Today I read remarks written by a dear friend I respect. She's finishing law school this year, and she reminds me: Human rights means nothing if not that every single life is worth fighting for. Every single life – all 7 billion of us, from the world’s wealthiest man to my newborn nephew, we are all worth fighting for. Justice, mercy, truth – these are not empty ideas or futile dreams. No, as evidenced by the work and life of people like today’s honoree, these ideas are reality – and that reality is a choice. That reality is our choice. That reality is my choice.
Today I cleaned my room and consolidated some of my stuff into boxes. I'm going to leave this home of mine in several months, and it's hard to get off my mind. Boxes are collecting in the corner, and I'm starting to get rid of a few small things now because I'll have to do it eventually.
I found 8x10's I printed that fall after Kolkata 2010. 2010. Nearly two years ago. I fear that summer will fade into my memory, till all I remember is the serene lake and the beautiful sunsets. Yet there is the sardine-packed trains and the ignorance and the fact that our friend Sandip ended his life last summer, unable to withstand the loss of his girlfriend who thought death was better than the arranged marriage she was about to be forced into.
Today I hand-wrote letters to Stockton's 8th graders, telling them they can finish high school and college. I don't tell them the odds are against them and that other districts have more resources than they do.
Today I cleaned my room and consolidated some of my stuff into boxes. I'm going to leave this home of mine in several months, and it's hard to get off my mind. Boxes are collecting in the corner, and I'm starting to get rid of a few small things now because I'll have to do it eventually.
I found 8x10's I printed that fall after Kolkata 2010. 2010. Nearly two years ago. I fear that summer will fade into my memory, till all I remember is the serene lake and the beautiful sunsets. Yet there is the sardine-packed trains and the ignorance and the fact that our friend Sandip ended his life last summer, unable to withstand the loss of his girlfriend who thought death was better than the arranged marriage she was about to be forced into.
Today I hand-wrote letters to Stockton's 8th graders, telling them they can finish high school and college. I don't tell them the odds are against them and that other districts have more resources than they do.
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