Volodymyr Zelensky, President of Ukraine
Showing posts with label Events. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Events. Show all posts
Jan 1, 2023
Feb 17, 2013
Martin Luther King Jr.: I Have A Dream (Speech transcript and video)
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., August 28, 1963. The Washington Mall - Lincoln Memorial
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!" -By Care2
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Martin Luther King - I Have A Dream Speech - August 28, 1963
Apr 22, 2012
Survivor Of Japanese Tsunami Finds Hope In Noodle Shop
Running a business in a battered economy in a tsunami-ravaged community is an exercise of hope and redemption for one man with a noodle shop.
“There’s a risk in starting a business now in a terrible economy in a disaster zone,” Yasuhiro Ishiwata, 28, said in his shop in this seaside town that was decimated in the March 11 tidal wave.
“But compared to the tsunami, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. I’m starting to believe that there is such a thing as tomorrow.”
More than nine months after the 9.0-magnitude earthquake and tsunami destroyed half of his native city of Kesennuma, Mr. Ishiwata and many other survivors say they are finding a deeper meaning in the shocking tragedy that left perhaps 20,000 dead and missing in northeastern Japan.
Long before the tsunami, Mr. Ishiwata was cynical about Japan’s future and unsure about his direction in life. He did not want to join childhood friends who moved 300 miles south to Tokyo to live in cramped apartments and ride in crowded commuter trains.
Instead, he attended college in nearby Sendai and played both offensive and defensive tackle positions on the school football team, having learned the game from videos of the Super Bowl.
He then went to China in search of work but found love instead. He married a Chinese student and brought her back to live in his hometown, Kesennuma, where she gave birth to their daughter on Valentine's Day 2010.
Lacking options, he worked along with 30 others in his father’s company, buying and selling shark fins in the port area that the tsunami later obliterated.
The tsunami wiped out the ports and much of the fishing fleet and sent Mr. Ishiwata and his family scurrying up a hill to safety. He watched the rushing wall of water drown others who could not escape. A massive fire broke out and engulfed half of the city.
He said he told himself, “This is the end; there is no tomorrow.”
For several dark winter nights, he drank sake and whiskey to keep from freezing to death. He used a cloth doused in alcohol to wash their baby.
Still traumatized a month later, he sent his wife and daughter to live with her parents in China. With no jobs in Kesennuma, he moved southwest down the coast to work in Choshi, Chiba province, which temporarily took over the shark-fin trade.
But his new boss, dealing with a bad economy and a global movement against serving shark-fin soup in restaurants, was insensitive to his plight.
Mr. Ishiwata quit and again joined the swelling ranks of the unemployed nationwide.
Passing through train stations, unsure where to go, he saw hundreds of homeless men, many from the disaster zone, sleeping on cold floors and streets. He wondered whether he would end up joining them.
Not able to find work, he went back to Kesennuma, where at least he had relatives and friends.
By chance, he ran into a man from Saitama province who offered to teach him how to make udon noodles by hand. The wheat flour noodles are widely used in Japanese dishes.
“I never thought I would be a noodle maker, until the day I actually learned to do it,” he said.
Volunteers from Lion’ Club International had set up a little “yatai” outdoor market with red lanterns in the port area. Because he still had a home and car as collateral, he was able to get a bank loan. Many other tsunami survivors lost everything.
On Oct. 12, he opened his shop, Mizuki, named after his daughter.
Day by day, life and commerce returned to the area. A giant crane lifted a hulking ship that the tsunami had pushed to the street back into the water.
Teams of local men and a few women in hard hats and uniforms removed millions of tons of wreckage from the south end of the city. Japan Railways reopened a train line connecting Kesennuma to Ichinoseki and Japan’s high-speed rail system.
People who endured up to five months in overcrowded shelters moved in with relatives or into temporary homes. A spirit of camaraderie, born of communal suffering, breathed joy into a city that many feared would never come back to life.
“We are beginning to overcome the tragedy of this year,” Mr. Ishiwata said. “People are starting to smile again. We appreciate all the things we have, especially our families and neighbors.”
Mr. Ishiwata said he wants to build up the handmade noodle business and hire as many unemployed people as he can, especially because the government is cutting off welfare benefits.
“We can’t just expect the government to give us things forever. This city belongs to us. We ourselves have to make things happen now.”
He is now optimistic that Kesennuma will recover.
“As we always say here, ‘We have nothing to fear anymore,’ ” he said. “We survived the tsunami. We can overcome anything.” -The Washington Times
“There’s a risk in starting a business now in a terrible economy in a disaster zone,” Yasuhiro Ishiwata, 28, said in his shop in this seaside town that was decimated in the March 11 tidal wave.
“But compared to the tsunami, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. I’m starting to believe that there is such a thing as tomorrow.”
More than nine months after the 9.0-magnitude earthquake and tsunami destroyed half of his native city of Kesennuma, Mr. Ishiwata and many other survivors say they are finding a deeper meaning in the shocking tragedy that left perhaps 20,000 dead and missing in northeastern Japan.
Long before the tsunami, Mr. Ishiwata was cynical about Japan’s future and unsure about his direction in life. He did not want to join childhood friends who moved 300 miles south to Tokyo to live in cramped apartments and ride in crowded commuter trains.
Instead, he attended college in nearby Sendai and played both offensive and defensive tackle positions on the school football team, having learned the game from videos of the Super Bowl.
He then went to China in search of work but found love instead. He married a Chinese student and brought her back to live in his hometown, Kesennuma, where she gave birth to their daughter on Valentine's Day 2010.
Lacking options, he worked along with 30 others in his father’s company, buying and selling shark fins in the port area that the tsunami later obliterated.
The tsunami wiped out the ports and much of the fishing fleet and sent Mr. Ishiwata and his family scurrying up a hill to safety. He watched the rushing wall of water drown others who could not escape. A massive fire broke out and engulfed half of the city.
He said he told himself, “This is the end; there is no tomorrow.”
For several dark winter nights, he drank sake and whiskey to keep from freezing to death. He used a cloth doused in alcohol to wash their baby.
Still traumatized a month later, he sent his wife and daughter to live with her parents in China. With no jobs in Kesennuma, he moved southwest down the coast to work in Choshi, Chiba province, which temporarily took over the shark-fin trade.
But his new boss, dealing with a bad economy and a global movement against serving shark-fin soup in restaurants, was insensitive to his plight.
Mr. Ishiwata quit and again joined the swelling ranks of the unemployed nationwide.
Passing through train stations, unsure where to go, he saw hundreds of homeless men, many from the disaster zone, sleeping on cold floors and streets. He wondered whether he would end up joining them.
Not able to find work, he went back to Kesennuma, where at least he had relatives and friends.
By chance, he ran into a man from Saitama province who offered to teach him how to make udon noodles by hand. The wheat flour noodles are widely used in Japanese dishes.
“I never thought I would be a noodle maker, until the day I actually learned to do it,” he said.
Volunteers from Lion’ Club International had set up a little “yatai” outdoor market with red lanterns in the port area. Because he still had a home and car as collateral, he was able to get a bank loan. Many other tsunami survivors lost everything.
On Oct. 12, he opened his shop, Mizuki, named after his daughter.
Day by day, life and commerce returned to the area. A giant crane lifted a hulking ship that the tsunami had pushed to the street back into the water.
Teams of local men and a few women in hard hats and uniforms removed millions of tons of wreckage from the south end of the city. Japan Railways reopened a train line connecting Kesennuma to Ichinoseki and Japan’s high-speed rail system.
People who endured up to five months in overcrowded shelters moved in with relatives or into temporary homes. A spirit of camaraderie, born of communal suffering, breathed joy into a city that many feared would never come back to life.
“We are beginning to overcome the tragedy of this year,” Mr. Ishiwata said. “People are starting to smile again. We appreciate all the things we have, especially our families and neighbors.”
Mr. Ishiwata said he wants to build up the handmade noodle business and hire as many unemployed people as he can, especially because the government is cutting off welfare benefits.
“We can’t just expect the government to give us things forever. This city belongs to us. We ourselves have to make things happen now.”
He is now optimistic that Kesennuma will recover.
“As we always say here, ‘We have nothing to fear anymore,’ ” he said. “We survived the tsunami. We can overcome anything.” -The Washington Times
Oct 9, 2011
Motorcycles Aren’t Just For The Boys
Cathy Walker can probably thank her mother for starting her lifelong love for motorcycles.
The Columbus, N.C., native was just 13 years old when her mom bought her a Sears & Roebuck SHP Briggs and Stratton bike, which Walker described as “like a lawnmower motor.”
It only lasted about a year before Walker ran it into a pine tree. She’s had about 10 more bikes since that first one.
Coming out for this week’s fall bike rally in Myrtle Beach on her low rider, Walker was one of thousands of female riders who aren’t happy just riding shotgun.
Of the 189,428 licensed motorcycle drivers in South Carolina, 19,452 are women, according to state statistics cited by The (Charleston) Post and Courier. And the number of women gripping the handlebars is growing. It’s already nearly 4,000 higher than in 2007.
Sonia Croom began her love for motorcycles eight years ago.
The inspiration? Attending the Myrtle Beach bike rallies.
“It’s just a great crowd of people,” Croom said. “Everybody’s like brothers and sisters.”
She came into this year’s fall rally atop a Harley-Davidson.
Riding means not worrying about anything else in life, Croom said, and just feeling very relaxed. She’s obviously not the only woman who appreciates riding.
The Motorcycle Industry Council, a national trade group, estimates that women own nearly 1 in 9 motorcycles.
In 2009, approximately 27 million people operated motorcycles and roughly 7.3 million of them were women, according to the MIC.
P.J. Rouse, who came from Carthridge, N.C., to Myrtle Beach for the bike rally, followed her husband’s example after he bought a motorcycle.
Rouse had no specific reason for enjoying bikes; she simply likes to ride. As for what she doesn’t like, that one’s easy: “the bugs.”
When Walker’s not busy riding, she works in Spartanburg loading tractor trailers with Michelin tires. She puts in 12-hour days for two weeks, and then has a week off. During that downtime, she’ll get in some bike time.
Walker keeps going to bike rallies because, like Croom, she enjoys meeting all the different people.
“Good, bad and ugly,” she said.
As for how long she’ll ride, Walker plans on making it a hobby for life.
“I’ll stay on two wheels until I can’t hold them up, and then I’ll go to three wheels,” she said. –Sun News
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Myrtle Beach Fall Harley Bike Fest
Pics by Sun News
Pics by Sun News
Sep 11, 2011
Jun 5, 2011
May 29, 2011
Oct 24, 2010
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