The Lady(Bug) of the Household: R.I.P. Thurman A. Lorick, Jr. (1933-2017)

Remember The Dream

"I HAVE A DREAM"
Dr. Martin Luther King
Lincoln Memorial
Washington, DC
August 28, 1963

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"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 languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've 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. And so, we've 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 quicksands 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. And 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. And 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. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And 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 self-hood 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. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- 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. And 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, and 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, and 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.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with 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. And 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 snow-capped 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 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're free at last!"

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GONE WAY TOO SOON!
Michael Joseph Jackson
08/29/1958 – 06/25/2009

The Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called The Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to The Rainbow Bridge. There are hills and meadows for all of our special friends so they can play and run together. There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine where our friends are comfortable and warm.

All of the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made strong and whole again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are content and happy, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all play and run together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. Their bright eyes are intent; their eager body quivers. Suddenly they begin to run from the group, flying over the green grass, their legs carrying them faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress their beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then, you can cross The Rainbow Bridge together...

Paul C. Dahm

🕊 In loving memory of all my family pets, 6 dogs and 1 cat! Chaka, Champ, Duchess, Duke, King, Pebbles, and Queenie!

Sunday, July 2, 2017

R.I.P. Thurman A. Lorick, Jr. (1933-2017)

PHILADELPHIA TRIBUNE

I know I'm late, but I just found out we lost one of the greatest school photographers in Philadelphia. In case you don't know or remember who he is, Mr. Lorick was the owner and photographer of Thurman Studios at 53rd & Chestnut Streets in SW Philly. He was 83 years old when he passed away on June 23rd.

Just about everyone I know got their class rings and graduation photos from 'Thurman' back in the day--especially, if you didn't like the way your photos came back from the photographer the school hired. Do you remember picking only one of the proofs just for the yearbook and then, going to 'Thurman' so they could be done right? This man knew how to photograph us like no one else could.

So, just in case you missed it too, use the Philadelphia Tribune link to see the article printed on June 27th about his passing. And, as a tribute to him and his legacy at Thurman Studios, I'm posting the graduation photo and class ring he did for me 41 years ago. We will miss you, Mr. Lorick!

John Bartram High School - Class of 1976

4 comments:

Unknown said...: Thank you so much for this lovely tribute to my father, Thurman Lorick. How very kind of you. I was searching his name online and came across your site. How wonderful.

I was genuinely touched by your post. So many customers have told me how much he meant to them and the community. He would have been proud.

Thank you again and have a wonderful day.

Monica Lorick
Thurman Lorick's daughter; Thursday, August 10, 2017 at 3:33:00 PM EDT
Lady (Bug) / Grammy said...: Dear Monica,

I am so glad and humbled that you took the time to follow the link, read my post, and leave those kinds words. I lost my father in 2002, so I know how much you must miss your father as well. One of the things I don't like about Blogger is I have no idea if you will ever return to read this comment--but, I hope you will see it one day. In the meantime, I will keep you and your family in prayer as your hearts continue to heal, but also rejoice in the legacy and memories of your father. God bless and thanks again for stopping by!

The Lady (Bug) of the Household; Thursday, August 10, 2017 at 6:48:00 PM EDT
Unknown said...: I saw your reply because I requested a copy of all responses. Commenters only have to check the box to receive copies. Have a great evening. And, yes, I do miss my dad.; Thursday, August 10, 2017 at 8:30:00 PM EDT
S.M. said...: Ms. Lorick,
I didn’t know your father, but I appreciate his legacy. His business and photo records may be helpful for family ancestry research, if still available. Did anyone store or acquire his business and photo records...from the early 70’s.; Tuesday, April 30, 2019 at 11:09:00 PM EDT

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A Chosen Exile: A History of Racial Passing in American Life

A Chosen Exile: A History of Racial Passing in American Life

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The ABC Movie of the Week: Big Movies for the Small Screen

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Race, Riots, and Roller Coasters: The Struggle over Segregated Recreation in America

Race, Riots, and Roller Coasters: The Struggle over Segregated Recreation in America

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Many people are fond of ladybugs because of their colorful, spotted appearance. But farmers love them for their appetite. Most ladybugs voraciously consume plant-eating insects, such as aphids, and in doing so they help to protect crops. Ladybugs lay hundreds of eggs in the colonies of aphids and other plant-eating pests. When they hatch, the ladybug larvae immediately begin to feed. By the end of its three-to-six-week life, a ladybug may eat some 5,000 aphids. Ladybugs are also called lady beetles or, in Europe, ladybird beetles. There are about 5,000 different species of these insects, and not all of them have the same appetites. A few ladybugs prey not on plant-eaters but on plants. The Mexican bean beetle and the squash beetle are destructive pests that prey upon the crops mentioned in their names. Ladybugs appear as half-spheres, tiny, spotted, round or oval-shaped domes. They have short legs and antennae. Their distinctive spots and attractive colors are meant to make them unappealing to predators. Ladybugs can secrete a fluid from joints in their legs which gives them a foul taste. Their coloring is likely a reminder to any animals that have tried to eat their kind before: "I taste awful." A threatened ladybug may both play dead and secrete the unappetizing substance to protect itself.

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Sunday, July 2, 2017

R.I.P. Thurman A. Lorick, Jr. (1933-2017)

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