. But, I also plan to finally finish my parenting series, and I'll continue writing for (in)courage, Simple Mom and Therapon, and curate great content for Story Bleed. I'll also continue writing for Vicks VapoRub through March...it is the cough and cold season, after all.

If you have interest in following our Bavarian adventure, now would be a great time to subscribe in a reader or by email; it would mean a lot to me to know you're virtually holding my hand, praying for us before and during Tad's assignment. When I'm with him, I'll be homesick for my babies; when I'm with the children, I'll be missin' Tad something awful. When we're altogether we'll probably be clawing each other's eyes out.

Just sayin'.

Feel free to chime in with your thoughts on where we need to go and what we need to see; I'm working on our European Bucket List and we'd love to learn from your wisdom and experience!

Related posts:

The Year of Living Dangerously

Clues that led up to our news

Eventually I get to the point; it ends in haiku

2012-01-17T07:33:36-05:00

Early on in blogging, before there were such things as intention beyond spilling random thought, building your brand, or sponsored posts and giveaways, when everyone read everyone else's blog and actually commented (gasp!), before Facebook and Twitter and vanity URLs...

I had a blogging friend named Ree who wrote about livin' la vida loca, ranch-style.

There was a loosely-held community, bound by an affection for sharing words and life, and we really got to know each other, the way you can when you're channeling each others' thoughts on a daily basis. My community's cast of characters included a wonderfully-endearing, dyslexic Coloradan who I think lives in a swamp, the first person who started commenting to me with some regularity (and I thought she was an oil baroness), her mother who sometimes painted masterpieces with words, a fabulous photographer, a curmudgeonly, ardently-cussy (& ultimately loveable) Australian, some mommy bloggers from Texas (including the pre-bloggess Bloggess)...and a pioneer woman. The Pioneer Woman. There were others in the mix, but many have long since stopped blogging or we've moved on.

Back in those days I religiously read every. single. person. who commented to my blog, and not only did I reply to their comment, I'd visit their blog and leave long, lovely comments to their posts. It took a lot of time ~ all my time ~ and eventually in the pursuit of Life Balance, I became a sucky commenter (and for the most part killed a lively, ragamuffin community).

My mornings always began with my first cup of coffee and reading Pioneer Woman, a habit that lasted for years. I still read her wonderful blog but with less regularity.

This morning I popped in on PW, delighted to find her entire post written in haiku! If you follow me on Twitter and happen to see my early morning tweets, you already know I start most days with a little poem, more often than not, haiku. Haiku composition demands word economy ~ not my strong suit ~ AND I love the creative prompt to begin my day.

So...when I read Ree's post, my heart burst into song and tiny cartoon hearts danced around my head! I was compelled to reply with my own haiku, then promptly popped over to Twitter where I published this morning's daily poem, I think one of my favorites.

obsidian sky

diamond-sprinkled black velvet

softly kisses dawn

Haikus make me happy. Haikus are FUN to write! Haikus spark creativity for greater good! Yes, yes--haikus can make your day BETTER! Won't you share one with me right now? What are you waiting for? Giddy-up!!

photo credit

So much more than a dream: A must-read for today

2012-01-16T08:08:00-05:00

I felt like my public education utterly failed me when I discovered Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" a few years ago; it's long but rivals the significance of his more popular and iconic "I have a dream" speech.

Read it, print it out, share it with your children--and make sure they don't make it to 40 without having read it themselves. Highlighted passages are mine, sections that screamed at me in convicting whisper.

Letter from a Birmingham Jail

16 April 1963

My Dear Fellow Clergymen:

While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities "unwise and untimely." Seldom do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would have little time for anything other than such correspondence in the course of the day, and I would have no time for constructive work. But since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statement in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.

I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham, since you have been influenced by the view which argues against "outsiders coming in." I have the honor of serving as president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, an organization operating in every southern state, with headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. We have some eighty five affiliated organizations across the South, and one of them is the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights. Frequently we share staff, educational and financial resources with our affiliates. Several months ago the affiliate here in Birmingham asked us to be on call to engage in a nonviolent direct action program if such were deemed necessary. We readily consented, and when the hour came we lived up to our promise. So I, along with several members of my staff, am here because I was invited here. I am here because I have organizational ties here.

But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their "thus saith the Lord" far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid.

Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.

You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about the demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that the city's white power structure left the Negro community with no alternative.

In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation; self purification; and direct action. We have gone through all these steps in Birmingham. There can be no gainsaying the fact that racial injustice engulfs this community. Birmingham is probably the most thoroughly segregated city in the United States. Its ugly record of brutality is widely known. Negroes have experienced grossly unjust treatment in the courts. There have been more unsolved bombings of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than in any other city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal facts of the case. On the basis of these conditions, Negro leaders sought to negotiate with the city fathers. But the latter consistently refused to engage in good faith negotiation.

Then, last September, came the opportunity to talk with leaders of Birmingham's economic community. In the course of the negotiations, certain promises were made by the merchants--for example, to remove the stores' humiliating racial signs. On the basis of these promises, the Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights agreed to a moratorium on all demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we realized that we were the victims of a broken promise. A few signs, briefly removed, returned; the others remained. As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of deep disappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and the national community. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake a process of self purification. We began a series of workshops on nonviolence, and we repeatedly asked ourselves: "Are you able to accept blows without retaliating?" "Are you able to endure the ordeal of jail?" We decided to schedule our direct action program for the Easter season, realizing that except for Christmas, this is the main shopping period of the year. Knowing that a strong economic-withdrawal program would be the by product of direct action, we felt that this would be the best time to bring pressure to bear on the merchants for the needed change.

Then it occurred to us that Birmingham's mayoral election was coming up in March, and we speedily decided to postpone action until after election day. When we discovered that the Commissioner of Public Safety, Eugene "Bull" Connor, had piled up enough votes to be in the run off, we decided again to postpone action until the day after the run off so that the demonstrations could not be used to cloud the issues. Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated, and to this end we endured postponement after postponement. Having aided in this community need, we felt that our direct action program could be delayed no longer.

You may well ask: "Why direct action? Why sit ins, marches and so forth? Isn't negotiation a better path?" You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the nonviolent resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word "tension." I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, so must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood. The purpose of our direct action program is to create a situation so crisis packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation. I therefore concur with you in your call for negotiation. Too long has our beloved Southland been bogged down in a tragic effort to live in monologue rather than dialogue.

One of the basic points in your statement is that the action that I and my associates have taken in Birmingham is untimely. Some have asked: "Why didn't you give the new city administration time to act?" The only answer that I can give to this query is that the new Birmingham administration must be prodded about as much as the outgoing one, before it will act. We are sadly mistaken if we feel that the election of Albert Boutwell as mayor will bring the millennium to Birmingham. While Mr. Boutwell is a much more gentle person than Mr. Connor, they are both segregationists, dedicated to maintenance of the status quo. I have hope that Mr. Boutwell will be reasonable enough to see the futility of massive resistance to desegregation. But he will not see this without pressure from devotees of civil rights. My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was "well timed" in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."

We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness"--then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience. You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court's decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: "How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?" The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that "an unjust law is no law at all."

Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority. Segregation, to use the terminology of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an "I it" relationship for an "I thou" relationship and ends up relegating persons to the status of things. Hence segregation is not only politically, economically and sociologically unsound, it is morally wrong and sinful. Paul Tillich has said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an existential expression of man's tragic separation, his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness? Thus it is that I can urge men to obey the 1954 decision of the Supreme Court, for it is morally right; and I can urge them to disobey segregation ordinances, for they are morally wrong.

Let us consider a more concrete example of just and unjust laws. An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itself. This is difference made legal. By the same token, a just law is a code that a majority compels a minority to follow and that it is willing to follow itself. This is sameness made legal. Let me give another explanation. A law is unjust if it is inflicted on a minority that, as a result of being denied the right to vote, had no part in enacting or devising the law. Who can say that the legislature of Alabama which set up that state's segregation laws was democratically elected? Throughout Alabama all sorts of devious methods are used to prevent Negroes from becoming registered voters, and there are some counties in which, even though Negroes constitute a majority of the population, not a single Negro is registered. Can any law enacted under such circumstances be considered democratically structured?

Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to deny citizens the First-Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.

I hope you are able to see the distinction I am trying to point out. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law, as would the rabid segregationist. That would lead to anarchy. One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly, lovingly, and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law.

Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobedience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar, on the ground that a higher moral law was at stake. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.

We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was "legal" and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was "illegal." It was "illegal" to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler's Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country's antireligious laws.

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.

In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn't this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn't this like condemning Jesus because his unique God consciousness and never ceasing devotion to God's will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber. I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: "All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth." Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At first I was rather disappointed that fellow clergymen would see my nonviolent efforts as those of an extremist. I began thinking about the fact that I stand in the middle of two opposing forces in the Negro community. One is a force of complacency, made up in part of Negroes who, as a result of long years of oppression, are so drained of self respect and a sense of "somebodiness" that they have adjusted to segregation; and in part of a few middle-class Negroes who, because of a degree of academic and economic security and because in some ways they profit by segregation, have become insensitive to the problems of the masses. The other force is one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes perilously close to advocating violence. It is expressed in the various black nationalist groups that are springing up across the nation, the largest and best known being Elijah Muhammad's Muslim movement. Nourished by the Negro's frustration over the continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement is made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have absolutely repudiated Christianity, and who have concluded that the white man is an incorrigible "devil."

I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we need emulate neither the "do nothingism" of the complacent nor the hatred and despair of the black nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of love and nonviolent protest. I am grateful to God that, through the influence of the Negro church, the way of nonviolence became an integral part of our struggle. If this philosophy had not emerged, by now many streets of the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood. And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as "rabble rousers" and "outside agitators" those of us who employ nonviolent direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in black nationalist ideologies--a development that would inevitably lead to a frightening racial nightmare.

Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations are taking place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: "Get rid of your discontent." Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Was not Amos an extremist for justice: "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream." Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." Was not Martin Luther an extremist: "Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God." And John Bunyan: "I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience." And Abraham Lincoln: "This nation cannot survive half slave and half free." And Thomas Jefferson: "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . ." So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime--the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.

I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle--have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as "dirty nigger-lovers." Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful "action" antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions. I am not unmindful of the fact that each of you has taken some significant stands on this issue. I commend you, Reverend Stallings, for your Christian stand on this past Sunday, in welcoming Negroes to your worship service on a nonsegregated basis. I commend the Catholic leaders of this state for integrating Spring Hill College several years ago.

But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church. I do not say this as one of those negative critics who can always find something wrong with the church. I say this as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its spiritual blessings and who will remain true to it as long as the cord of life shall lengthen.

When I was suddenly catapulted into the leadership of the bus protest in Montgomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt we would be supported by the white church. I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained glass windows.

In spite of my shattered dreams, I came to Birmingham with the hope that the white religious leadership of this community would see the justice of our cause and, with deep moral concern, would serve as the channel through which our just grievances could reach the power structure. I had hoped that each of you would understand. But again I have been disappointed.

I have heard numerous southern religious leaders admonish their worshipers to comply with a desegregation decision because it is the law, but I have longed to hear white ministers declare: "Follow this decree because integration is morally right and because the Negro is your brother." In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard many ministers say: "Those are social issues, with which the gospel has no real concern." And I have watched many churches commit themselves to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange, un-Biblical distinction between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular.

I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South's beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have found myself asking: "What kind of people worship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave a clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest?"

Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church. How could I do otherwise? I am in the rather unique position of being the son, the grandson and the great grandson of preachers. Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.

There was a time when the church was very powerful--in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being "disturbers of the peace" and "outside agitators."' But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were "a colony of heaven," called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be "astronomically intimidated." By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent--and often even vocal--sanction of things as they are.

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today's church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.

Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ekklesia and the hope of the world. But again I am thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing chains of conformity and joined us as active partners in the struggle for freedom. They have left their secure congregations and walked the streets of Albany, Georgia, with us. They have gone down the highways of the South on tortuous rides for freedom. Yes, they have gone to jail with us. Some have been dismissed from their churches, have lost the support of their bishops and fellow ministers. But they have acted in the faith that right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. Their witness has been the spiritual salt that has preserved the true meaning of the gospel in these troubled times. They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain of disappointment. I hope the church as a whole will meet the challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America's destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation -and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands. Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police force for keeping "order" and "preventing violence." I doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police department.

It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handling the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather "nonviolently" in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany, Georgia, but they have used the moral means of nonviolence to maintain the immoral end of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot has said: "The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason."

I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths, with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: "My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest." They will be the young high school and college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience' sake. One day the South will know that when these disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they were in reality standing up for what is best in the American dream and for the most sacred values in our Judaeo Christian heritage, thereby bringing our nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the founding fathers in their formulation of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?

If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me.

I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.

Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,

Martin Luther King, Jr.

After all this...how can you not consider Martin Luther King, Jr. to be a Super Hero? His thoughts, intellect, kindness, faithfulness, reasonableness all inspire me like few others. If you skimmed it the first time, go back...savor...chew on meaty flesh. And you'll grow as a result.

HT: African Studies Center at the University of Pennsylvania

Read and re-posted as an annual tribute to a man who dared to change the world....

Oreck Magnesium Giveaway!! ($600 value)

2012-01-12T23:06:55-05:00

Right before Thanksgiving, I remember thinking, "I wish someone was hosting a vacuum cleaner giveaway or blogging campaign or SOMETHING" because my extended family was coming to spend a few nights, there was LOTS of cleaning to do, and my years' old vacuum was showing her age. I'm always happy to work for food and/or fancy household appliances.

You can imagine my shock when THE WEEK AFTER THANKSGIVING I was contacted by Oreck about a blogger outreach program to receive their new Oreck Magnesium for review and host a giveaway for one lucky reader.

If I wasn't so thrilled I would've been more concerned about Big Brother somehow getting inside my head.

There are so many good things to say about the Oreck Magnesium I'm offering you ~ (please click to find out!!)

Top Ten Favorite Features
For My New Oreck Magnesium Vacuum

1. It's lightweight. My word, this vacuum weighs just a little more than a bag of flour! You will not break your back carrying it up and down stairs or pushing it around.

2. Major suckage. How can something so light manage to pick up so much on a first pass? I'm used to vacuuming the same area over and over, but now my shag rug stands at attention, an indicator the Magnesium has much stronger suction.

3. Maneuverability. Between its over-sized back wheels, low-lying front and otherwise brilliant design, it can turn on a dime, round corners, and lie flat almost flat under furniture.

4. Self propelled. I remember how excited my husband was when he got a new self-propelled lawn mower; now, I fully understand. You basically point the Oreck Magnesium where you want it to go, and it almost floats in that direction.

5. Extra long cord. I didn't realize how much I'd appreciate the 30' cord until I was able to vacuum without having to continually unplug and replug. It's a little thing that goes a long way (from our kitchen table, past the kitchen and into our little den on the other side).

6. Accommodates multiple surfaces. We have hardwoods, shaggy area rugs, no-pile bathroom rugs and wall-to-wall carpeting. My Magnesium moved seemlessly between them; all you do is press the on/off switch (high/low switch?) to match the surface you're on.

7. TLC. The Oreck Magnesium is a high-end product with an impressive 7-year limited warranty. Plus, you receive three annual tune-ups with your purchase, a $40 value each time. A vacuum spa retreat--who knew?

8. HEPA Inner Bag. I've never been completely comfortable with bagless vacuums regardless of their marketing, price and appeal; I prefer a model with an inner bag, and Oreck's Magnesium grabs 99.97% of particles down to .3 microns. I don't know how large that is, but it makes me think about Horton Hears a Who and I sincerely hope I'm not obliterating any small planets that live in our dust bunnies.

9. Little things. This tiny clip on the top-back of the handle? Brilliant--you don't even have to hold the cord to keep it out of your way (one of my Oreck friends told me about it and I had missed it! So I thought it very necessary to share with YOU.)

10. It's sexy and sleek. My friend Nester would beg to differ, but I think this is the prettiest vacuum I've ever seen! Striking cobalt and black, thin lines...it might not match my decor, but my closest has never been better accessorized.

Plus...rumor has it, it's even easy enough for a princess to use...!

Well, now....

When I expressed my concern about the limitations of an upright, Oreck answered with this: their New Ultimate Handheld Vac.

In this tiny little vac that oddly reminds me of R2D2, I get everything an upright is lacking--

A magic, telescoping wand to reach cobwebs in corners (hush--I bet you have 'em, too), ceiling fans or tops of pictures or curtains, the once or twice a year I get a crazy cleaning itch.
The ability to vacuum out our cars! This is my husband's favorite benefit.
An easy way to handle stairs. I guess you could use an upright, but it's awkward to me; the Ultimate Handheld Vac makes it child's play.
Brilliant innovation! This sucker comes with a shoulder strap so you can carry it around while you get to the hard-to-reach spots. It's only 5 pounds so very manageable to carry.
My boys think it's cool. Confession time: EVERYone in my family used my new Oreck before I did...and they raved to me about our new vacuum completely unsolicited. Now, THAT, I wish I had on video!

Ok, now for the rest of the story--

Top Three Least-favorite Features
For My New Oreck Magnesium Vacuum

1. Lift. When I got to the edges of some (not all) of my area rugs, I had to be careful they didn't get sucked in. Nester didn't have an issue with this; it seemed to do this only on the rugs that didn't have a rubber-lined backing. Nothing new, though; this happens with my old vacuum.

2. Limitations of an upright. Because I'm used to a canister vac, this is an adjustment; but, I like my little sidekick featured above, so there IS a good remedy.

3. Price. There's no getting around this; at $600 the Oreck Magnesium/Ultimate Handheld Vac Combo are investment appliances. But considering Oreck's long-standing great reputation, accommodating customer service and quality construction, you're not going to need to replace your vacuum any time soon. I've learned the hard way you DO get what you pay for with appliances.

Whew! I've gush enough--

How would YOU like to win an Oreck Magnesium and Ultimate Handheld Vac Combo?

You only need to complete the mandatory entry below to enter, but if you would like additional entries (which will increase your chances in this random draw!), please feel free to jump through social media hoops daily, hourly, or whenever your little appliance-coveting heart desires.

MANDATORY entry :: Visit Oreck.com and tell us one thing you learned about the Magnesium vacuum in the comments here:

Additional entries (no limit, but please comment separately for each way you enter, including the unique URL for each Facebook status, Tweet, etc.; multiple tweets, etc. count each time as long as you enter the unique URL for each one.):

Subscribe to PENSIEVE in a reader or by email (this one will make me grin like a Cheshire cat & sprinkle pixie dust on your entries).
Follow @oreck on Twitter.
Like Oreck on Facebook.
Sign up for Oreck’s email list by clicking on “Sign up for Email” in the top navigation bar and entering your email address.
Tweet about the giveaway, mentioning you and @oreck with a link to this post. Here's a copy and paste but feel free to use your own words as long as you include @oreck @PensieveRobin and a link to this specific post:

Have you entered the $600 @Oreck Magnesium/Handheld Vac Combo #giveaway from @PensieveRobin? Details: http://bit.ly/wi10qU Pls RT!

If you have a Giveaway category on Pinterest, pin this post and let us know.
Follow Oreck on Pinterest.

Do you know Nester? She's giving away a Magnesium/Handheld Vac combo, too--but hurry! Her deadline is Friday at midnight!!

Note: if you're like me, you're likely embarrassed to enter a bunch of times out of fear of what the giver-awayer might think. In this case, increase your odds! I'll only think you're cooler if you enter 47 times. Tell your friends, tell your neighbors...heck, get your dog to enter as long as he can leave a comment below!! :)

Deadline for entry is Friday, January 20 @ 11:59 EST; winner announced as soon as I can post it.

Special incentive for PENSIEVE purchasers: Free shipping extended through 1/31/12 using the code PENSIEVE. (Through 1/19 there's free shipping on-site; after that you'll have to use the code.)

Fine print:

The giveaway winner must be a resident of the U.S. 48 contiguous states

Oreck Corporation provided the prize for the sweepstakes but is not the sponsor of the sweepstakes. Oreck is responsible for shipping the item to the winner. Sincere thanks to Oreck for inviting me to receive a Magnesium/Handheld Vac combo at no charge; it couldn't have been better timing for this review.

Listed with:

Online Sweepstakes

Prizey

Contest Girl

FREE Starbucks!

2012-01-12T07:12:56-05:00

Love Starbucks because their Jedi Mind Tricks have worked and you think it's the best coffee in the world?

Hate Starbucks because of their marketing prowess in convincing you it's WORTH $5 for a 1.5-ounce shot of espresso in your favorite coffee drink?

Either way, they're inviting you to taste their new Blonde (presumably lighter) Roast at the "Find the Roast You Love Most" event, today through Saturday, January 14th. Then you can drive over to Canada sometime between February 9-11 and receive another free sampling.

Some people would say it's totally worth the trip. I, for one, have always thought Starbucks coffee tasted like licking an ashtray - to which my husband always asks, "And WHEN have you licked an ashtray?!" - and it's no temptation to abandon my beloved Dunkin Donuts.... (Except I love Sbux caramel macchiatos, but I drink them sparingly because of a) the calories, b) the cost, c) principle. ish.)

However, Blonde Coffee? Veranda Blend? Will gentlemen prefer this roast? Is it a slight towards redheads and brunettes? If Starbucks' other blends are "dark" and "medium" why isn't this "light"? And are we supposed to drink it on a porch in the South? So many questions to ponder...!

Well, something about it does sound fun, so I think I will take 'em up on their offer.

skin thin

2012-01-10T08:23:44-05:00

there is this thing about me i wish i could change:

my skin is too thin.

you can almost see it, flesh stretched over frame, opaque...translucent. how can those things be when they're seemingly opposite?

i've tried to change. i've tried not to care.

sometimes i pretend well, but sometimes i retreat.

i'm a turtle in a shell.

my mind is forgetful, so forgetful; i can't recall the simplest of things - what did i wear yesterday? - but my heart has elephant's memory.

there are wounds, some decades old, still oozy. from the fresh, blood seeps.

it's not a giving in to it, languishing in a pool of sorrow, not like that at all. it's f e e l i n g, and that deeply, a soul haunting.

a scar. yes, that's it...scars! words lash and leave their mark, actions speak and shatter glass...and a heart is scarred, and though it'd like to, it cannot forget.

the heart always remembers.

i wonder, indeed, if this is how i am naturally wired, than this is good. i'm a child of EL-ROI, the strong one who sees, EL-SHADDAI, God almighty; so He who sees me, He who gave me life, for cryin' out loud...is perfectly able to change me.

but He hasn't. so if my skin refuses to callous, to thicken, then must this way of being be for my good and His glory?

i think so.

i choose to believe so.

thin makes you aware. it opens your eyes, although sometimes not until later. thin builds compassion, it tenders you to others. thin is far from perfect, but maybe most of all, thin informs forgiveness.

left untended, thin is a gnarl of weeds, ugly and bitter and angry.

wisdom seekers see thin's beauty, life coursing in rivers below skin's surface.

i'm comfortable in this skin, thankful for its redemption.

its r e d e m p t i o n ...

deep feeler

eye opener

forgiveness teacher

maybe one day i'll stop wishing to change.

* * * * * * * *

Joining Heather of the EO's "Just Write" writing prompt...I sure didn't see this one coming... :).

Photo credit

Picturesque & poetic: an Ode to Dunkin Donuts

2012-01-09T16:42:08-05:00

My intention was singular: I needed a Bavarian Cream doughnut for Clue #2.

O.n.e. Bavarian Cream doughnut (or "Krapfen" as my imaginary German friend Herr Höferle informed me).

But, good gravy...when I walked through the doors of our new Dunkin Donuts, I heard the colors of the rainbow singing an oh-so-sweet tune (and saw, and smelled...and eventually tasted....), and then my plans changed.

Who am I to resist such a seductive siren's call? Just look at these lively, little temptresses....

My family was most appreciative of my change in plans.

I'm feeling rather inspired after thumbing through my doughnut pictures for the umpteenth time; in fact, rather poetic. Indulge me...?

An Ode to Dunkin Donuts

Dunkin Donuts Coffee, aroma so fine,

Each morning I wake to this Scent of Divine.

We love you so much, we buy by mail order

Oh, no, could we be an addicted bean hoarder?!

Please say it ain't so! We just like our caffeine

From the best - and that's y'all - you, coffee machine!

One cup or two cups or dare I drink three?

Well, if I did that, all day would I pee!

And by nighttime, I'm sure sleep would elude

Ensuring next day a grouchy, bad mood.

But wait! There's a fix when insomnia lingers,

Sweet, sugared goodness all over your fingers!

Sprinkles and icing, doughnuts supreme

You won't find these treats at your Krispy Kreme!

You see, "Hot and Now" is all they can boast,

And here's why I love Dunkin Donuts the most:

Their coffee puts Starbucks, all others, to shame

Their doughnut perfection, I can't help but proclaim!

An edible rainbow, a colorful snack,

Delicious reasons I'll keep coming back.

Amen.

Cure for hiccups

2012-01-08T20:50:08-05:00

My youngest has sworn by this cure for months, but I've been skeptical.

Until tonight.

I didn't just have the hiccups, I had the hiccup-burps; much more annoying and completely unladylike. So I figured I had nothing to lose and protein to gain.

I've tried holding my breath, exhaling then holding it, drinking a glass of water, and who knows what else to get rid of hiccups. Who knew that a spoon full of peanut butter would do the trick? I mean besides Stephen...?

Immediately they stopped. I'm now a believer. My son is brilliant. Home remedies rock.

Which has me wondering, what are your tried and true home remedies? For hiccups, toe fungus or any other bothersome but not life threatening malady? Do tell!

Around/About ~ The "5 wonderful links NOT to miss" edition

2012-01-07T12:50:54-05:00

A collection of links I love, sites I like, interesting reads or cool happenings nearby.

I cannot find the source for the photograph above, but everything about it is breathes fire! I can at least hattip where I found it, at Esther Maria Swaty's Frequency of Words, one of my favorite recent online discoveries. An excellent curated site.

Noah's Dad has an encouraging post about a recent Target ad, one that he points out says a lot without saying a thing. A small but important step on behalf of those with Down's Syndrome.

Chattanooga is a wonderful place to live AND visit, and it's always fun when outsiders catch a glimpse. Score a BIG one for the small city, recognized in The New York Times piece "45 Places to Go in 2012." The article might not been trending on the world's radar, but Chattanoogans were Tweeting and Facebooking the link to infinity and beyond. We're one of only three U.S. cities tapped with this distinction.

I'm definitely a Carpe Diem kind-of-a-girl, and yet I agree with every.single.word. in Momastery's post "Don't Carpe Diem." I don't know if that means I'm complicated or conflicted, but she absolutely nails the slippery concept of time as it relates to parenting...and I think she absolves the guilt of many who struggle with what they think they're supposed to be doing. A million people have read this post; if you haven't, you need to!

My friend Jill and her husband Ryan have launched a new marriage blog, For Better and Worse. I think they're gonna have some encouraging, important, relatable things to say in the future. Give 'em a visit and a pat on the back, k?

Your turn: What have you seen that I've missed? Yours or someone you love? DO share in comments!!