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Essay excerpts essay of law of life

Essay excerpts

Below is an excerpt from Bernard's Introduction. Lumpkin Though this book borrows its title from Nina Simone and Lorraine Hansberry, my first sense of what it means to be young, gifted, and black came from my father. A physicist, educator, and triathlete, he was a true renaissance man whose drive and talents carried him far from his modest beginnings.

Oscar James Lumpkin Jr. At Cathedral High School, he ran track, won awards in math and journalism, and graduated as the salutatorian of the class of After high school, my father enrolled at St. At Columbia, my father met his intellectual soul mate and the love of his life, my mother, Sarah Benzaquen, who was pursuing a PhD in French literature. They were an unlikely pair: a Sephardic Jew from Tangiers, Morocco, and a black math and science whiz from Watts.

They lived on the rue des Bernardins, the street for which I am named. And they might have stayed in Paris, but after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. As a black scientist and educator, he had a role to play in the civil rights movement. In the early s, he led the fight to establish the first open-admissions program at City College of New York, which guaranteed every New York City high-school student a college education.

Not long after retiring from academia, my father was diagnosed with cancer. We spent his last months together. During this time, he shared with me many stories from his life: growing up in Watts, embracing the social and political ferment of s New York, and discovering what it means to be a black American while living in Europe. He also talked about his parents and their roots. My addiction reached a point where I no longer cared about the people around me.

Just as the cannibals of New Guinea fed on their kinds, I fed on the emotions and feelings of my family and loved ones as I continued down a slope, that if I slipped, I might never be able to climb up and out. On 9 October , I finally slipped. In order to pay for my growing addiction, I started trafficking.

As long as the money was right, any drug or weight was acceptable. This came to a crushing end when I was arrested with 1. With a mandatory death sentence for anything above 15 grams, I knew this was the end. Whenever I closed my eyes, I would see myself on a platform, with a hood over my head and a noose around my neck. This image haunted me from sixteen months.

February , just as I was going over the edge, I caught a rock. This rock was the news that if I pleaded guilty, I might be given a lighter sentence. Agreeing to the terms, I started a new journey as an inmate, with a jail term of 22 years and 8 months.

Prison gave me a lot of time to reflect on my journey in life so far; its every action, every word and every broken relationship.

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The D. Catalog www. I Mean Me. I Mean You' is a New Release this week! Martin Luther King, Jr. Below is an excerpt from Bernard's Introduction. Lumpkin Though this book borrows its title from Nina Simone and Lorraine Hansberry, my first sense of what it means to be young, gifted, and black came from my father. A physicist, educator, and triathlete, he was a true renaissance man whose drive and talents carried him far from his modest beginnings.

Oscar James Lumpkin Jr. At Cathedral High School, he ran track, won awards in math and journalism, and graduated as the salutatorian of the class of After high school, my father enrolled at St. At Columbia, my father met his intellectual soul mate and the love of his life, my mother, Sarah Benzaquen, who was pursuing a PhD in French literature.

They were an unlikely pair: a Sephardic Jew from Tangiers, Morocco, and a black math and science whiz from Watts. They lived on the rue des Bernardins, the street for which I am named. And they might have stayed in Paris, but after the assassination of Dr.

Martin Luther King Jr. As a black scientist and educator, he had a role to play in the civil rights movement. In order to pay for my growing addiction, I started trafficking. As long as the money was right, any drug or weight was acceptable.

This came to a crushing end when I was arrested with 1. With a mandatory death sentence for anything above 15 grams, I knew this was the end. Whenever I closed my eyes, I would see myself on a platform, with a hood over my head and a noose around my neck. This image haunted me from sixteen months.

February , just as I was going over the edge, I caught a rock. This rock was the news that if I pleaded guilty, I might be given a lighter sentence. Agreeing to the terms, I started a new journey as an inmate, with a jail term of 22 years and 8 months. Prison gave me a lot of time to reflect on my journey in life so far; its every action, every word and every broken relationship. More fortunate than most, my family never gave up on me, my friends accepted me. Nowadays, my family, every friend and every stranger that come into my life, telling me not to give up, are like rocks embedded on the slope I had fallen down from.

They give me the courage and persistence to pull myself up again, and journey towards a clean and safe life.

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We think of conditions as qualifications and we do not want to attach qualifications to love. So we say love is unconditional. But that is wrong. Love is always conditional. Some weeks ago I was struck by something I read about St.

Catherine of Siena, as I wrote about elsewhere. At a certain point in her life Catherine discerns a call to care for one particular woman with breast cancer whom no one else will aid because the stench of her rotting flesh is so nauseating.

Catherine is likewise nauseated, but rather than turn away, she presses her nose against the flesh to make herself accustomed to it. On the verge of being sick, Catherine does this:. When looking from a distance at Catherine of Siena, it is all-too-easy and quite tempting to say that her life was marked by unconditional love.

That is untrue because that does not at all account for the particularity of her love. Here , in this room, with this woman, with this rotting flesh and these sores and this pus, Catherine reckons with the conditions. For her to love, to will the good of this other, means figuring out how to love in this particular way. Needless to say, the solution is shocking, if not repulsive.

The fantasy of unconditional love has no time for that. This is the conditional love of one who seeks to love as Jesus loves. Like what you read? Submit your email below to have our newest blogs delivered directly to your inbox each week. Topics: leonardjdelorenzo , love , saints , self-giving love , feast days , church life journal. The McGrath Institute Blog helps Catholics live and hand on their faith in Jesus Christ, especially in the family, home and parish, and cultivates and inspires everyday leaders to live out the fullness and richness of their faith in the simple, little ways that make up Church life.

Accessibility Information. McGrath Institute for Church Life. DeLorenzo on Apr 29, AM. Later she confessed to Raimondo [her spiritual director and confessor] that once she had mastered her revulsion the horrible drink had seemed delicious. The book also reports that the college benefited from Native American Removal, breaking ground in a land once occupied by the Lenni Lenape. Below are excerpts from the seven chapters that investigated this untold history.

In the winter of , Bartholomew Calvin the younger son of Stephen Calvin and brother of Hezekiah , composed a letter. He himself had attended Princeton for a brief period in the s, alongside the suffering young George White Eyes, and he longed to use his education to make legalistic and rhetorical points. But he also wanted his letter to be effective, to sway the white men whose attitudes he knew so well. You are young, and strong, and rich, and therefore fit representatives of your people.

No more. The aim of this essay is simple: to name them, to tell their stories. Here the reader will encounter familiar names: Frelinghuysen, Hardenbergh, Neilson, and many more whose histories and contributions to the college are well known and well remembered.

We add new names here: Will, Phillis, Dinah, and others, too, who served—and resisted—the men whose names we know so well. Reverend Frelinghuysen settled his family in the Raritan Valley, New Jersey, in and was an active evangelical minister during the First Great Awakening.

His sons carried on his legacy. In , Theodore Frelinghuysen traveled to the Netherlands for two years to seek funds for the new school, but he largely failed to get support in Europe and died on his return voyage to America. The family continued to play a role in the early history of what would become Rutgers College.

In one sense his life is extraordinary, given his ability to publicize his autobiography in print. However, his life might arguably be representative of the men, women, and children whom European traders bought, sold, and held as legal chattel throughout the Atlantic world. Alongside more traditional ways of making use of wills, these documents are also useful for uncovering details about slaving culture in New Jersey and New York, and the lived experiences of the enslaved.

Often excluded from formal means of creating and saving knowledge, locating and narrating the lives of the enslaved within the historical archive can prove to be a challenging task. To be sure, slavery was ubiquitous in and around Rutgers. Some indicated that their slaves be freed after their spouses had died. Even a person who did not own slaves may have hired slaves from someone else, attended church with enslaved persons, or have been called to be an executor for an estate that included slaves.

This essay analyzes the wills of five trustees and one contractor, covering the period from to The wills illuminate key characteristics about the institution of slavery as practiced by the trustees and the lived experiences of the enslaved persons whom they owned.

Blessed by its prime location at the navigable high-tide limit of the Raritan River and midway on the thoroughfare between Philadelphia and New York, New Brunswick, New Jersey, served traders and travelers advantageously in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Their names endure emblazoned on the academic buildings and surrounding streets: founding trustee Philip French — , Colonel John Neilson — , Jacob R. Hardenbergh — , and James Schureman — They trod the grounds of the contemporary College Avenue campus en route to their households of employ on resplendent Water Street and on their way to the Samuel Holcomb and Ayres-Freeman general stores at the north end of town.

Yet while the black residents of New Brunswick lived and worked near Old Queens, the vast majority of them lived lives divorced from the daily happenings at the college. Instead, they spent their time as domestic workers within the impressive homes that dotted Albany and Water Streets, gambling and laughing in the tumble-down Halfpenny Town neighborhood or running errands outside the bustling Market-House near the Raritan.

It is a poignant testament to the oppression of slavery that our understanding of humans in bondage most often derives from the documents white observers left behind. Indeed, remarkably few names of black residents—enslaved or free—in New Brunswick have survived in the historical record.

The few exceptions are piecemeal: those who earned a notorious spot in the local newspapers as runaways, those who caught a fleeting mention in the ledger books of local elites like Dr.