A Dream 50 Years Later



This past week we had the 50th anniversary of one of the most famous speeches in American history. It wasn’t covered live on TV as it was given, but over time, it has grown to an epic statement of where we wish our country to be in terms of race relations.  It’s grown so much racial import in many peoples’ eyes, they forget he spoke of income and jobs topics about which we have yet to reach consensus.  When I think of King’s Dream speech, I am reminded of the Gallup poll at the time saying only a third of American’s supported him and his ideas.  Then I think of a quote from Andrew Bridge in Hope’s Boy,
“Some people are born for battles.  Their bravery endures, regardless of frailty or strength.  They are the ones we look to and our admiring hearts tell us, “They’ll know what to do.”  They are the great winners and losers of history.  We remember them less for their outcomes than for their glorious acts.  And, with the gentle wash of time, they become our heroes.”

Who denies MLK hero status today?

As we hit the 50 years mark since the speech, I remember this time while longer than my life, is but a blip in humanity’s quest for fairness.  Then I realize if we arrived, we would no longer care, for we would take it for granted.  It is a little ironic that if we reach the goal, we will no longer attempt to recognize and make up for past misdeeds. Doing so puts us back on uneven ground as we try to make amends.  Think of all the white men who think minority poor are better off than the white poor.  To arrive at the goal of fair equality could only happen by starting over. 

If we ever find ourselves (back) in a spot where there is no improvement to be made, I submit maintaining the status quo will require us to lose what it is to be human, to strive to make better the realities in which we live.  At least these thoughts seem to be the epitome of what it is to be American.  I suspect if we ever go back, somebody will still bite the apple in an effort to find a “better.” 
 
After all, what’s more American than apple pie?
 
(continue to next page for two random thoughts)
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 I saw a post from Montel Williams this week asking what “Living well” means.  Since I spend a lot of my life looking for the answer, I gave the closest answer I’ve come up with thus far.

Living well is learning to recognize the gifts we receive and give, followed by thinking how to best enjoy them.  

Living well is learning to love learning and then figuring out a way to pass along both the love and the knowledge.

Living well is recognizing the love we give and receive. 

Living well is valuing both. 

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A very cool thing happened recently.  I was asked by Patientslikeme. com to go downtown so I can represent the patients’ perspective on a panel at the Global Forum on Innovation in Health Professional Education.  The conference is being put together by the Institute of Medicine of the National Academies.
 
http://www.iom.edu/activities/global/innovationhealthprofeducation.aspx

I’m excited.  Looking at some of the people and their positions, I want to go just to hear what they say.  I’m fascinated.

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Depressed? Who Me? Couldn’t Be.

Isn’t it odd when how we see ourselves is confronted by an expert’s view of us?  This week, I was confronted by the official write-up from my last visit with my neurologist.  There as the last condition was a word I would never use for myself. Yet there it was, the “d” word. I thought it must be some kind of mistake till I mentioned it to my wife, and she said “Of course.  It’s not like it’s the first write-up to describe you as ‘depressed.'” 

There, I’ve written the word I’ve not allowed myself to think describes me.  She said she’s never seen anyone able to hold a grudge like I do who wasn’t depressed in some way.  When I protested I must be the happiest, luckiest depressed guy on earth, she shrugged pointing out I do take an anti-depressant to sleep at night.  I was told it is an anti-spasticity drug with some anti-depressant  uses as well.  Who cares?  It works.

As I started to defend myself and my positive attitude, I realize it is with logic like, “I have MS, but I can still run, work full time, and…my MS is so much better than Mrs. Soandso’s.”  or “I may not have X, but look at how much of what I need I do have” or “look how many people go out of their way to make my life easier at the hard points.”  I know over half of MS patients are treated for depression.  Part of me wants to scream, many of us should be depressed.  However, that’s a deliberate confusion of situational depression from brain chemistry.

When I continue down that path of logic, all I can come up with is “if I am depressed, my bulwark is a reliably (thus far) inexhaustible ability to find different perspectives in order to find a more desirable outlook.”  Maybe “depression” is always looking for the better perspective, willing to deny the reality as it first presents. 

Don’t we all do this though?  I know the old joke about “De Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt.”  It’s an old joke.  So obviously I haven’t cornered the market on this approach. 

Of course, maybe this is just one of those times where it really doesn’t matter what the truth is.  I figure as I deny, one of these two is true: 1) My first instinct is correct, and I am not depressed or 2) I am depressed but have found ways to bend my mind around situations which would otherwise make me sad.  Aren’t both of those more desirable than lethargy and tears?  The hedonist in me says, “screw harsh reality whenever there is a alternate reality close at hand.”

I think of this choice, and I’m confronted with a question.  How do I get my daughter to make similar choices as she becomes ever more beset by fear.  One moment it’s a spider in the basement.  The next it’s fly in the window.  I see in her a host of anxieties, and I strive to give her tools to befriend that which scares most thoroughly at the moment.  “The spider whose web you are now wearing is the same one who eats the flys and mosquitos you feared a moment ago.  As annoying and scary as it was for you, imagine having your home trampled by a giant.  Who got the worst of this deal?”  Some day, I will learn not to use such logic on my most empathetic of kids…For the next day she was crying over the dead fly feeling bad for it and how much she hated it the night before. 

Ok, so maybe there are limits to this perspective trick.

PS. In a world where it seems timing is only a matter of perception, I had to laugh.  As I was getting ready to go for a run today, I went to the bathroom where a coworker was complaining one of the waterless urinals was clogged.  I told him to enjoy the marvel.  After all, how many places on earth are there where gravity fails?  On a sixth floor waterless urinal, it didn’t fall.  He told me I had the oddest perspective on our terrible smelling bathroom.  I asked if he ever went to a public bathroom anywhere to enjoy the smell…and he said my perspective was odd? 

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Our Family's Stories of Growing Up

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