That word sums up both the weather and the mood in Wisconsin today. Last night grown men cried--their sobs brought on by a combination of frostbite and defeat. And in the next two weeks before the SuperBowl, Packer fans will lick their wounds and try to find solace in the season leading up to last night--and begin the annual speculation on #4's intentions for next season.
Meanwhile, the cars start hard and people keep their curtains pulled tight against the cloudy skies and fierce winds. We question the sanity of the settlers who first inhabited this godforsaken wasteland of winter. Those pioneers who huddled in sod houses and clapboard homes, burning corn cobs and cow dung, praying for the spring thaw so they could plant seeds to harvest a few months later and store for the next long, long winter ahead. We wonder what madness or determination must flow through our veins, those of us descended from immigrant farmers. What dreams fueled their behavior? What ambition did these pioneers have for their children?
It somehow seems appropriate to reflect on these things on MLK Day. Knowing who and where you came from can help you decide what direction you're headed, and I believe King's vision is appropriate for everyone. It's time we all start setting aside our selfish ambition and begin working and sacrificing for the greater good, because as King said in his famous speech, "we refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation." When we start lifting each other up, we can all rise up together.