Rosa Parks: The Lady Who Stood for Justice

Rosa Parks
(1913-2005)

Note: Please see the question at the end.

When I think back to the stories I actually remember from my history classes while growing up, the powerful story of Rosa Parks is one that definately marks my mind.

Parks, whose body currently lies in state in the rotunda of the U.S. capitol as the first female in our nation's history to ever recieve such an honor, certainly stood for something greater than just great and set an example for all to follow.

Indeed, the actions of a lone Rosa Parks on December 1, 1955, set into play what most historians consider to be the beginning of the modern civil rights movement. That day, Parks, a relatively unknown seamstress, refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. She was arrested and charged with violating a city ordinance. However, what she had really violated was injustice.

"I was determined to achieve the total freedom that our history lessons taught us we were entitled to, no matter what the sacrifice." - Rosa Parks

Wow! Can you imagine? Can you imagine yourself doing what Rosa Parks did on that cold day in December -- standing up for the freedom(s) that our history lessons tell us we are all entitled to? It certainly takes some profound courage! Would you? Could you? -- Stand up for injustice.

Breaking Alabama law that day was defending justice. Rosa Parks was tired. Tired of injustice. Isn't it ironic to think of how much energy can arise from simply being "tired" of something? Talk about a galvanization of the soul!

This blog is my tribute to Rosa Parks, one who will always stand among the world's greats -- those whom have risked their lives and their freedom for what they felt was right and just.

In closing, I'd like to ask you this question that I heard posed on Dallas 106.1 KISS FM this morning:

Like Rosa Parks, who lies in state right now in our nation's capitol as the first woman to ever do so, and much deserved, can you think of another such heroic woman who may or might have deserved such an honor in their lifetime?

When All is Said and Done

"God is, and has always been, watching," were the words Father Romero uttered as we sent a loved one far away into the heavens last June. I remember that day quite well. It had been raining non-stop from dawn to dusk. In fact, the wind was so bad that it nearly blew the vehicles, as well as the hearse carrying the body, off the road during the funeral procession. What a perfect, dark setting for a funeral. By the way, that funeral came totally unexpected.

Indeed, it was only a month earlier that I was walking across the stage at my college graduation ceremony during what was definately one of the proudest moments of my life. The family threw a big celebration for me that weekend and I got to see, and say goodbye to, many of my dear friends. It seemed like my life was headed down the right path. It only seemed that way though.

The funeral was only the first of a series of troubling events. I must note, however, that at some point in time my memory gets a bit blurry. Of what I am able to remember, none of it is pretty.

About a week after the funeral, I arrived at my family's house in Northern Mississippi to find that it had been robbed, vandalized, and completely desecrated. "What kind of people would do such a thing?" Childhood photos of my brother, sister, and I were ripped to shreds. Family portraits were spray painted with Nazi-like symbols. Why? Why would someone do this?

In the midst of rummaging through the destruction, something caught my eye as I glanced out the back window. It was a wooden cross planted beneath the willow tree in the center of the backyard. I set out to gain a closer perspective. What I found was astonishing. There, carved nicely into the heavy wooden planks of the cross were the words: "Here Lies Sweetie. The Meanest Dog Ever." My dog (might I note dog of seventeen years) was dead. Why the hell didn't anyone bother to tell me? Oh well, that wasn't the issue of the hour. What was more important was why the hell someone had desecrated the house! I needed some answers. Oddly enough, nobody was home. Maybe they were down at the police station filing a report or, better yet, kicking some hoodlem ass (pardon my french). With this in mind, I hopped into my Caddy and roared down toward to the police station.

On the way there, an explosion lit up the sky just ahead of me on the highway. I immediately slammed on my breaks and got out of the car to see what was going on. It appeared to have been a car accident. As I got closer, though still at a distance, I could see that there were several bystanders who appeared to be selflessly rescuing one of the drivers from the firery wreck. I began walking a little closer to the scene in hopes of providing some assistance. To my horror, things were not as they seemed!

I wasn't sure if had unconciously smoked some crack or what but, those "rescuers" I had seen, the ones that were apparently helping, were not helping at all! No. To my fear and disbelief, they were eating the wreck victims piece by piece. Seeing this, I vomited all over myself. "This can't be happening! What is WRONG with me?" At that moment, one of the "rescuers" made eye contact with me and signaled the others that there was "fresh meat." I was the fresh meat. Suddenly, in what was a marathon race for my life, I was running back to the Caddy with flesh-eating beasts right on my tail!

Thankfully I made it out of there alive. When I got far enough away I dialed 911 only to get no answer. "Those darn people need to get their act together!" I wasn't sure where to go from here. What I began to call "Flesh Eater's Highway," the sole route to the police station, was a no go. I couldn't go back that way. Thus, I pulled the Caddy over and began thinking for a moment. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face walking along the sidewalk. They didn't look zombified so I decided to take a chance and get out of the car to talk to them.

"They" were an old boyfriend, Luis Polatsky, that I had dated back in my early college days. Funny, but I never quite new what had happened to him after we broke up. He was always the wild-child, screw-the-world kind of person who, eventually, I remember, got into a lot of trouble of some sort.

"Luis?" I said. He turned around with a big smile and said, "Hi! Are you making out okay?"

Was I making out okay? Of course I wasn't making out okay! The family house was desecrated. My dog died. Not to mention the fact that I had almost become the dinner of a hungry bunch of former humans.

"Yes," I said. "I'm doing good." Then, he said, "Well, you seem to be taking it pretty well."

Pretty well? I must admit, that was a long time ago that you slept with my best friend. I am totally over it. I have moved on. Wait a second! What the heck was he talking about?

"What do you mean by 'taking it pretty well'?" I inquired. "Oh," he said. "You don't know?" and I replied "Apparently not. Nobody ever tells me anything anymore!"

What he said next would open my eyes for an eternity.

"You always looked good," he said. I thought to myself, "I am not in the mood to be hit on right now!" Then he continued, "Yes, you always looked good. Even at your funeral." [Pause]

A rush of memories suddenly shot through my mind and then "God no! Noooo! This can't be happening! This isn't true." Oh, but as time would tell, it was all so very true.

I was dead. That was MY funeral. This, as Luis would later point out to me, was my own hell.

Because of how I once lived, I am now eternally damned to the fear that comes with the desecration of the things I once loved, the fear of being eaten by flesh eating zombies, and the fear of what lies ahead.

If only I would have tried harder. If only I had been better. If only.

"Not everyone who says to me 'Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." - Matthew 7: 21

by. Holly

Have a Happy Halloween!

Recent Thoughts & Occurances

• Anne Rice, the queen writer of dark novels such as the vampire-lover's “Interview with the Vampire,” and certainly one of the most incandescent, popular authors of our time, appears to have found God. According to the October 31st issue of Newsweek, Rice, 64, will be dedicating the rest of her life’s novels to Christ. In fact, her upcoming novel is entitled “Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt,” where a 7 year old Jesus is the narrator of his own story. Some say such a transition in focal point may hurt Rice’s ever-loyal fan base. I suppose only time will tell. I, for one, wouldn’t mind reading this newest book. To read the Newsweek article on Rice’s transition, click here.

• Taking a course in Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy this semester has been an extremely rewarding experience. My professor seems to be a brilliant man and has opened my mind up to an understanding of human thought and behavior that I had yet to fully encounter.

• For instance, there is often a view in my field that depression is maladaptive and exists as a barrier to human functioning that must, therefore, be eliminated. Taking depression and examining it at face value, I would have to agree with this idea. However, from what is deemed a “Constructivist” standpoint, I would have to question otherwise. From a constructivist view, depression is not a maladaptive barrier to human functioning. Instead, it is a central and meaningful aspect in human development. Depression can actually serve a useful purpose in the pursuit of what is called human “self-actualization,” wherein a person reaches their full potential as a human being. Thus, instead of attempting to be “corrective” and eliminate the depression, the therapist and client are “creative” and build upon it. The client can still hold onto the depression yet form new meanings through it. Very intriguing to think of depression as being “adaptive”!

• In other news, I never thought I’d be a cat lover. Sue me.

• Thinking back to what I learned in my undergraduate Teams & Team Leadership class, it can definitely be a good idea to involve a third party to mediate a dispute between two people or two groups. However, I have often questioned the value of involving a third party that is a mutual friend. If not effective, such an approach can create more barriers to the problem solving process. Thus, and I am not perfect, I do strive to take problems to a non-mutual friend/relative if the problem cannot be solved between the two people/groups.

• Stepping in cat barf can be quite the pleasant experience. In deed, the best part of waking up is getting cat barf between ones toes.

• I hope my blog is still here when I go to the site to copy and paste this into a template. I, as you probably know, haven’t blogged in so long that it’s just plain scary.

• I can’t wait for the next presidential elections.

• How did your parents teach you about sex, puberty, the birds and the bees, and all that jazz? If you’re a girl, did your mom happen to buy you a book entitled, “The What’s Happening to My Body Book for Girls”? My mom did. Never a talk. Just a book. And, I suppose, it worked! It is odd to think that not too far from now, many people my age will either be having to give “the talk” or a nice little book that says it all (and shows it all, as did the book my mom gave me).

• I highly recommend the show "Grey's Anatomy". Excellent show! It airs Sunday nights on ABC at 9 pm cdt.

• Well, it is time I wrap this thing up. Meanwhile, I recommend you check out http://www.ebaumsworld.com/ . ‘Tis one of my FAVE sites!