Two steps forward, one step back....

There are two cliches that I find literally intolerable. They are the worst phrases in the language, and those who know me well usually refrain from uttering them around me, knowing it will set off a diatribe of angry verbiage sure to last longer than whatever prompted the foolish pronouncement in the first place.

When someone is silly enough to express them in my presence, I usually have to fight an internal war of words carried on in my head and my soul, and in which there are no winners. They are careless phrases, generally tossed out when at a loss for something more substantial to explain the unexplainable. They are meant to be uplifting, I guess, but instead, they make me mad.

So, in reverse order, here are my top two.

The second worst phrase in the English language is, "It could be worse."

Could it, now? And does it make you feel better to hear that when you have just been run down by the Mack truck of life? Because when you say that to me, what I'm hearing is, "Whatever you are complaining about, hurt by, frustrated over, doesn't really matter to anyone but you, and thus, it doesn't really matter at all."

I will take an example from my own life experience to illustrate what I mean. A few days after my husband walked out on me (and the kids, and believe me, it is a group project,) I got a flat tire on my car. In the rain. My hungry daughter, who needed her dinner, was with me, and she was getting later and later to dance. I couldn't find my AAA card, without which, you cannot call and get the help that you need. (And for which, I might add, you have already paid a handsome price, as well.) It was getting late, it was cold, and we were stranded. This, in short, was A Big Problem.

Now it could, of course, have been worse. As people are so fond of pointing out in these kinds of situations, I could have had cancer (my mom got it two months later.) I could have lost my job (not only check, but checkmate, with the IRS audit, still ongoing, that followed.) I could have been homeless (not yet, but give me a few months.) Well, yes, I see what you mean. I do feel so much better now.

Even if all of those things hadn't happened, it would not have made the fact that I had a flat tire in the rain, no money, and a hungry child who was late to dance, any better. That's what is wrong with that statement, in fact. The idea that someone else may have it worse doesn't diminish the current miserable state of affairs in which you find yourself. Pointing out that there are people in even more desperate straights simply makes me rage against fate even harder. A class action of ill will in the universe is more unfair yet.

The truth is, when it's your life, misery generally does not love company. On the contrary, when I am whining and complaining, what I mostly want from the unfortunate person being forced to listen to me rant and rave is the acknowledgement that sometimes, life just sucks.

Naturally, if you want that type of response, you must select your target audience carefully, and be sure to complain to someone who understands and acknowledges that reality. For me, that person is often my cousin, who understands my propensity for having things go awry. Having been divorced herself, and having the same talent for random bad luck happenstance that I have, she wisely never tempts fate by pointing out that it could be worse, a fact that I appreciate on a regular basis when speaking to her.

What we have learned, she and I, is that life is filled with irony. Whenever you make the pronouncement, "It could be worse," the one thing that is almost guaranteed to happen is that it will get worse, just to oblige. And heaven knows, when you have my knack for falling off the horse and breaking the carousel of life, you do not tempt fate any further than you have to.

That little bit of nonsense, however, pales in comparison to my least favorite phrase of all time. Special scorn is reserved for the irritating proverb, "God won't give you more than you can handle." Okay, if that was true, we could eliminate Prozac and psychiatrists, for starters, and I would have saved a lot of money over the years. God allowed Job to suffer, and he was a lot more faithful than me, so there is no reason to think that I am going to fare any better.

One of my favorite pieces of literature is a poem entitled, "The Plan of the Master Weaver." The author is unknown, but surely it is someone who has struggled in life, and found themselves questioning why some people have all the luck, while others would have none at all, if it weren't for the bad luck that seems to visit them on a regular basis. The poem talks about how we on earth only see the unfinished underside of the tapestry of life, while God sees the upper side, so he sees the whole, clear picture. On my side, I have strings, broken threads, colors all mish mash and confused. Sometimes, you can make out the pattern, but more often, it's just a vague outline, or more likely, just a mess.

One of the reasons I love that poem so much is that it doesn't assume we should understand the reason for anything. When everything is in shambles, and you can't see the sense in anything, it doesn't mean you are the problem. It allows for the idea that sometimes everything can go wrong, but life can still turn out all right.

I have always said, "Life's not fair, and then you die." My mother hates it when I say that, but that was the reality I learned when my dad died when I was 12 years old. Life is not fair. That's it. There is no explanation, no deeper meaning. No platitude about my father being in a better place made the slightest bit of sense to me, because it was obvious to me that I was not better off without him, and that was what really mattered. Sometimes life makes no sense at all, and it is futile to try to make reasonable what is not.

So don't kid yourself, God will allow you to be completely overwhelmed by your life. The troubles will pile on, and the grief will not seem unbearable, but be unbearable. There will be times that you will hurt so bad you can't breathe. I have learned over the course of my life that there are moments when you simply cannot be strong, cannot be brave, cannot handle or accept or tolerate the situation in which you find yourself.

What then, do we say to the unfortunate, the overwhelmed, the person who is getting shafted by the vagaries of fate, for no reason other than that they exist? How do we explain the tsunami victims, or the young mother killed by a drunk driver who walks away unscathed? Is there any answer that will help inspire the person for whom God has already allowed too much, and they can't handle any more?

For me, that is where the true friend comes in. My friends of the heart don't ask me to be strong or fair or even happy most of the time. My true friends rage with me, and agree that life is unfair. When I take two steps forward and one step back, my real friends care as much about the step backwards as the steps forward, and they aren't afraid to notice that the pace is somewhat uneven.

Most importantly, those people in my life who genuinely care about me don't try to minimize what is wrong in my life by pointing out that someone else has it even worse. And in acknowledging what is wrong for me, they also allow me to find for myself what is right, what is good, where I have been blessed, where serendipity has entered the picture.

Last week was a long one around here. I found myself, once again, treading water and gasping for air, wishing for a vacation from my life, just for a little while. I spent some moments raging against the vagaries of fate. Even my very own mother, who is normally the eternal optimist, was forced, at one point, to admit that I do have the most ridiculous things happen to me. While it could, undoubtedly, be worse, it was bad enough for me.

And yet, in the midst of my complaints, the realization of what is right slowly worked its way into my consciousness, and I felt somewhat better. There is an old saying, where there is life, there is hope. I think, of all the things that are amazing about the human spirit, it may be that quality which is most precious. Sometimes, out of the worst of times comes the best of ourselves. The enduring hope that tomorrow will be a better day is not just in the movies.

One of the things I would wish to do in life is to use my own tribulations to help other people cope with theirs. When you are experiencing hard times, it is more meaningful to hear from someone who has been through it, that you will not only survive, but be okay. If writing is my talent, then perhaps in writing about my own hard times, I can inspire someone else in theirs.

Life is hard, and then you do die, it is true. So you don't need to minimize what is wrong about your life, or anyone else's. But at the same time, you should also encourage and allow the realization to grow that in the middle, sometimes you are blessed to see the vague outline of the tapestry that is your life, and if you look really hard, you will find some random threads of unexpected beauty. It still won't make sense, it still won't be fair, but you may find, like the poem says, that it is the black threads that are the foundation of life, and the silver and gold are just the accents. And perhaps that is the way it is supposed to be.

The Plan of the Master Weaver

Our lives are but fine weavings
That God and we prepare,
Each life becomes a fabric planned
And fashioned in His care.

We may not always see just how
The weavings intertwine,
But we must trust the Master's hand
And follow His design,
For He can view the pattern
Upon the upper side,
While we must look from underneath
And trust in Him to guide...

Sometimes a strand of sorrow
Is added to His plan,
And though it's difficult for us,
We still must understand
That it's He who fills the shuttle,
It's He who knows what's best,
So we must weave in patience
And leave to Him the rest...

Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why ---
The dark threads are as needed
In the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

---Author Unknown

All the news that is fit to print.....

It is interesting what will set off a firestorm of letters to the editor in our local newspaper.

Let's take stock of our situation for a moment. We are experiencing the worst recession since the Great Depression. The government is bleeding a river of money to irresponsible companies that failed to plan past next week in the rush to capture excess profits today. Our infrastructure is in need of deep repair. We are losing jobs by the hundreds of thousands, the stock market is crashing, and people are losing their homes. There is a lot to be justifiably angry or upset or worried about.

But here in Kansas City, everything is apparently still up to date, judging by the concerns being voiced most vociferously in the Unfettered Letters section of the online version of our local paper. Not for us the weighty matters that are dragging down the rest of the country. No indeed.

Instead, the things that worry us the most, judging by the number of letters and responses generated, are bad drivers and where the mayor's wife spends her time. The only thing that would generate more talking points would be the relocation of the daily crossword puzzle, a mistake I hope never to see again in my lifetime. [There are people on staff at the Star still in therapy over that debacle.]

Isn't it interesting how it is often the matters of the mundane that drive people over the edge? I find it curious that people can take losing half their 401(k) in stride, then melt down over someone cutting them off in traffic, delaying their forward progress by a full quarter of a second. We can watch natural disasters and war and insurrections on the evening news and then have dinner as if it had nothing to do with us. But let the mayor's wife set up shop in city hall, and all functioning will cease until she is dealt with.

Missouri has something called the Sunshine Law, which actually pertains to open government, especially with regard to meetings and document availability to the public. I would, however, forgive anyone for thinking that it refers to the sunshine which usually melts the as yet uncleared snow from the city streets days after it has fallen, because that is the sunshine that gets the most media attention around here. [And let me just share with you, it will be days of angry commentary before the furor fades after each snowfall.]

Why is it, I wonder, that the large catastrophes can be dealt with calmly, with equanimity, but the small things send us into orbit? What is it about human nature that allows us to handle the disaster, but not the irritant?

Speaking for myself, I cannot explain it, but I know it is absolutely true. I can handle any number of major catastrophes, but give me a series of small events, nothing moments when taken by themselves, but put them together in a bunch, and I will go straight off the cliff. Call the men in their little white coats, because you might as well just take me away now.

I have observed people with a paper cut whining as if they had cut off their arm, while a person battling cancer will insist there is no problem. Kill a column in the comic strip section, and you will deal with letters for months. Record the highest murder rate in years in KC, and we yawn and seem to think that is just business as usual.

I think it is sort of like a mosquito buzzing around your head. It's a small bug, barely big enough to notice, but the amount of irritation it generates is unbounded. We have whole industries devoted to its eradication. While mosquitoes aren't the worst scourge to smote the earth, they are certainly annoying enough to keep you indoors at dusk, and feeling crabby about it. It doesn't change the world, but it changes your world, which is, of course, the whole point.

Ironically, this tendency to overreact, while firmly reserved for our own use, is something that most people find nearly intolerable in others. Phrases such as, "Get a grip," "Making a mountain out of a molehill," or "Chill out," are little more than alternate ways to say, "You are over-reacting, and it's annoying me." They are dismissive phrases, a way of letting the other person know that not only is that issue not important to the listener, it's not important, period.

No where is this strange tendency of people to come unglued over the most trivial of issues exemplified more clearly than in the retail world. My son, Mr. Customer Service himself, used to work at Krispy Kreme. He loved the job, enjoyed his co-workers, and had a good time most nights while he was there. It was a great part time opportunity for him in high school to learn work ethic, as well as hone some people skills.

He would, however, periodically come home completely flummoxed over the vagaries of people's whims and personalities. Among other issues, he once had his very life threatened, because the glaze on the original doughnut he was serving was not evenly spread. On another notable occasion, he had a tray of drinks thrown back in his face by a woman angry that her box of doughnuts didn't get to her fast enough. You may think these are isolated incidents, but I can assure you, they weren't. He had dozens of similar tales from the years he worked there, each one more idiotic than the next.

He now works part time while going to college in the Little Town on the Prairie with the Big Inferiority Complex. He makes sub sandwiches, and he works the bar rush over the two weekend nights. As the economy has gone downhill, he has reported that the level of civility has fallen along with it, until, in recent weeks, they are forced to call the police on a nightly, if not several times a night, basis. He has recently had a chair thrown at him which hit him in the back. He has had people threaten him with a knife, throw things at him, and be verbally abusive to him.

These people are not angry because their lives are in disarray, except tangentially, perhaps. These are people who snap because the meat wasn't arranged on their sandwich they way they like it. What are we to make of that?

It is a wonder that some of these banks and other Wall Street firms haven't seen violent episodes played out in their lobbies over the last few months. Certainly, there is some evidence that the concern exists, at any rate. I have gone into a number of business places recently and found I had to sign in and get a visitor's pass, then be escorted to the office where I was going. Fear of others is permeating our entire culture - we connect virtually, but not in person.

And yet, it seems, all this security is largely unnecessary. Most people accept the loss of their retirement with calm resignation. It's the Starbucks barista making their caffeinated beverage incorrectly that forces us to peel them off the ceiling.

There has been a recent spate of letters to the editor regarding the inability of the average Kansas City area driver to locate their signal lights when turning or changing lanes. A fair amount of speculation has been generated regarding the intention of these drivers, along with some humorous commentary online about mind reading.

Another hot button issue seems to surround the ideal distance between cars at a stop light, with anecdotal evidence being produced as to the efficacy of each position. There are dozens of letters, all deadly serious, debating the relative merits of four way stops, police patrols, and the prevailing speed on the freeway. Each response generates a flurry of further commentary, each writer providing evidence as to why their particular point of view is more correct than any other.

Waiting for our leadership in Washington to solve the problem of peace in the Middle East, or the economic disaster we are currently experiencing, or even the natural disasters that await us, merits barely a comment. But bring up the mayor's wife, and it will generate days of hot debate. [I realize there is never going to be peace in the Middle East, but you get my point.]

The human psyche is an interesting thing. It allows us to overlook the log in our own eye, in favor of carping about the splinter in someone else's, all the while, never acknowledging that it may be us that is blind.

The Dress

Okay, just had to add one more thought on the day. Among the things I expect from the next four years is a parade of interesting outfits from our new First Lady.

I think Michelle is a snappy dresser on a good day, and with her lovely figure and beautiful smile, she can carry off outfits most people couldn't dream of getting away with. For the first time, perhaps since Jackie Kennedy, we have a First Lady who has her own sense of style, and who isn't afraid to be herself. When she has a hit, she is spectacular, and I look forward to seeing what she comes up with.

But seriously. When she misses? Wow.

Today, for the swearing in, she hit a home run, in my book. She looked amazing in that outfit - absolutely stunning.

It almost erased the vision of her on election night. [Let's just not even go there. I'm still having nightmares.]

Tonight, well, hm. Back in the desert, are we? I mean, if you know you are going to be dancing, should you really consider a floor length gown with a train that you will then have to manhandle every thirty seconds?

I think the next four years will be a boon for young American designers. I think we are about to see a whole different world of fashion, led by a First Lady who obviously loves bold colors and exciting patterns and contemporary styles. Whether it's good or bad on any given day, it certainly is going to be interesting.

American Dream....

As I sit and watch the coverage of the inaugural this morning, I am fascinated and amazed and genuinely proud to be an American citizen, as I have been on every inauguration day, whether the man being sworn in was my choice or not. Each time a new administration has been installed, I have been struck at what an amazing process the transition of power is in our country. This time around, there are millions of people on the National Mall, with more people still pouring in. And yet, there is no violence, no fighting, no bitterness amongst the crowd.

The enthusiasm that seems to be emanating from the crowd almost makes the man at the center of it all irrelevant. This is the greatest thing about our democracy, I've always thought. No matter who has won and who has lost, on this day, all Americans watch our government change hands peacefully, and we are allowed to see the outgoing President and the incoming President meet and embrace the future together. That is the message that America sends to our detractors, and the thing that makes us strong. However divided our house may be in private, we can come together for the good of this nation and its people.

I hope that the excitement and enthusiasm of this day will help buoy us up in the months and years to come, when the newness of change has worn away, and the sameness of our problems continue to press down upon us. I hope that in the dark days that are surely to come, the hope of this day will continue to uplift a nation already weary.

The most thought provoking comment I have read about the inauguration of the first president of African-American heritage was the observation that white America may not be as racist as black Americans have always believed. As black Americans see and hear the support of people of all races and backgrounds for a man they thought was theirs alone, I hope it opens the eyes and the hearts and the minds of people on all sides to the possibility that we can get beyond race and color in this nation.

For me, Barack Obama's family is a microcosm of the America I know. His white mother, his black father, his half Asian sister - all are part of the America I love. I hope that his ability to transcend the racial divide will help this nation do the same. His upbringing as a black man in a white family has given him insight that few in positions of power have ever had. I wonder if that is part of his apparent ability and desire to see issues from more than one perspective? Certainly part of the hope I feel this day is that we will be led by someone who isn't afraid to consider that there is another point of view, another solution, an alternative not yet considered.

I give President Bush a great deal of credit for the smooth transition, and his gracious and almost unprecedented cooperation with the incoming administration. I don't think anyone should underestimate the importance of that willingness to open the lines of communication with the man who will supplant him in the Oval Office.

Because of his generosity, Barack Obama's team will be able to go from the swearing in and address to follow straight to the White House to begin their work. There is no hole, no weakness, no confusion on display for the enemies of this nation to exploit. I think that may be George Bush's greatest act as President, and the one that keeps us safest. If he had not been so generous, we would have a government in temporary disarray, and that is something I don't think any of us should want to contemplate.

George Bush will be remembered for many things. But the legacy that is most important to him, I suspect, is the one to which he has dedicated his presidency - the safety of this nation, and its people. For me, the way he has best exemplified this desire is his gracious leave-taking of his post. I have never doubted that he loves this country, and did his best to keep us safe. As he steps off the world stage and into his private life, I wish he and Laura a long and happy post-Presidential life.

I hope that this new day will be the first of many good days to come for this nation and for its people. For all our sakes, I wish that the presidency of Barack Obama will have unprecedented success, because anything else will be disastrous for us all. It is a rare thing to know that you are watching history being made. Today Barack Obama steps into the pages of history, and brings us with him.

On dreams

The opinion I am about to express will enrage many on all sides. I respect your right to disagree with my conclusions, but also ask that you make sure you have really considered why, and that your own disagreement is rooted in facts and solutions. If it is, I welcome the open and honest debate, because that is the only way we will ever change the things that most need changing.

In a little over 24 hours, this nation will have a new leader in charge. When Barack Obama takes the oath of office to become our 44th president, history will be made. It is impossible for me, on the day dedicated to celebrating the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., to ignore the symbolism and ironies involved in the inauguration to come tomorrow. As I sit here thinking about it all this morning, I really do have to wonder, did King really believe in his own dream that he sold to his followers, and in time, most of this nation?

Barack Obama will make his vow to protect and defend this nation on the steps of a building that was built by slaves. He and his family will take up residence in the White House, where just a few years ago the only black residents were servants of a master they could never have imagined would share the color of their skin. When King inspired his audience with his dream about seeing the mountaintop, I find it hard to imagine that he truly thought it would happen so soon, and that so many white people, especially our youth, would be there to help make it happen.

The legacy of King, a man imperfect as all humans are, has on occasion been sullied by his human foibles and failings. Everything from infidelity to plagiarism have been bandied about, and his own children are now in court fighting each other over the record that their parents have left behind. But in the final analysis, his contribution can not be tarnished, because without his dream, and his actions that backed it up, tomorrow would not have arrived so soon. And speaking as the parent of two children of mixed races, I am happy to know that they are now seeing a man much like themselves achieve what would have been unthinkable just a few short years ago, and their dreams will not be limited by something that is only skin deep.

So I have to ask myself - how are we honoring the legacy of a man who espoused hard work, education, and dedication to a cause, a cause for which he was willing, and ultimately did, give his life, by taking the day off to sleep late, eat out, watch bad television or go to the mall? Instead of having our children in school learning about the civil rights movement led by King, they are out of school, doing little of value, and not thinking about what this day means at all.

There are a few celebrations, of course, scattered around town. The talking heads on the local and national news are mentioning it, especially in light of the inauguration tomorrow. The symbolism is inescapable, and I think most Americans, from the whole rainbow of ethnic backgrounds, feel a certain amount of satisfaction, if not pride, in the fact that being half African-American was not an impediment to the election of Barack Obama. Some would say the very fact that a mixed race man from Hawaii, born to a white woman from Kansas and a black man from Kenya, raised largely by white grandparents, and married to an African-American woman, is evidence that the dream has been accomplished, and there is nothing more to do.

I would disagree. In fact, I will step gingerly out onto a very delicate limb, to state what I think is inescapably obvious, if unpopular and politically incorrect to mention. One of the biggest challenges we face in this country today is the failure of the African-American community, and by extension, all of us, to raise successful men. When there are more young black men in jail than in college, we cannot escape the recognition that a failure of epic proportions is in progress. While some in the African-American community are satisfied to blame the past, or racism, and too many in the white community are quick to lay the blame in stereotypical form, I think the reasons are irrelevant.

No matter what the cause, the crisis is in the present, and the future is dependent on solutions that must be put into place right now. I believe the primary failure is systemic, and it is the African-American community that must save itself now. Whatever the cause, whatever the background, whatever history has or has not done, the time is too short and the need too urgent, to waste time worrying about whose fault it is, or what has or hasn't been done to fix it. They cannot look to anyone else to provide the solutions, because too few who need the help will listen to anyone, much less someone outside their own community. The isolation that seems to be felt by the most disenfranchised is the very thing that keeps them from recognizing or embracing the experience that has lifted others out of poverty, and put them on the path to success.

The past is dismissed as out of touch and out of date, but too few examples in the present seem to resonate with them to show the way, either. When Bill Cosby talks about responsibility, they excoriate him for speaking his mind. For every Oprah Winfrey that speaks of the road to success, they embrace another artist who espouses violence as the solution to their conflicts. When they feel nothing but hopelessness, and jail seems inevitable, there is no incentive to try for something more.

They lack role models who believe that to achieve, you must stay in school, put your nose to the grindstone and get an education. Too few people are telling them that without that education, they will be limited in the opportunities to get a good job. Without the financial stability of secure employment, there is no incentive to be responsible for your family, and give back to those less fortunate than yourself. The cycle of poverty is not just laziness, as the cynical would have us believe. It is an epidemic of failure, systemwide, but whose eradication must begin in the home, and extend throughout the community.

There is no quick fix to poverty - it is a way of life, no matter what your color or ethnic background. For the African-American community, unless they embrace solutions, and soon, they will find that they have exchanged the shackles of slavery for the shackles of the penitentiary, and it is a dead end street.

There is an irony that was well demonstrated by the show, "The Jeffersons," which I watched when I was young. [Note to Hollywood - it's not only the African-American community that watches the so called African-American shows. Fresh Prince of Bel Air has a following of kids of every hue, and Will Smith is an actor that appeals to people in every economic and racial class. I was a rural farm kid in Minnesota, and still managed to open my mind to The Jeffersons. Kids want to experience different things, and they don't really care what color of skin they are watching.]

The whole premise of The Jeffersons revolved around the move of the Jeffersons from the working class neighborhood of Archie Bunker to the high end penthouse world inhabited by the wealthy and successful. This comedy show was a parody of the wealthy, in many ways, and came complete with the newly successful black family hiring a black maid. I think that was a more revealing statement than was probably intended - the single most important symbol of their success seemed to be the black maid they could afford to hire, who ultimately bossed them around.

In the real world, money brings privilege, and the first privilege it usually brings is a move to a better neighborhood. The problem comes when there is no backward glance, no support of those still there, no leadership on how to make that leap. If you have been successful, you must go back and help others, you must show the roadmap for success, you must push and prod and manhandle, if necessary, in order to bring more people with you.

Barack Obama was never a part of the ghetto culture in America. Although he has lived a variety of experiences, he has less in common with an African-American in the slums of Chicago than he does with suburban parents in most major cities. But Obama made a choice a long time ago to take his education and his knowledge and his experiences, and spend some time in the darkness, live the life, walk the walk, and try to make a difference in the community where hope is fragile and education is scorned. That he has gone beyond that life, and is now experiencing the mountaintop, should be embraced and lauded, not only for his personal achievement, but for the role model he is providing.

While some have criticized him for not enrolling his children in the DC public schools, I would have been disappointed in him if he had. He values education, and if he doesn't value success for his own children, then how can I imagine he will value it for mine? His children have a rare example in their own home - a two parent family that, from all appearances, are loving and caring and supportive of each other. He has criticized the culture of hate and violence and irresponsibility that pervades the inner city, and he has called each American to begin with themselves to make the changes needed to make this country a better place for everyone.

As we stand on the threshold of history, it is fitting that the day before the inauguration would be a day dedicated to the celebration of The Dream. I hope and pray that Barack Obama will provide a new voice and new leadership, not only in the African-American community, to be sure, but especially there. I hope his example of education, service, hard work, and a little bit of luck, is one which will show all of our nation's children the path to a better land, one with the promise of a future, and the fulfillment of the dreams of every one of us for our future generations.

If he succeeds in that, he will be able to look back at his place in history and know he has made a contribution worth honoring. Martin Luther King, Jr. would expect nothing more, and the people of this nation deserve nothing less. Barack Obama is the exemplar of the American dream come to life - in his death, King was the martyr that made it possible.

No matter which side of the political spectrum you fall into, celebrate today the living dream of our founding fathers - a country where any child, no matter what their circumstances, can dare to dream, and have it come true.