Sometimes it takes a dream - it is how most influential things happen in this world. We wake up and remember; we feel the water wash the soap from our hair and we wander out of our world into another and come back together in our minds with something better. We are running in the park and losing our mental footing to the beat as we encompass a plan to change the world in some small way and there are times when we are chatting with friends planning a trip to Fripp Island to write a screenplay. Or listen to a famous chef who towers over you who in the midst of opening a new restaurant tells you he just finished his own book - a candid account of how to live life with a condition that others may be stifled by and now he says - you have a friend.

So as I listen and read the words of King, it inspires me to do more. To say more. To stand up for those who cannot and to hold someone's hand in need and let them know they are not alone. Make a difference, a small one; a big one - one that you can just by pouring your heart into it. Take the risk. Rather than sit back and wish you would have made the call, sent the card or hugged someone - do it. You will be energized by the smile, the laugh, the hug back.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

In 1945, Jackie played one season in the Negro Baseball League, traveling all over the Midwest with the Kansas City Monarchs. But greater challenges and achievements were in store for him. In 1947, Brooklyn Dodgers president Branch Rickey approached Jackie about joining the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Major Leagues had not had an African-American player since 1889, when baseball became segregated. When Jackie first donned a Brooklyn Dodger uniform, he pioneered the integration of professional athletics in America. By breaking the color barrier in baseball, the nation's preeminent sport, he courageously challenged the deeply rooted custom of racial segregation in both the North and the South. Rickey made it clear and told Robinson, “It’ll be tough. You’re going to take douse you never dreamed of. But if you are willing to try, I’ll back you all the way.” And Rickey was right.

Racial slurs from the crowd and members of his own team, as well as from opponents, were standard fare. During one game as a Dodger, Robinson was up to bat and the crowd started yelling racial slurs and throwing debris on the field. He had booted two ground balls and the boos were cascading over the diamond. In full view of thousands of spectators, Pee Wee Reese, the team captain and Dodger shortstop, walked over and put his arm around Jackie right in the middle of the game. “That may have saved my career,” Robinson reflected later. “Pee Wee made me feel that I belonged.”

At the end of Robinson's rookie season with the Brooklyn Dodgers, he had become National League Rookie of the Year with 12 homers, a league-leading 29 steals, and a .297 average. In 1949, he was selected as the NL's Most Valuable player of the Year and also won the batting title with a .342 average that same year. As a result of his great success, Jackie was eventually inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962.

The power of belonging, of being part of a team, enables us to conquer and win.

Train

I am on the train from Boston home to NYC and just finished watching Julie/Julia which I have seen a few times. I was inspired this time more by the writing than the food and cooking; of which I love. I am listening to John Presnell, a gentleman with whom I work and had won a talent contest at work with a song he wrote, sang and played guitar and now has a cd cut.

I was able to spend a lot of time with my oldest son, Shane who is 17. We sat in the living room on Saturday night with no tv, no facebook, no texting, no music - just us - talking.

He told me about his friend Nivela. I am not sure if they are 'dating' but she has been a great influence on him.

We talked about his job where he works as a telemarketer and does well. He has quite a sense of humor and is driven by his work ethic to never be late, do well and earn based on his calls. He picked up and kept a Southern accent from his 5 years in Louisiana which must add a little bonus that his fellow Bostonians may not over the phone.

He told me some of his techniques; winning techniques that give him the edge over his colleagues. He seems to be tapped on the shoulder to raise money for the blind. He goes into this raspy Southern drawl explaining to the woman on the phone, 'I know mam what its like to foreclose mam, we survived Katrina but when we came home our house was 2 streets down from where it was. Now come here with me. Close your eyes. Imagine your life this way. Everyday. Can you help us out with $150? No? I know. It is hard. The sound the walk and do not walk signals are there because of us. We have done so much and feel like we can do so much more with a little of your help. I am sure you can find $75 in your heart. Yes, we have put the Braille on ATM's and feel like it is not enough. $50 is so generous if you can. We can add training programs to assistance dogs and for every blind person who can cross the street and buy a quart of milk by themselves can do it because of you - you can change a life by adding purpose with your $25 donation."

He revealed the secrets of his business with how his boss rallies them, "They have two kids; Now you have two kids. They lost their home; You've lost your home. Their parents are ill; your parents are ill. Now go!"

The point is he was so proud of being able to make a living and a difference. He told me that for the past 15 checks he has taken $100 from each and saved it and the rest was for fun money. He also saved a portion of his summer lawn mowing money and has about $1,800 stashed away. Of course it is hidden in varying locations in the house. Which preempted our conversation on banking. He has no account so his mother and I cash his checks from him in our accounts. I blew his mother's cover because she takes a week to get him the money back waiting for it to 'clear' and I am able to deposit and give him the cash right away. I told him it was because she has Bank of America and I have Citibank. The truth is I pay in federal taxes what she makes for a far more important line of work. She works as a para professional with Autistic children. How athletes and actors are paid millions and although their entertainment value and talent should not go unrecognized, the work of educators is exponentially underpaid.

He also pulled out his W2 wondering what that was all about which came the entire state and federal tax conversation as well as the social security issue. He wondered why some of his work dialogue danced around the blasphemous privatitation of the social security system. As a parent, you are expected to possess mounds of infinite wisdom and you look up with a win when you can answer that means government forfeits control of social security and it will be managed otherwise. Good or bad, I knew the answer.

Since I took the train, we had no car to go to the atm and cash his check so we bundled up and took the bus together to Harvard Square and had a great time together. Another opportunity for the smoking conversation and that he had to stop. He is healthy, young and full of life and all that money he has stashed around the house could be even more with that pricy, dirty, unhealthy and very uncool habit. I am not going to pretend to be father of the year and know I have made far too many parenting mistakes, but how many fathers know where their sons like to sit on the bus? So there we were. Second seat from the back. On the way to Harvard Square.

We first went to 7 eleven to deposit and cash his check. He wanted one of those extra large hot dogs rolling on the stainless heaters and since we could not deposit at this atm, we cut through Urban Outfitters to get to the Citibank across the Square. I love that store and I know there are many things of which I am far to old to buy, I just love to look and he enjoyed the rique books, etc. After the 'drop' we went back to 7 eleven and he bought his hot dog and slathered it with melted cheese and hot peppers and miraculously did not waste any of it. Again, he obliged while I went into the international news stand while he stood outside enjoying his snack. Afterwards we boarded the bus and headed home. We talked about getting his learners permit, his driver's liscence and a car he saw that he wanted to buy. He told me he wanted to see his little hershey kiss. That would be Nivela. And so he did when we went home and I asked him to not be late and text if he planned on staying over. He came home at a reasonable hour.

We didn't go on any roller coasters, we didn't solve world hunger or find a cure for cancer but we did have one of the best nights we have ever had. Just me and Shane and great conversation. A night I will cherish and look forward to the next.

"In 1984, Morgans Hotel Group developed its first property, Morgans on Madison Avenue in New York City. An instant hit, the hotel revolutionized the hospitality industry with the introduction of the “Boutique Hotel” concept, characterized by personalized service and home-away-from-home ambiance in a setting of timeless elegance." And the legend continues with MONDRIAN in SoHo premiering this coming February! Be a part of something interesting

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MONDRIAN SoHo

"In 1984, Morgans Hotel Group developed its first property, Morgans on Madison Avenue in New York City. An instant hit, the hotel revolutionized the hospitality industry with the introduction of the “Boutique Hotel” concept, characterized by personalized service and home-away-from-home ambiance in a setting of timeless elegance." And the legend continues with MONDRIAN in SoHo premiering this coming February! Be a part of something interesting -

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http://www.ianschragercompany.com/

Very casually, my neighbor Laura asked if we were interested in seeing her husband perform and that he was a musician. We said yes, it would be fun, why not.

We met in the hallway a couple of times, she has a handsome, smart 12 year old son, Chris who has a dog named Brando who hangs with our dog and went to our first NYC dog show and entered M&M and it was a lot of fun. M nor Brando won anything but in our humble opinions were first runners up.

Laura shares some typical parenting challenges of raising a teen boy, life's trials, technoligical hiccups, her work as a physical therapist and is genuinely a lovely, caring Mom, Wife and friend who I enjoy having adult conversations with and the kind of person with whom you can mutually, instantly assimilate; laugh and empahize.

As far as the concert is concerned, I did not know what time or where and did not find out until after 7pm last night. She sent us a text with the location on W. 3rd and we rush out and arrive a little late.

The show was sold out, we were allowed 'standing room' only so we did.

And stumbled upon a legend....playing at the Blue Note.

All I can say is don't miss him! Amazingly talented, beautiful, sexy Jazz with a latin vibe that at once soothes your soul and rocks your sinews

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gato_Barbieri

Whenever I Call You FRIEND

Reach out to a long lost friend today and let them know you are thinking about them, even if they already know. Spend time with a friend who you think you know well and find out something new that you can share.

A couple of weeks ago I went to see my dear friend Kelly and although we have our differences - she does not like blue, chocolate or bananas {all my favorites}; all else is brother/sister.

We were driving around New Jersey, shopping, having fun and this legendary song came on and she said that it was her favorite song. One that has been mine for many years.

Although a small, seemingly trivial thing; however one more great moment to share with a friend!