Forward

Please, edit and revise, and send back to me, if you don't mind.

2009-11-21T08:28:00.000-08:00

Alone, he sat, sipping his coffee, thinking about his next move. The light was sneaking past the heavy clouds outside the window, outside the café. He had left chaos and destruction behind him, that much he had resolved. What to do next? Resolve is only the beginning. What to do next?

He sipped his coffee.

Find a new job? Get a new apartment? New city, new friends? What constitutes change, what change constitutes progress? He knew that he had to do something, accomplish something, to finally finish those things he started. That’s where he should start. That’s where he should do. Instead, he sipped his coffee, looking at the light.

The clouds were dense; think foam hanging in the sky. It wasn’t quite like a blanket in the sky, more like endless pillows. Light was working its way around the giant puffs of faint translucence, struggling yet succeeding to reach the floor of the earth. He yearned to feel the warmth of the sun, the sensation of connection, connection to the world around him, to connect him back to reality.

He sipped his coffee. It was beginning to get a little cold. His leg began to fidget, the half empty mug began to spin in his hands. Twitchtwitch. Twitchtwitch.

Do something! Make something! Contribute something! the light that was working so hard to reach him said. See how far I’ve come? See the burdens I’ve borne, the hurdles I’ve leapt, the walls I’ve penetrated. Match that. Do something.

Do something, do something. He sat there. Twitchtwitch. What is there to do? What is there to do? What is there to do? What is there to do? The mug, spinning, offered no advice. The leg, twitching, pleaded the mug, “Look at all this energy I’ve got! Give me direction! Let me create!”

The mug, mute as ever, continued to spin. Until he took another sip.

This time, when he set the mug back down, it lay still. His hands collapsed upon themselves, resting on the rough-appearing though heavily lacquered-until-smooth-to-the-touch wooden table. Again he stared out the window, this time, however, letting the hard-working light illuminate the people outside the window, outside the café.

He noticed the runner passing in front, in the garb of an ironman competitor, and noticed her crossing paths with another runner. This guy, he was seriously overweight, and in the bagginess of his clothes he tried to hide it. But still, he had to acknowledge , the man ran.

He noticed the students studying outside the café, and inside the café. The nearest was sitting right in front of him, and he could see over her shoulder, see what she was working on. It looked like some essay about early American writers. It also looked like complete trash. But the girl still wrote. Maybe she didn’t know how awful her creation was. Or, more likely, she didn’t care.

What to do, to overcome these issues. How to see, how to act…are the two related? Do they connect? Or are they permanently at odds, our actions limiting our sight and our sight paralyzing our actions? The mug, mostly empty now, the coffee in it decidedly cold, was spinning once more. Though the twitchtwitching of his leg had subdued.

The spinning of the mug entranced him as he looked down, and the café floor fell out from around him, the table that supported the awful essay and the girl that wrote it was flung away, along with the rest of the tables. The counter faded to black, the walls crumbled, the roof flew away.

Alone, finally alone, he picked up his pen, and started to write a story. He wrote a story about a kid, a lot like himself, who sat at his desk in his parent’s house, and after leaving behind him destruction and chaos, picked up his copy of Second Volume of the North Anthology of American Literature, opened it up to Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, Written by Himself, and, after sitting, wrote an essay, a crappy, shitty shitty essay, but wrote an essay.

Violent Revolution

2009-04-30T20:38:00.001-07:00

Sometimes when reading I encounter passages like this one, from Nicholas Kristof's most recent column, and I wonder if I was around 30 years ago I'd be as willing to tackle the society's problems through government:

Some Americans used to argue that it was impossible to rape an unwilling woman. Few people say that today, or say publicly that a woman “asked for it” if she wore a short skirt. But the refusal to test rape kits seems a throwback to the same antediluvian skepticism about rape as a traumatic crime.

I feel like I'd be more predisposed to to violence. But that always makes me think: "What am I dismissing today?"

My phone's broke, but you can reach me at _________

2009-04-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

Sorry if confused you, my phone's actually in good shape. But I've seen twice in the last two days Fbook statuses like that.

It seems to me that there is a unique pleasure in having someone so close that you can be reached through them. Seems nice.

Do y'all agree?

7 cups of coffee and blue, blue sky

2009-04-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

Boxed in boxed in.

Boxed in by this glass this glass wall its got me trapped its got me trapped.
Its got me trapped this glass wall but its glass so it failed a little I guess ‘cause my eyes they aren’t trapped no my eyes they can still wander as they please, they look out into the world that surrounds me this world that I can’t touch or really even here but I can see yes I can see.

Whats this whats this?

Where am I going, where is this taking me? I can still see I can see all around but I can’t see where I’m headed or why I’m headed there. Why can’t I see? Why can’t I see?
Wait a second, wait a second. This glass, it isn’t so glassy actually, its more like something else. Not quite sure though, but it seems to me that I might be able to put my hand through it. Yeah, I think that I might.

Though I s’pose I could put my hand through glass too, huh. But I’d have to be ready for some pain, am I ready for some pain?

The future is here, ya'll!

2009-04-10T11:21:00.001-07:00

Our eternal Messiah complex

2009-03-25T15:57:00.000-07:00

H.G. Wells on FDR:

[For] some months at least before and after his election as American President and the holding of the London Conference there was again a whispering hope in the world that a real “Man” had arisen, who would see simply and clearly, who would speak plainly to all mankind and liberate the world from the dire obsessions and ineptitudes under which it suffered and to which it seemed magically enslaved. ...

[...] Everywhere as the Conference drew near men were enquiring about this possible new leader for them. “Is this at last the Messiah we seek, or shall we look for another?”

Every bookshop in Europe proffered his newly published book of utterances, Looking Forward, to gauge what manner of mind they had to deal with. It proved rather disconcerting reading for their anxious minds. Plainly the man was firm, honest and amiable, as the frontispiece portrait with its clear frank eyes and large resolute face showed, but the text of the book was a politician’s text, saturated indeed with good will, seasoned with much vague modernity, but vague and wanting in intellectual grip. “He’s good,” they said, “but is this good enough?”

(Courtesy Andrew Sullivan)

We just really, really, really want Messiah's, huh. Or is it because we wish that we were Messiahs?

Seriously

2009-03-23T17:30:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from Politico's "Ten Ways to Recoup the Bonuses":

4) Rescind the contracts: If the bonus recipients won’t renegotiate, simply withdraw the contracts under which they received the bonuses. “Every first-year law student learns that a court can invalidate a contract’s ‘unconscionable’ terms, rescind it or reform it,” James P. Tutill, a lecturer at the University of California-Berkeley law school blogged over the weekend. “If these bonus contracts benefiting the very people who have destroyed incalculable amounts of wealth in the pursuit of their own personal greed don’t warrant revision, rescission or reformation, then our legal system is seriously deficient."

(emphasis mine)

This will wake you up

2009-03-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

There's nothing quite like the mother of all funk to get you out of bed in the morning.

2009-03-13T23:21:00.000-07:00

I was at a buddy's house tonight, and I was enjoying myself for the most part. I drank a coupla beers before I left, but by the time I got there I was done. It was sweet to see these old friends, these familiar faces that kept me buoyant during high school when I felt that everything just wanted to drag me down the bottom of the sea. I was made content by those faces.

At one point, though, I was crossing into a room of personal creativity and individual production; my buddy Will was rhymin', goin' on some 15 minutes at that point, while Brock and, well, I don't know the name of that other kid, well, they were workin' on some art in the street art discpline, if it can be called that. I suppose that its more of a tradition, now. Definitely more of a tradition.

Anyway, feeling that I had nothing to offer myself, but eager to remain and appreciate their creations, I looked for something to pretend to do while I took in their beauty. I saw that the Metro section of the Journal Sentinal was laying on the dinning room table, so I picked it up. Usually that paper is such a rag, I musta thought, there's no way that it'd say something that I would be interested in.

Wrong. I was wrong. I was so wrong.

"Shorewood man arrested in Whitefish bay teen's drug death."

My mom told me about this story two weeks earlier, and that night the whole family talked about it. I knew next to nothing about the details, but I remember making a point to tell my little brother "to take this very seriously." I see enough of my friends doing perscription drugs illegally, and since this story, I've learned that I would know nothing about telling the difference between someone passing out 'cause they had too many and passing out 'cause they were about to die.

All that I knew was that I didn't know how to tell if someone was going to die, and I wanted to make sure that my little brother didn't ever, ever feel comfortable around these kinds of drugs, despite whatever bullshit the people who take them tell you. Its much, much better to overreact, then to underreact.

And this time, I realize it. To anyone who reads this blog who takes offense to that statement, I don't give a flying fuck. I'll take your indignance, I end a friendship. I will not, under any circumstances, believe you if you try to tell me that illegally consumed perscription drugs shouldn't be treated seriously, very seriously.

Yes, the system's not perfect. Whatever. I'd rather more people live unhappy, in the hopes that they will find the opportunity to find their value, rather then hear some bullshit about how its really ok for people to take those kinds of risks themselves.

There's no such thing as putting your life in serious danger yourself. The number of people who could die without leaving some one behind marks less then one hundreth of one percent of this population, so I won't here you bullshit. I don't give a fuck if you don't realize that the rest of us care about you. This is a selfish thing. I will not stand by and let you kill yourself. My opinion of you matters too.

Well, as you can tell, I read that article, and barely got through the first 3 paragraphs before I couldn't read anymore. It was too much, for me. I value life too much, contemplated death too often, to come to terms with it. I needed to get outside.

I through on my boots, and fell onto the porch steps behind two of my buddies, and they were talking about MF Doom. Will was out there, the one rhyming, and Alex. Two kids that I consider my closest friends. My earliest memory of Alex dates back 12 years, but I've known him longer. Will and I have lived across the street from each other since high school, then we moved to college and we're still living next to each other. Crazy.

I was sitting there aware of their conversation, but that story was burning in my head. I waited for their conversation to die down, and as I waited I appreciated the cold biting my skin, reassuring me of my life, my vibrancy. A hole openned up, and I told them what I thought.

I was told that that kind of thing happens with black people the time. Asked when the last time I responded like that when a poor person died this way. Told that people make a big deal when white people die. "Too socially aware," one said, "not a bad thing, though." Then why do I feel so incredibly bad for not feeling this way when it happened to the kid in the hood, the kid who had no college hopes, or at least society said so?

I felt so confronted, still feel so confronted, with my inablilty to care for all people, to fight for all causes, to stand for everything that is right. Its so hard, somedays, to believe that the things that I fight for could be wrong, that the things I feel could be corrupted by my very luck of being born into a family with finacial stabililty.

Why is it that our aspirations can be corrupted by our position, yet our actions can be so corrupted by our location?

That is the world that I think we can create, with a healthy balance of self-interest and social interest. I damn confident that I'm right too, even though I'm not ready to argue it. But everyday I go and I see more and more that is right with world, even when I see what is has gone wrong, I see what is right, and I'm convinced that we can create a world that takes no creation at all, that is inherently everybody's world. Fuck you, I'm an idealist. Fuck you, I'm going to fight for what's impossible, and I don't care if my impossible kills other people's dreams. I believe that my impossible is better than your possible any day of the mother fucking week, and beyond that, I'm pretty damn sure that it has room for your impossible too. You just gotta be ready to believe in the impossible.

Its been an emotional week.

Courtesy Brock Teter

2009-03-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

Again, hat tip to JBT

Why I don't feel so bad about losing my Student ID

2009-03-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

2009-03-10T12:47:00.000-07:00

Two days ago, an accident occurred during Colleen's backpacking trip in Patagonia.

You can read about it http://www.aspendailynews.com/section/home/133105

I talked to some of you about this today, some of you I didn't, and I'm sorry for that. But I just got off the phone with Colleen's mom, and she spoke with Colleen last night, on the telephone. I wanted to make clear a couple of things.

Colleen reports being both physically and emotionally healthy. She expects to that the trip will go on: Outward Bound is sending in additional staff, they're going to spend a lot of time figuring their shit out, but Colleen said that the group remained strong, actively dealing with the tragedy.

My apologies for the dryness of this post. To write any other way would be too hard. I hope to capture the depth of pride and love and compassion and gratitude for Colleen, for the family of Travis Lizotte, and the role of the dice, but right now, I can do it no justice.

UPDATE: If some of you check this post before 3:45 PM, then you saw a different article then is up now. The new article tells a lot more about Travis Lizotte, the man who died.

UPDATE 3:50: Its not clear whether or not Colleen fell in the Crevasse. She did not, she was not one of the students who went to the hospital.

My lovely printer

2009-03-07T07:44:00.001-08:00

Every time I have a deadline, I think "Today's the today!" My heart fills with hope and I plug my printer into my computer believing that there will be no problems.

Every times its more like this:

Mistabishi - Printer Jam from Hospital Records on Vimeo.

Woah, check it!

2009-02-23T22:10:00.000-08:00

http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2009/02/does-blogging-m.html

Greatestest Generation?

2009-02-15T21:52:00.000-08:00

My grandma came to see me graduate high school last year. My grandpa too. It was an extra special occasion, because not only was I graduating high school (no one was sure 'til the absolute last minute), but I was giving the speech (the last minute actually had to bumped up so we could know before the school printed the programs). Her appearance was only out of the ordinary in that she was 83, my grandpa was a stroke victim, and they lived in Iowa: driving to Milwaukee was a painful experience. Irregardless of all that, my grandma was, unexpectedly, proud. Well, we've all got grammas, right? We know how they are.

Anyway, after the speech was given and the ceremony celebrated, Grandma came up to me, gave me a most-wonderful Grandma hug, and congradulated me, beaming. But then she told me something special, something I likely won't ever forget, "You know Ty, I've been reading in the newspaper that you guys, your generation, you're going to be the next Greatest Generation."

Telling me about how the New York Times was saying we're compassion and adaptable and all these other things that are wonderful, the kinds of things that every grandma wants to tell her grandkids, I was struck. Usually I dismiss these kinds of things, I hate fatalism, refuse to believe in higher purposes, and try to avoid letting my Grandma's compliments go to my ego too much.
But this, I don't know, it rang in my ears like nothing else. Still today, when I think about the kids I graduated with, I can't help but think, "hot damn."

But just now, I was reading Paul Krugman's recent Op-Ed piece and realized that there is one difference between us and the former Greatest Generation, one that will define our future, our prosperity, our freedom. See, Grandmas was born in 1934, right in the middle of the Great Depression; too say that she learned to save would mean the half of it.

Our ability to save will define our success.

Therrre we go

2009-02-06T13:23:00.000-08:00

This makes me breath a little bit easier.

I was a proud Catholic once. But then Phillip Pulman got in the way.

2009-02-02T14:18:00.001-08:00

An innocent boy poisoned by guilt looked up at the bearded and bespectacled man signing his book. Teeming with curiosity, the boy overcame his shyness and asked the man a question that had been bothering him since finishing the man’s last book: “Excuse me, sir, but do you really believe what you write?”

The man with the beard and glasses, finished his signature and looked up at the boy, “What do you mean, do I believe that Lyra exists?”

No, that’s not it, the boy thought, but he couldn’t find the words to correct him, and his head nodded in agreement.

The man told the boy that the books were fantasy, creations of his mind. Of course the boy knew that, and left the bookshop disappointed. He loved the man’s books, got lost in their mystery and wonder, but his message didn’t really make much sense. Why is God a false god, one to be torn down? Why is the Church an oppressive force, an army led by corruption?

I mean, in real-life, the Church is good and whole, and God is loving, complete and perfect, right? Really though, right?

Also...

2009-01-31T14:14:00.000-08:00

Guilty pleasure:

Self-confidence and arrogance-Draft one.

2009-01-31T13:33:00.001-08:00

In the middle of the campaign, I realized that my desire to lead was in no small part due to an ambition to be succesful. How I want to lead, those motivations are quite different, and are influenced by a much more broad social awareness. But my desire to be President of the United States of America...that's stems from my arrogance and my cockiness as much as my desire to see change. And I began to struggle with that.

Quickly, I tried to apply that perspective to politicians at large, be it POTUS or School Board Rep, and I realized, only people who are arrogant enough to believe that they alone are the best for the position (why else run?) will ever step into the ring.

Now, I believe that this kind of cynacism toward politics has long since been intergrated into our culture, and certainly don't believe that this line of thought is anything new.

But the cultural acceptance of the arrogance of politicians its pitted against our societies need for our politicians to appear less than self centered; shaking hands, trips to soup kitchens, building homes with whatever. Acts of charity.

But how can that act of charity be selfless, when it gets them elected?

The point that I hope to make, if not today, someday, is that the concept of political office is inherently flawed, and even in concept corrupted, as it is based on appearances and perceptions, the two of which being the most variable aspects of our world.

Controlling my appearance is formulaic, and altering your perspective is easier than you'll let yourself think. And if your perspective is out of your control, think about the hundreds of millions of fellow citizens and billions of your fellow human that haven't been given the opportunity for self awareness like you've been given.

I think that it is very, very important for to recongnize the flaws that are buried within our system, because only then can we use our system to its fullest extent. I should say that I truly believe that democracy and capitalism together combine to form a society that creates the most opportunity for development of all people, and that our form of democracy, with all its flaws, stays true to the ideals that we set out with.

I believe that we must always fight, uncompromising, for what we believe is right. But I believe that to be most successful in our fight, we must recognize first what the world is, and recognize second what it isn't. Because when we pit ourselves against institutions, we must understand their strengths as they relate to their weaknesses, rather than strengths and weaknesses and when it comes to our democratic systems, we tend to understand its strengths independently from its weaknesses, attacking one without recognizing how it will affect the other.

Because we cannot create things without flaws, as we ourselves are flawed.

And that's ok.

How to save newspapers

2009-01-30T07:26:00.000-08:00

I was going to post this on Twitter, but then I realized that I was mostly curious in all of y'all's reactions to the piece, so I decided to through it up here.

Its an Op-Ed piece in the times, and puts forth a fascinating argument.

2009-01-27T14:00:00.000-08:00

This is the part of that, that I really think is most valuable.

"But here’s the thing that’s most important to me, that you take the spirit the, culture of this campaign, that you keep applying it not just campaigns. That sense of possibility that you guys can do anything that you guys can reimagine the world that you can lead not by trying to manipulate your way or by trying to push down somebody else but that you can lead through the force of your example, and your discipline and your creativity. I just hope that you carry that with you everywhere you go, because that’s what America needs right now, active citizens like you. Who are willing to turn towards each other, talk to people you’ve never met and say “common lets go do this, lets go change the world, lets go teach our children, lets go figure out a way to make the healthcare system work for every American lets go make sure that there’s accountability in our government. Lets go to other countries and spread the word of freedom and democracy but also prosperity and equality and justice. What an enormous force you’ve got inside yourselves. Don’t put that on the shelf and wait for the next four years. Next week, next month, next year, for the rest of your lives, cling on to that essential thing about you. What made this campaign special was YOU, and don’t let anyone take that away from you. Because I promise you, if everybody in this hall is willing to keep doing what you guys did over the last two years, then I’m optimistic about America. I may make some mistakes but you’ll set me right, and after I’m out of office and you’ll set the next person right, and maybe someday you’ll be in office and you’ll set the country right and maybe you’ll never be in office but you’ll make your neighborhood right, or you’ll make your job right. I am confident in you, I have faith in you, I am grateful to you, you, together, can change the world."

I'm struck by a great desire to create

2009-01-25T15:03:00.001-08:00

little boy, trying to be big
he reaches for the net,
"someday, i'll dunk!"

turns out that dunking
has a lot more do it
than just height.

This brought me back to tears.

2009-01-21T15:02:00.001-08:00

I thought I was done.

And why the hell didn't I go to DC??????

Pondering Pondering

2009-01-19T11:01:00.000-08:00

A couple months ago I visited Patrick in Portland. He was still in school, so I had some time to kick around on my own. I decided I'd take his bike and cruise around in downtown Portland, to check out the scene but mainly to investigate Powell's Books, a four story book store comprising an entire city block. Save for a cafe in the corner, the entire space is filled with books.

On the second floor, in the north west corner, they have two stacks dedicated to books about former presidents. Along the walls surrounding the stacks are books about African-American History--one of those walls is solely civil-rights. I couldn't have found a better place, having just come off of 5 extremely full months working for Barack Obama.

I spent about 3 hours in those two sections, pouring over books about Benjamin Franklin, slavery, James Polk, Richard Nixon, Malcolm X, Bill Clinton, FDR, JFK, RFK, MLK, and so, so much more. Finally, I tallied the books that I picked up: 14. I groaned. Too much! I thought, and began the process of whittling down my choices.

The one on James Polk? I didn't even know the name before I saw the book. How much can I really want to read him.

3 books about Robert Kennedy? He was killed before he could make much of a difference, right? Do I really need three?

Logic or not, I couldn't part with those books. So I decided instead just to get them. I had 2 months before I would go to school, I figured. I can knock plenty of these down.

So I piled them up and began to navigate my way back to the register (they almost reached my nose), and had the whole pile shipped to my house. Nearly 3 months later, I haven't finished a single book. I am, however, closer than I've been yet. Since I've arrived in Madison, I've spent more time reading than in the last three months combined.

The book is Martin Luther King Jr.'s Why We Can't Wait, his account of the direct-action they took to end segregation in Birmingham. I've also started reading Malcolm X Speaks a compilation of speeches he gave in the year before his assassination put together by his wife Betty Shabazz.

Reading this books have brought with them moments of intense reflection. I wasn't born into a time when segregation was legal, yet I grew up in a village that in 2000 was 91% white, and 2.5% black, next to a city that is 43% white and 39% black and in a county that is 65.5% white and 25.5% black. In my lifetime, my city has known no riots, nor serious protest. Perhaps this is solely ignorance, but I haven't seen my community unite under any banner or behind any cause, for better or worse. We have been a community of complacency.

I wonder where the energy and the anger from the civil-rights movement went, about whether the quality of our leaders has diminished, and how to break from our current status and bring together again in revolution.

I wonder why I haven't read X before, why the only exposure I had to MLK was copying his "I have a Dream" speach in grade school as detention and reading "A Letter from a Birmingham Jail" in AP English.

I wonder why I wasn't more impressed by what I already knew about both these men, and seeing the profound affect these men had on their society, I wonder why we don't have leaders like that today.

I Have a Dream

2009-01-18T09:00:00.001-08:00

We the People

2009-01-18T08:58:00.000-08:00

A Letter from a Birmingham Jail

2009-01-18T07:12:00.000-08:00

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.

BREAKING NEWS

2009-01-17T13:44:00.000-08:00

I just got this email from the New York Times:

Breaking News Alert
The New York Times
Saturday, January 17, 2009 -- 4:26 PM ET
-----

Israel Announces Cease-Fire in Gaza

Israel announced a unilateral cease-fire on Saturday evening
in the three-week-old war in Gaza that has killed at least
1,200 Palestinians and 13 Israelis. Prime Minister Ehud
Olmert told Israelis in a televised address: "The conditions
have been created that our aims, as declared, were attained
fully, and beyond."

Read More:
http://www.nytimes.com/?emc=na

To put that in perspective, that would be like if you had 12 dollars in your pocket and 13 cents fell out.

Really?????????????????????????????????????????????

Update from 472 Selery

2009-01-16T16:20:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry for the eerie wink at the end of that...

sisyphean task

2009-01-15T09:15:00.000-08:00

writing has always been a Sisyphean task for me, but recently its been exaggerated. every time i struggle to capture something in words and trap something within a sentence and create something within a paragraph i miss. kind of as if i were playing darts. i'm no good at that either.

i sit here, desperately wanting to write something that would express the intenseness of my frustration and the height of my excitement. and everytime i put something on this page, i like it just a little bit. so i work on it, and work on it, and suddenly its trash again. the boulder comes tumbling down the hill.

the thing about my particular sisyphean task is that i don't have all the gods of olympus requiring that i keep writing. just the demons in my head. so what's keeps me putting words on the page? is that even a sentence?

I'm going to go eat breakfast, and try again.

And one becomes two.

2009-01-13T18:02:00.000-08:00

The orange hung in the air. I brought the samurai-sword like knife behind me. The fruit came closer, closer, falling as it approached. I swung, neatly slicing the orange; the two halves fell at my feet.

I have a pretty good guess as to what the orange felt as it approached that blade, out of control, yet perfectly aware of what was to come.

Its a shitty feeling.

We must abandon all support for Israel.

2009-01-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

As the United States of America, we can in no way shape or form condone the violence that Israel has wrought upon the people of Palestine. The New York Times Reports that at the least 446 Palestinians have been killed and that over 2000 are wounded. Yesterday the Israeli attacks claimed the lives of 11, while they were worshiping at a mosque. Some were children.

This can not stand.

The United States has lost a lot of moral ground over the course of the last eight years, and the world started to look down on us. But the world is looking for a leader right now, and we are in the position to set an example for it to follow. We must end any and all support for the State of Israel, be it financial, diplomatic, or military.

Barack Obama has a responsibility to the people who elected him to end the violence in Palestine, not only because he promise a change in policy and practices but because it was the downtrodden and voiceless in America that put him in office.

It is the same downtrodden and voice in Palestine who now are losing their lives.

So for Obama to live up both to his creed and the people who support him, for Obama to become the leader we need, and for our country to set an example that the world can follow, we need to end the violence in Palestine.

Two Thousand and Eight

2008-12-31T22:30:00.000-08:00

Real quick, before I lose this opportunity, I wanted to reflect on 2008. This year, from start to finish, has left me indelibly marked.

There is simply too much to say. From when it started, in an vacant home's basement, to now ,this house that is built around love, my life has changed for ever. While I've had vision, I've always lacked purpose. My ideas were always strong (at least I thought) but I never had a reason to act on them.

For a long, long time, I felt empty.

But then I learned about what makes me me. I learned about the things that I love, about the things that I'm passionate about. I realized what it takes to take my passion and turn it into things and change and action and reality. That realization has been holistic, and the best way to show this is to tell you who brought them about, because I'm quite, quite sure that you'll understand their differences, for you know them both intimately.

Thank you, Colleen.
Thank you, Campaign for Change.

You have shown me how to always take the next step.

Too much pride will bring you down

2008-12-24T08:33:00.000-08:00

Especially if your name starts with Tim and ends with Hawks.

For example, if you tell your son, "No you can't go pick up your sister because you'll get lost we can't afford to lose the time today," and then proceed to go do the picking up yourself but end up in Old Saybrook (where there is no train station) rather than New Haven (where there is a train station) because you didn't follow the directions that you wife gave you.

Maybe you should have let your son drive. He knows how to follow directions, but if he doesn't get lost he won't let the experience ruin Christmas Eve, especially not for everyone around him.

Hm, hm, hm, hm, hmmmm.

2008-12-21T22:02:00.001-08:00

Did you know that there's a particle accelerator in Europe that some hypothesize is large enough to create a black hole?

Some times I feel like life is like that. We're all particles, getting thrown around at insanely fast speeds, colliding and creating new particles, new elements, new basics.

But who knows when we'll create a black hole?

Christmas for Charlie, I need your help!

2008-12-19T14:33:00.001-08:00

Soooo, little Charlie is always, always looking for new music to get into, and he's already exhusted my (meager) library. I was hoping that I could get a whole bunch of my friends to help me out by burning their two favorite albums (absolutely no restrictions on what those albums are) and then giving me the cds so that I can give them to Charlie.

So, I know I talked to some of you about this earlier, but I'm going to remind/inform you all of my plan for my little brother's Christmas present.

I'm really, really excited for this present. Its got the potential to the be the singular best Christmas present idea I have ever had. It just requires a lot of help from all of you. So pleeeeasssse help me. It would make me sooo happy. :) :) :)

I'll get you the blank cds, just let me know if you can help me out.

Also, it was brought to my attention that we don't want to get dublicates, so I greated a google spreadsheet for people to sign out the albums that they will burn.

John's a tool and wants a link, so here it is.
if you'd rather copy and paste: http://spreadsheets.google.com/ccc?key=pK6d-MBRaxCKOdFLVb4eXaQ

Its not that big of a deal though, so if we end up giving him two copies of the same cd, it won't be the end of the world. There is a column where you can indicate whether or not you've burned the albums, so I can come get them.

Thank you all soooo much for helping me give the a great Christmas present.

VBLOG-BETA

2008-12-18T12:50:00.000-08:00

John Harrison + Tyler Hawks = H^2

Poetry

2008-12-14T23:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, my life feels like poetry.

On those days, I feel like I need to give some back.

Awesome

2008-12-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

Later, with employees gathered in the cafeteria, Mr. Robles asked for a show of hands of how many would be willing to stay at the factory. All hands went up, with shouts of, “Sí, se puede!” — or “Yes, we can!”

I can't believe I didn't post this sooner.

2008-12-13T12:44:00.001-08:00

'nuff said.

Ahhhh

2008-12-13T12:25:00.000-08:00

Ideologues take on pragmatism!!!

oh fuck!

2008-12-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

shit's blowing up in the sky!

exploding boulders! billowing in the sky!

oh fuck, oh fuck! quick everyone we've got some shit headddddded our wayyyy!

This whirlwind adventure is so strange.

2008-12-10T11:15:00.000-08:00

The twists and turns of our eternal battle to understand, appreciate, expand and develop our individual perspectives perplex me.

Some days I wake up, and I feel like I'm somewhere new.

But usually I'm just in my bed.

Every interaction, with its prejudices, presumptions, pretenses and and assumptions, astounds me. Our ability to communicate effectively (sometimes) through that murky marsh impresses me. This marsh is like the everglades: teeming with life and motion, full of potential for growth and development, but you never know where the alligator or snake is hiding under the water ready to pounce and bite your leg off or inject you with venom that will paralyze you and make you stop breathing.

I get scared of this realm, sometimes.

But we've figured out ways to get through this world pretty safe. We hide ourselves in giant flat bottom boats with fans so large that, if they were in Kansas, could spark a tornado. We speed through the marsh, going only were we need to go because we are reasonable sure that there are no alligators there. Because if we get off the boat just for a second...

CHOMP!

You've lost your leg. Sure, you can get a peg to replace it, but its not the same.

Should I fear losing my leg? Is my attachment to my bodily limbs limiting my ability, my fear of pain capping my capacity?

Should I be trying to find ways to actively dissuade the beasts of the marsh from harming me, rather than simply avoiding them?

The answer is yes.

I'm astounded by the prejudices, presumptions, pretenses and assumptions of communication between people, but its the prejudices, presumptions, pretenses and assumptions of communication within myself that really confound me.

Fuck.

2008-12-07T13:09:00.001-08:00

That's all.

Football season is the best season.fffff

2008-12-07T12:17:00.000-08:00

The Packers never fail to make me exceedingly happy.

Well, sometimes they do. I suppose it will be most accurate to say that the Packers, when they make me happy, make me happier than most other things.

14-13!!!! YES WE CAN!

But, I'm going to commit myself to writing more, in more ways. So, I'll follow with a more thorough post soon. Until then, ya'll should be watching Aaron Rodgers light it up.

Fuck, the D's not looking so hot...

This was how I needed tonight to go.

2008-12-01T23:27:00.000-08:00

I owe you more than I'll ever be able to repay.

portland update.

2008-11-23T18:10:00.001-08:00

i'm about to go to the dark room with pat, and find out if his bacteria glows.

sorry guys, but reed college is number one.

talk is cheap

2008-11-15T17:56:00.000-08:00

henry paullson killed the economy.

2008-11-12T21:23:00.000-08:00

at least, thats my best guess.

he used nearly 43% of the fund given to him and 83% of the funds available to him in a plan that has done absolutely nothing.

we are running out of options.

will there be anything left for barack obama to fix, if he even can?

Some days, I wish I believed in God.

2008-11-12T20:14:00.000-08:00

I think that I've been avoiding this post. It is really hard for me to write about what I've done with my last 5 months.

Its meant so much to me. Never in my life had I given so much of me to something. Never in my life had I poured this much heart into a singular goal, to achieve a singular task.

And I've never, ever succeed in such a way.

I miss Lily Friedman.

I miss sitting in my office with her, our desks facing each other, as we ate breakfast (on good days) and listened to the morning regional conference calls. I miss adding dial numbers frantically, as we tried fervently to get our numbers in before the nightly state wide calls.

I miss falling asleep in South Milwaukee.

I miss making volunteer calls, I miss making persuasion calls. I miss canvassing.
I miss talking to 100s of people in a day, listening to people, engaging with people.

I miss Max, and his moodiness but mostly his resilience, Mike, and his creativity and inspiration, Deb for her consistency and wisdom, Greg for his humor, Javier for his professionalism, Kalpa for her perseverance. I miss Lee and Scott for their military commitment. I miss Vanessa for her compassion and toughness.

I miss Robert, who was and will always be there with me.

And I want to thank everyone I've met since I joined, and everyone whose touched my life directly and indirectly from Kenny Miller to Barack Obama, for showing me pragmatism.

I used to say that I looked forward to missing my first appointment, that I "couldn't wait to be 18 again." Now that I have, and that I am, I can't but see how woefully arrogant I was, to diminish the importance of every appointment, or to diminish the importance of being 18.

I cherish those nights that I stayed up till 5 working, and got up at 8, and the morning that I got up at 5 after going to bed at 3.

I want to fall back into the structure of something bigger than me.

Go time.

2008-11-05T16:38:00.000-08:00

I'm so crazy excited about everything that I've done for the last 5 months.

I do feel satisfied, proud, and confident.

That said, we haven't accomplished anything. Not yet.

And so here's my take: Now we go forward, with all of our hearts, bodies and minds, to tackle the beast that lies before us. We've been given the tools, the opportunity, and the support.

We're out of excuses.

Let's take our time to celebrate, because it's important too, and lets fucking enjoy it.

We did this. We are the fire that fuels this movement for change. We are Progress's soldiers, the warriors for truth, and the agents of change.

I want to thank everyone of you, those that I know who read this blog. I love each and every one of you tremendously, and I cherish everything you've taught me.

You've taught me what it means devote yourself.
You've taught me what it means to challenge popular belief.
You've taught me what it means to enjoy each moment that we are given.
You've taught me to appreciate beauty, to love learning, and the value of dedication.

You've taught me so much. More than I could ever list. It has shaped me, defined (by means of removing definition) my vision. But above all else, I want to thank you for instilling in me the importance of community, and every value that is required for a community to take shape.

Thank you for challenging me to communicate, to see the world from your point of view, and to appreciate the multitude of gifts that we all bring to to the table. I will never be able to repay you for that.

But in return for all these gifts, I want to make a promise, a promise to everyone who has allowed me to join them on this journey. I promise to use what you have given to me to expand and further challenge our community. Because may I'll never be able to teach you as much as you've taught me, but I know that someone out there will.

And so after a short respite, I'm going to go Forward.

i've organized my self out of a job

2008-11-04T10:18:00.002-08:00

and now i'm shooting myself for it.

i want something to do!!!

Dawn

2008-11-04T04:46:00.000-08:00

So I'm listening to Fischer Spooner's "Sweetness," on the Genius play list for Daft Punk's "Digital Love", the sun is rising in the window next to my desk, and all of my volunteers so far are happy.

Its going to be a good day, folks.

Its going to be a great day.

But who's going to keep up?

So some of you may have trouble sleeping...

2008-11-04T01:08:00.001-08:00

...but I'm about to fall asleep, quite easily and quite happily.

Granted, it will be for two hours. Irregardless of that or anything, I just want to point out that on this night, I'm going to fall asleep.

And I'm sleeping on concrete.

FYI I hope to make it to my computer sometime during the day tomorrow, and again wednesday morning, because those will be good moments of reflection.

I cried today.

2008-11-02T18:51:00.000-08:00

Yep. I cried.

Lily started talking about the how big this election was, and first I had goosebumps shoot down my spine, the back of my neck kinda tightened up, my eyes misted and a tear fell.

It was a short cry.

Now, the thing is, I haven't cried in...forever. I've been incredibly sad, and wanted desperately to cry, but nothing happened. I've been unbelievably happy, and wanted to cry. Still nothing.

I love being able to express how I feel. I really, really do. But its only because I'm so fucking incredibly drained.

I'm just so exhausted.

I want to put my head down, sometimes.

But then, all of a sudden, a smile will cross my face,

Because we knocked on almost 1,000,000 doors this weekend.

avalanche

2008-11-01T14:14:00.000-07:00

the grandest mountain will always fear the smallest bird.

god forbid it meet an eagle

a ton of bricks

2008-10-31T22:05:00.001-07:00

ever feel like a ton of bricks has been dropped on you?

well, right now i feel kinda like that. except its more like i'm being waterboarded. with bricks in stead of water.

its hard to breathe, my face hurts, and every time i see the light at the end of the tunnel, they let up just enough to bring me back.

but mainly its hard to breathe.

You should get to know this face

2008-10-26T22:09:00.001-07:00

I wrote this early last night but forgot to post it.

2008-10-26T20:38:00.001-07:00

So i'm sitting in ma Fischer's right now, waiting for some organizers to get some food with me, and I figured now'd be a good time to recognize.

To recognize that in my hard work and total immersion of campaign organizing, I had lost some of my inspiration.

But now I feel it again.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

impressed

2008-10-25T22:33:00.000-07:00

I'm so impressed and intimidated by others' ability to write.

my motivation and inspiration.

2008-10-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

Obama Campaign Worker Allegedly Attacked

Victim Talks To 12 News In Exclusive Interview

POSTED: 8:26 pm CDT October 18, 2008

UPDATED: 11:44 pm CDT October 18, 2008

CALEDONIA, Wis. -- Police in Caledonia are investigating the assault of a campaign volunteer as she was canvassing for Senator Barack Obama Saturday afternoon.In an exclusive interview with 12 News, 58 year-old Nancy Takehara of Chicago says she was going door-to-door when she came across a disgruntled homeowner.“The next thing I know he’s telling us we’re not his people, we’re probably with ACORN, and he started screaming and raving,” Takehara said. “He grabbed me by the back of the neck. I thought he was going to rip my hair out of my head. He was pounding on my head and screaming. The man terrified me.”

The man eventually stopped and the Caledonia police were called. Takehara was asked if she needed medical assistance, but she was not seriously injured. Instead, she says she was shaken up by the homeowner’s reaction.“This negative stuff has to stop,” said Takehara. “We’re all Americans. This is all about protecting our democracy, not about attacking each other.”Takehara was encouraged when she had a message waiting at home from the candidate she is fighting for.

Takehara called back and she and Senator Obama talked one-on-one.Takehara said, “Senator Obama understood… it was wonderful. It made me feel wonderful. It made me feel connected to this government again.”The Obama campaign did not want to comment on the incident at this time.Police tell 12 News they are still investigating the case and will forward the complaint to the Racine County District Attorney’s office after it’s completed.

Love.

2008-10-18T23:40:00.000-07:00

My oldest sister, Colleen, got married today.

I couldn't be happier for her, for her new husband, and all the people that they are going to touch throughout their lives.

Colleen Hawks is an amazing women. Her Maid of Honor, my sister Laura, had asked me to help her with her toast, so we spent a couple of minutes early today going over what she had written. We talked about her talents, like an amazing sense of direction, being able to change a flat, and being pretty bad ass in general, and that was fun.

But was also had a chance to talk about her qualities, those things that she inherently embodies, the things that Laura and I look up to Colleen for. And what we were most captured by was her infinite capacity for love and compassion.

Everything I learned about treating people well, I learned from her.

Everything I learned about staying positive, I learned from her.

Everything I learned showing respect, and treating people with compassion, Colleen taught me.

Colleen Catherine Hollan, I hope to one day love the way you do, to work the way you do, and to live out your passions the way you do, but thank you for at least showing me how its done.

I'm so proud to be your brother.

I'll never say "sorry"

2008-10-16T00:21:00.000-07:00

Luke Grosser taught us to respect every POV.

He also taught us never to say sorry.

What I do know is that almost entirely, each and every one of you were correct and right and real, in your response to me. I owe you more than a blog post, and I hope to reach you before this blog gets posted (I delayed the post a little bit, so that I could reach all of you). No, this post is about moving forward.

For me, right now, I am prone to moments of frustration. I'm working 16-18 hour days. That means that I get very few outlets for dealing with a lot of the tension and anxiety I feel. And there is a lot of that.

Sometimes, its going to manifest itself in a way that is negative, or insulting, or demeaning.

Please, call me out for it. I'm not going to ask for your understanding, because I've already got it. I'm not going to ask you to ignore me, because my frustration is real too.

I'm certainly not going to ask for your forgiveness.

The reality is that I'm always going to have moments of self-centered frustration, and it may on occasion manifest itself here. So don't be surprised if it pops up again.

And the firestorm descended...

2008-10-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

...well. I wrote something last night, and scheduled it to be posted it at midnight tonight, but I ended up writing this, in response to an email sent to me. and I decided this was better. I'll probably let that other post go up too, but this is more important.

"Firstly, I think that everything you've said, and Alex too, is real. I don't challenge you on any point.

What I wrote was largely inappropriate, and disrespectful.

I haven't been able to show my appreciation for you. I haven't been able to show my respect for you. I didn't feel like I could do it in writing. It wouldn't do the job.

I did the most I could to have real conversation with you. I was hoping I could show you at least that much respect. But everything I had wasn't enough. So it goes.

While I won't defend that post, I'm not apologizing for it either.

Because you're right, I've got a lot of pressure on me right now, and there are nights were I come home and I hear the stories about concerts and fires on beaches and its frustrating. Its frustrating because I haven't had a day off since the beginning of August.

I just think that it's important that we all look at those posts as moments, and we all have moment's when our vision is narrowed.

I'm not approaching that blog as a way to capture my most conscience self, but my least. More an outlet to capture some of the flashes of inspiration and frustration that hit me from day to day than soap box to preach from. Maybe it's irresponsible blogging, but at the same time, I got to hear a lot more of people's opinions than I've heard for months.

And the frankness and honesty was appreciated."

Thank you all, for your responses. I need you, and sometimes I'm going to forget that.

Thanks for reminding me.

Bullshit

2008-10-13T22:18:00.000-07:00

I'm really frustrated with some of the people that I grew up with.

I've always thought that I was the weakest among us. Was I wrong?

Or was I the only one to leave high school with a vision that extended beyond myself? Can you not see that our society has reached its tipping point?

I realized that this moment was bigger than my insecurities; why didn't you?

Why couldn't I be the leader for you that you were for me? Should I have asked more of you?

Should I have challenged you?

The kitchen sink

2008-10-12T19:36:00.000-07:00

is headed our way.

Be ready, young warriors of truth!

An Organizer

2008-10-10T20:07:00.001-07:00

Finally, today, I felt like an organizer.

Jenny, a math teacher at Elm Creative Arts school, wrangled together a team that can succeed, and I couldn't be more excited.

Thank god for Miles.

Jenny McKillen came into 170 S Second street once, about a month ago. That office was a jungle, filled with cables like pythons, always at your neck ready to strangle you. At the time, my organization needed help. It was lacking leaders, people that would be able to bring this diverse and divided community together. Nicole Derse, the state field director, calls these leaders Obama Team Members. I do to.

Jenny walked into the office wondering if we still needed volunteers. She found out quickly that we needed much more than that. Our first conversation was about what it meant to be an Obama Team Member--one responsible for organizing their community, accountable for meeting metrics set by the campaign, and trained to do it. It meant at least 10 hours a week.

"You know, Tyler," she said, "I've been thinking about getting involved like this, but I've felt like I needed a little push." Then she paused. It was a pregnant pause--I could see that her body was tight, her mouth clenched, and in her eyes I could see that if I said the just the right thing, with inspiration and purpose, she would be hooked. Instead I said nothing, but smiled, and met her gaze.

Jenny made her own decision, relying on her own purpose.

Tonight she held her first meeting, bringing in two more team members: Lisa (her daughter) and Lisa (her colleague). Miles prepared for the meeting. The team, Team One, got their metrics: 990 doors knocked this week, 500 dials. Plus, they needed 189 canvass shifts filled for Election day, 100 more for the entire Get Out the Vote weekend, and they needed to recruit 4 more leaders to manage those canvassers.

That's a helluva tall order for 25 days, but no one backed out. Instead, Jenny, Lisa, and Lisa quickly started indentifying other friends, relatives, co-workers who could come. They figured out how many canvasses they would need to have to make 990 knocks.

They pooled their resources, their energy, and their commitment.

On Monday, they will have a canvass with at least 8 people, and they're still building. They decided to have one on Thursday too, and afterwards they'd go out for some Gautemalan food. Each one of them there was going to take off work on Election Day.

In the little conference room in the back of the old Region 4 UAW building, 5 individuals shared a vision, put aside individual insecurities, and grabbed hold of the moment. All for change, for progress, and united by a simple truth. Hope.

'Organizing' is a seeing. It is about seeing the relationships around you, and not the relationships to you. It is about seeing the common purpose, and understanding its intrinsic value. Organizing is seeing harmony in the space between perspectives, instead of discord.

Organizing is about celebrating the individual within the movement.

United Auto, Aerospace, and Argiculture Implement Workers of America

2008-10-07T21:07:00.000-07:00

Today, in the middle of call time, James came in.

James was the first black man from my turf who had come into my office, but that first time he was only looking for yard signs. On that day, call time was especially slow, and so I had the opportunity to talk with him, to invite him to volunteer, and to convince him that making phone calls would be nearly as hard as he thought it would be. I didn't succeed, but I did have the chance to find out that he was stopping by after dropping off his daughter at dance class, and that her dance class was weekly.

So when he told me that he didn't have enough time to make any calls, 'cause he had to pick up his daughter in 15 minutes, I told him that if he came back next week we could hit the phones.

Well, tonight he came back. I was totally not ready. A lot happens in 7 days, but I did feel accomplished in that I was able to remember the story, and the reason.

James and I sat down to get him ready to make some volunteer list dials, emotionally-speaking very, very easy dials, but I could tell that James was resisting it.

It was the kind of resistance that comes from fear, something that rises naturally and is sincere.

He started challenging me on a number of things, distracting from the phone calls.

He asked me, "So what goes on in this office usually?" He gestures to the rest of the building, the vacant offices.

I work in the United Auto Workers building, for the all the different locals in Milwaukee County.

Thing is, there are only two locals left, and one's retirees.

28 days

2008-10-06T23:09:00.000-07:00

I'm worried. I'm so worried about what's coming down the pike. The worst side of America has yet to rear its ugly head, and it will within the next 28 days.

I had a friend who told me today story that made me want to cry.

He was confronted by some ignorant thugs in a gas station. Mike called it a "tattoo convention" inside of a gas station. One of the girls in the crowd, I guess, turns to her boyfriend and says,

"Look at that nigger wearing his Obama t-shirt."

By the end of that night, Mike ended up with his face kicked, hands cuffed, and slapped with a disorderly conduct ticket.

This is only the beginning.

The hate will reign down on us as if we were sinners. A righteous fury will attempt to damn us for our transgression. People in gas stations will see themselves as God.

But this movement, we are stronger than their God.

Stronger, because we don't need to be right.
Stronger, because we will never be put down.
Stronger, because no one is an outsider.

--

2008-10-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

Today was frustrating, but still showed some promise.

YES! Colleen just called and said that she was heading over. Score.

Talk about showing promise. Tomorrow will be better.

I woke up today with the 'rang-rang-rang-rang-rang' of my alarm, looked at my phone, and quickly calculated how much time it would actually take me to get out of my house and to the Obama Team Member training that was being held for Get Out the Vote.

It was 7:30. If I really focused, I could probably get out of the shower, clothes on, and into the car in 15 minutes. If its going to take 25 minutes to get there...

And I was passed out, taking advantage of my extra 20 minutes of sleep.

I woke up in a panic. I fell back asleep harder than anticipated (that's what usually happens) and had no idea what time it was. Fuck. I'm going to be late. This is a bad week to fuck up again.

I checked my phone again. 8:00. Fuck. Ten minutes late. I rolled out of bed, stumbled to the bathroom and hopped in the shower.

I lowered my shoulder and plowed through the shower and the dressing, hopped in my dirty, disgusting, smelly, awful car.

Was totally grossed out by it. Again.

For starters

2008-10-02T22:34:00.000-07:00

The reason why I'm writing today? Why I now have a blog?

I feel like I need to explain the heart of this blog, but it won't happen today.

Today, I have a bigger fish to fry, so to speak.

What's to keep me moving forward? Why do I wake up tomorrow, wide eyed and ready to spring into a full day's work? Why will I take stretch every minute, turn every encounter into something positive and meaningful?

Why will I spend another day fighting?

Well, for starters, because you know that it's right. Because you understand that Barack Obama can guide this country, and bring it to knew heights.

Because you know that Barack can bring this community together. Bring Milwaukee together.

I fight for Kerry Williams, I fight for Neil McKeown. I fight to balance the injustices of our time.

I fight to end poverty, greed, and arrogance.

I fight for Rory Linnane, and for Colleen Monahan.

I fight for our freedoms, for our commitment to truth.

I fight for Patrick Taylor and Alex Kondrad.

I fight so that each one of us can live like Nik Nadolski.

I will own my creed, to return my gifts back onto the world.

And that is why I will not lose focus. Every moment wasted is opportunity squandered. These are not times to squander opportunity.

I will fight for the UAW, for the Delphi workers, and the South Milwaukee firefighters. I will fight for those made incapable of fighting for themselves.

I will fight because I know the power of organizing, and because the price of failure is too great.

I will fight for Barack, but only because that means fighting for us.