YOU, HAVE A **DREAM** — And, iHave a **Dream** BOOK, Dr. King ;oD

Written Reflection from January 21st, 2014 @ Age 32

RE:  WHEN THE EX-HUSBAND SOUGHT TO VERBALLY DENIGRATE **THE** FAIRY GODMOTHER’S GODSON/a.k.a. the **x** that broke Adam Crumrine’s back; or, in other words, WHY WORRY ABOUT A **LONE** WOLF—WHEN YOU CAN SET AMERICA’S WHOLEGOPPARTY A’FLAME/a.k.a. goin’ to *prison* for TREASON, Bobby McN[eigh] ;oD

Written Testimony—Submitted To:

THE OHIO SENATE/CIVIL JUSTICE COMMITTEE

IV.  LEARNING TO FLYMaking It Happen.

Well, I started out down a dirty road, started out all alone

And the sun went down as I crossed the hill,

And the town lit up, and the world got still.

I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings—

Coming down is the hardest thing.

Well the good ol’ days may not return

And the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn.

I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings—

Coming down is the hardest thing.

Well, some say life, will beat you down

Break your heart, steal your crown;

So I’ve started out, for God knows where

I guess I’ll know, when I get there.

I’m learning to fly around the clouds—

But what goes up, must come down.

I’m learning to fly, but I ain’t got wings

Coming down is the hardest thing.

I’m learning to fly around the clouds

But what goes up, must come down.

I’m learning to fly

I’m learning to fly.

LEARNING TO FLY, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Into the Great Wide Open

~

Please make no mistake—this failed-leadership epidemic in the United States is systemic in nature.  It has intoxicated our country at every fundamental level—and from there, seeped down into every intermittent crevice and crease, so as to poison the very fabric of our collective conscience.  It is this blindness, this severe lack in vision, that now threatens to exterminate in America, an entire segment of the human race.  For, our mentally-ill adult population—so presently being mistreated and bullied in our state and national legislative systems here in the U.S.A., is no different fromthe youthful segment of our mentally-ill population so presently being mistreated and bullied across the country in our educational system.  Separated only by space and time—please understand, these two segments of our population are actually, just one and the same.

Mental illness is a human condition unto which we are born.  The sociological mental and emotional abuse begins at the beginning—in our youth, when we are just children.  By the time we reach the age of majority, we have endured 18 years of stigmatic exclusion and discriminatory mistreatment, and as to our suffering, from this society, suffocatingly devastating indifference.

That is why our mentally-ill population is so angry.  We are not angry by natureto the contrary.  By nature, we are compassionate beings very sensitive to emotion—we experience emotion with an intensity and depth and acuteness, that “normal” persons will quite possibly never understand.  We are just different like that, we are more sensitive to emotion—including suffering.  So, why it would come as any surprise that we would react more acutely to others’ ongoing cruelty, is actually quite telling.

In any case, collectively—we as Americans, have been stripped of our ability to cultivate compassion for those who are different from the rest—a direct result of our nation’s failed leadership epidemic.  Through the deceitful use of meaningless prose and corresponding failure to act in manners protective of the human race—they have blinded us all with unbearable emotion, to distract us from their empty analyses—the lacking justification for their abandonment.  Their example has blinded us from the fact that, in acquiescing, we too abandon humanity in its suffering.

And so now we find ourselves, once more, in need of focus—to regain that internal compass by which we can reassess the hierarchy of our collective values.  We must focusit is necessary that we do so now—to regain moral consciousness, reinvigorate ethical action, and protect our weaker humanity from the remainder of our population.  For, that, is how we solve this mental problem.

MARISSA KRISTINA VARCHO, ESQ.

Written Testimony

Ohio Senate/Civil Justice Committee

January 21st, 2014

SCENE:  *o*Kayyyyyyy guys, so, THIS time around, we’ll dress the groom in **black** but, keep the bride in WHITE, alright?  ;oD

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 are 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 misinterpreting 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 worshippers 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, forget 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 torturous 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 graces 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.

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.

Letter from a Birmingham Jail

April 16th, 1963