Welcome to "Only Mark"
A blog for my random tales that truly seem to only happen to me. Enjoy!

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Birthday Fun!

Well, this has already been a fun week. I definitely have to put a post up about how I spent Tuesday evening and Wednesday. It was AMAZING!! (I'll give you a hint...I was doing this!)

My actual birthday was Thursday, and I really didn
't do anything exciting then. To be honest, I was kinda in a grumpy mood for some reason, but oh well...I'm over that now. The real celebration will be happening today however.

In a few hours, I'll be heading out to the Carolina Cup. Conveniently, this event falls on my birthday week pretty much every year, so it is quickly becoming a tradition that my birthday is celebrated at it. Now, for those of you not in the South or familiar with horse races, you're probably thinking....
"Seriously Mark, that's how you're celebrating your 25th birthday? What?!"
To which I would reply that it really has little to do wit
h the horses. To be quite honest, most people never even see the horses. The only time I ever see them is when I want to cross the track to get into the infield and wander through the rich people's tailgates, at which point you have to wait for the horses to finish their race before they let you cross. They actually kinda get in the way more than anything.
No, no, no! The Carolina Cup has about as much to do with horse racing as The Real World does with...well...the real world (seriously...does anyone still even watch that? I think I gave up after New Orleans...geez, I'm soo old!). The Cup is THE premier event marking the threshold of the spring social season here in South Carolina. Some of the elite socialites get all dressed up to go tailgate all day long. About 75,000 people descend upon the small town of Camden, SC, to sit in traffic, drink heavily, socialize, see and be seen. I guess it's kinda like the Southern version of Fashion Week?
"What's the appropriate attire to stand in a field drinking all day?" you ask?
Well, men should wear slacks (seersucker or other lightweight pants preferred), oxford shirts and bow ties (yes...I said BOW ties). Need help tying one? Try this. And ladies should find a nice little sun dress and matching big floppy hat. Proper attire dictates that men should wear bucks or other loafers and women should be in heels or sandals, however unless you're among the truly elite, a pair of Rainbows will suffice.
"What does one have at their tailgate for the Cup?" I hear you asking.
Well, alcohol is a necessity. Cold beers are always on hand (although, I personally hate beer, so refuse to drink it), but tradition dictates that mint juleps are the official cocktail. My tailgate this year will feature beer (my guests' insistence), sangria, and frozen daiquiris, among other things. A good spread of food, should also be on hand. I've seen people before with elaborate centerpieces for their tailgates (flower arrangements that had to cost $100+) and even saw a group one year who reserved an extra parking space just for the caterers they brought with them. They had the silver serving dishes set out and everything! While college students often arrive in buses, once you get a bit older, many people charter limos to take them there so they don't have to worry about having a DD. Yeah...you've not been to the South until you see wealthy white people in funny outfits tailgating in a field out of the trunk of a limo. :)

I'm pretty excited this year. I got a new pair of seersucker pants (I've never worn seersucker before) and even ordered a new bow tie for the occasion!! Several of my friends have come into town to join me, so we're going to have about 15 or 20 people tailgating with us!! Woo Hoo!! We have to leave my house at about 8am this morning to get a good parking spot (all the reserved spots sold out a month or two ago). We're hoping to get one near "College Park," which is where all the fraternities from across SC and even parts of NC and GA set up camp. They bring their huge tailgating tents, have kegs everywhere, and some even get live bands to come play. The weather this year is supposed to be a little bit cool for the sun dresses and all, and may even bring a bit a rain later in the day, but we should have a great time anyway!

Come on...you know you're jealous that YOU don't get to wear a bow tie!!

PS - One of my favorite Southern quotes came from a friend getting ready for Cup a few years ago. When she found out that you couldn't carry your beer bottles around with you she immediately and sincerely stated
"Well, I'm going to have to find a green cup then."
"Why does it have to be green?"
"Because my dress is green and I will NOT be seen walking around with a cup that doesn't match my dress!"
Haha...gotta love the South! We have our standards!

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Old man!

Well, it's finally happened. I'm now closer to 30 than I am 20. I turn 25 today. Nothing particularly exciting is going on today. I may find myself a bottle of wine and drink a toast to myself later tonight, but otherwise, nothing big.

I did have a big fun day yesterday which I'll try to remember to share with you via blog post later tonight, but the real party is scheduled for Saturday. I'll have to post about that tonight too. I'm too tired to do it now, so I'll just have to leave you waiting with breath that is bated.

Yay for me!

Saturday, March 22, 2008

It's 12:34 AM...

and right now I am:
  • Watching my DVR.
  • Eating junk food.
  • Contemplating going to bed.
  • Contemplating rearranging furniture in my bedroom.
  • Digesting a big steak I had for dinner 3 hours ago.
  • Enjoying wearing spring preppy clothes.
  • Dreading my next run, which will begin in less than 7 hours.
  • Chatting online.
  • Blogging.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

In the news...seriously!

I was looking for a particular story this morning on FoxNews.com and actually saw these two headlines. Both are horrible stories, but strange, and almost comical headlines...

"Man Gunned Down in Driveway by Killer Robot"

"Woman Goes for Leg Surgery, Gets New Anus Instead"

Definitely not what I expected to read in the news this morning. Haha!

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Change we need...Change we can believe in!

There's not much I can say about this, but fortunately not much I need to say. It's the transcript from Barack Obama's speech responding to statements made by his former pastor. It's a lengthy one, but well worth the time you spend reading it. I gotta admit, at several points while reading it, I was getting a bit choked up...and Mark don't cry! Republican or Democrat, Obama or Clinton -- you can't deny that this is one moving speech! The commentators on BBC World News America said it is one of the best and most poignant speeches on race and civil rights since MLK, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech and among the most significant political speeches in recent history. WOW!!!

PS -- if you want the full effect without watching the video, you should read it out loud instead of silently. Good speeches are best when orated.

Read it!
(If you'd rather watch the 37 minute video, I embedded it at the end of the post or click here.)

The following is a transcript of Sen. Barack Obama's speech, as provided by Obama's campaign.

We the people, in order to form a more perfect union.

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy.

Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least 20 more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution -- a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States.

What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part -- through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk -- to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign -- to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America.

I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together -- unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction -- towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas.

I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners -- an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters.

I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts -- that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity.

Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African-Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough."

We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action, that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap.

On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation -- that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Rev. Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain.

Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely -- just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice.

Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country -- a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America, a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Rev. Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems -- two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Rev. Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church?

And I confess that if all that I knew of Rev. Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and YouTube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than 20 years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor.

He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine, who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth -- by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, "Dreams From My Father," I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note -- hope! -- I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones.

"Those stories -- of survival, and freedom, and hope -- became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world.

"Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish -- and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety -- the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger.

Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear.

The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Rev. Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children.

Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions -- the good and the bad -- of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother -- a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork.

We can dismiss Rev. Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Rev. Wright made in his offending sermons about America -- to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through -- a part of our union that we have yet to perfect.

And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country.

But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination -- where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments -- meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations.

That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families -- a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened.

And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods -- parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement -- all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Rev. Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted.

What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it -- those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination.

That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations -- those young men and, increasingly, young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways.

For the men and women of Rev. Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years.

That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Rev. Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning.

That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change.

But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race.

Their experience is the immigrant experience -- as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor.

They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense.

So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African-American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation.

Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle-class squeeze -- a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many.

And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns -- this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naive as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy -- particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction -- a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people -- that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life.

But it also means binding our particular grievances -- for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs -- to the larger aspirations of all Americans, the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family.

And it means taking full responsibility for own lives -- by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American -- and yes, conservative -- notion of self-help found frequent expression in Rev. Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Rev. Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country -- a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black, Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past.

But what we know -- what we have seen -- is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope -- the audacity to hope -- for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination -- and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past -- are real and must be addressed.

Not just with words, but with deeds -- by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations.

It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand -- that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle -- as we did in the O.J. trial -- or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina -- or as fodder for the nightly news.

We can play Rev. Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words.

We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children.

This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st Century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the emergency room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care, who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life.

This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag.

We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for president if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected.

And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation -- the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today -- a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, 23-year-old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was 9 years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents, too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time.

And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.


Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Still here!

Sorry folks...it's been a while since I've blogged! I don't feel quite so bad about it, though, because it looks like a lot of people have put blogging on hold for a bit, though. I've not really had the time to blog too much lately...okay, well that's not entirely true. I have had a lot going on, but I think the fact of the matter is that I've been kinda lazy and haven't really taken the time to blog. Plus, I just haven't had too many really funny stories to share with you, and I think we're all getting burnt out on my impromptu restaurant critiques (FYI - I received a $25 gift certificate from Ruby Tuesday to apologize this week) and my rants about my ill-working car (I spent yesterday afternoon having it serviced again), so I thought I'd refrain.

Right now, I'm actually in Atlanta (you know...where the playas play and we ride on them things like everyday) for a training retreat of sorts for work. While I'm here and kinda bored, I guess I'll take a brief moment to catch you all up on my last couple of weeks and give you some sneak previews of coming attractions. :)

I'm still training for the 10k...although I'm liking running less and less, haha. My knees still hurt when I run, and the general consensus that my IT band is just really tight and needs to be stretched. I've been even more over zealous than normal in stretching my thighs and even laid off the running a bit this week. It still doesn't seem to be helping me much, though. A friend of mine recommended one of these to me. After having few results from the stretching, I bought one last night to give it a shot. Basically, you lay on top of it with whatever part of your body you're trying to work out rolling over it. (I didn't describe that very well, but I'm too tired to care.) It works like a deep tissue massage does basically. So far, it hurts like there is no tomorrow. Seriously...I was basically lying on my living room floor last night wincing and screaming in pain, lol. But, I just take that to mean the muscle is really tense and will greatly benefit from the stretching. Lets hope it clears up soon, or I'll never be able to make it 6.2 miles. Oh yeah, I'm supposed to run a St. Patrick's Day 5k Saturday morning as part of our training, but I don't think I'm going to, haha!

Two weeks ago I went up to Greenville to help a friend celebrate her 25th birthday. I had a lot of fun...but that weekend deserves it's own post, so I'll save that one for later this week.

A few posts ago, I mentioned that I had a lot on my mind and that I'd fill you in later. I guess now would be later. Among other things, I'm in the process of looking for a new job right now. When I first mentioned it to you all, I was conflicted and wasn't saying anything b/c I wasn't sure what I was going to do at that point. The problem is, I do like my current job, but unfortunately, I work for a small company that has been affected by outside items and there essentially isn't enough money for it to make sense to keep me on. My boss hadn't brought it up to me, but i was looking at where I was and knew the company wasn't making enough money for me to really be able to grow to where I need to be anytime soon. I'm the only real employee, besides the owners, and it doesn't make sense to run a company where pretty much everything we bring in has to go right back out to us to pay our bills. Plus, I don't have any benefits, and wouldn't be getting any anytime soon...and Mark wants to go to the dentist again, seriously! haha I wasn't sure whether I should just try to tough it out for a little bit longer (this was never actually a real option though), try to get a part time job to get some more money coming in (just a short term fix to a long term problem) or look elsewhere. I did bring it up to my boss and recommended I look for a new job, but continue to do the same work for them on a contract basis. That way, I get to stay out of the day-to-day crap that I hate and, when they actually have money and need a job done, they can call me, otherwise, we don't have to worry about it. B/c of other aspects of my job, I was going to remain connected with them anyway, but this seems to work out best. She agreed that this was the best solution and I think she had been realizing that something needed to change too, but also didn't want to say anything. I've sent out some resumes and have already had a second interview with one company. I should have a 3rd interview next week, and I'm pretty sure that, I'll accept that position, so that's good. A nice quick job hunt. I'm ready to move on.

I'm sure more has happened in the last couple of weeks, but at the moment, I can't think of what. In coming attractions, though, I'll have a post about Greenville, some super secret spy shots of a new car (well...maybe not all that secret if I was able to get them, but whatever), the unveiling of the birthday plans, and my super awesome birthday present (it's not really a present, but I'm counting it as one). There...now that I've put it out there, I guess I'll have to actually write them, right? If I don't...berate me in the comments until I do!! :)

Alright...I'm going to bed! Good night!