Charlie Chaplin's Great Dictator Speech

in 1940, when Charlie Chaplin was filming "The Great Dictator", Hitler invaded France. Chaplin changed the ending of the movie and added an out of character speech which now is legendary. It was not a speech by the character, but by Chaplin himself to the world.

You can find video of this speech here: It is quite moving.

I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an emperor. That's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible; Jew, Gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone, and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in.

Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.

To those who can hear me, I say, do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

Soldiers! Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you; who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines, you are not cattle, you are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don't hate! Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers! Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of St. Luke, it is written that the kingdom of God is within man, not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people, have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let us use that power. Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill that promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world! To do away with national barriers! To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers, in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Walking Wounded

When I was at lunch today, I had the honor of speaking with 2 Vietnam veterans who were sitting at the counter. I thanked them for their service and one of them - George C - told me that he was in the 1st batch of military members who were hit by Agent Orange. He has lived through 6 heart attacks and a recent surgery on his jugular vein. An amazing man who seemed more amazed that I didn't recoil at the sight of his scars. His friend, George C II, was also struck with Agent Orange and has health issues as a result. He said he felt that his biggest scars are the ones no one sees. The mental scars of PTSD and being a prisoner of his own mind at times and having flashbacks while he was driving that the cars were not vehicles, but rather trees in the jungle of Vietnam. He has given up driving.

When we parted, they asked me what I do for work. I told them and then George C asked me what I do for life (for joy). I told him that I am a writer and photographer and said that if I'd had my camera with me, I would have asked to take their photos. I paid for their meals, thanked them again for their service and the conversation and they invited me for coffee next Friday afternoon and told me to bring the camera. They would like their stories told through photos and essays. How amazing is that? Simply because I took an interest. I am so amazed at where these encounters are leading me these days and the way my art helps me to interact with the world around me.

I wrote the following piece as part of my eulogy for a friend, a Vietnam veteran I'd known for 35 of my 45 years who committed suicide to escape his demons.


NONE UNWOUNDED

A soldier died today. Not in combat on some foreign soil but in combat on the battlefield of the mind. A soldier died today. He took his own life. Some will call him a coward.

Whether we agree with the reasons our country is at war or not, the fact still remains that we have people fighting for our right to play Monday morning quarterback over it all. Those who would say that our soldiers are stupid and that's why they're in Iraq, Afghanistan, or anywhere else in the world they're needed are naive.

The soldier who serves our country is not evil, self-serving, or looking for glory. Some were given a choice: the military or jail. Others were drafted, still others joined voluntarily after some heinous act jeopardized the safety of our country and its citizens.

These men and women have seen things in the performance of their duties that most of us haven't even dreamed of in our worst nightmares. Decades after their service, what they did because their country asked them to or because their own life was threatened during combat, still haunts their minds and hearts. Many have never forgiven themselves and believe they can never atone enough for the lives taken, damage caused, and peace of mind taken, even though those lives were of the "enemy". They weep for the loss of humanity.

Even those who did not die, lose limbs, or see comrades die lost something. The years and months away from family, freedoms, and easy going spirits were lost. Innocence was lost. Simply because the pain cannot be readily observed does not negate its existence. José Narosky has said "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers."

It takes people with courage to stand up for the weak, less fortunate, and humanity to allow us our freedoms. The right to raise our families and sleep safely in our beds each night rests on their weary shoulders. Hold them up, thank them, and most of all, honor them.

Paulissa Kipp 2011

Simple Heroics

SIMPLE HEROICS
by Joseph Walker

It was the simplest of gestures, really.
But something about it was terribly poignant and profound -- and instructive to anyone looking for solutions in today's complex world.

Sixteen-year-old Brian had been asked to participate in a program at church. Never much one for public speaking, he accepted the invitation apprehensively. His younger sister, Gretchen, knew of his anxiety, and tried to soothe him with some good-natured teasing.

"Don't worry about it, Brian," she reminded him more than once. "You can't really disappoint anyone because nobody is expecting much."

You know -- the sort of thing you'd expect from a little sister.

On the appointed day Brian was in his place wearing his best clothes, a fresh haircut and the most strained smile this side of Miss First Runner-Up. Blame part of that on pre-speech jitters. Blame a little more on the car accident Brian was involved in on the way to church -- not to mention the broken rib he sustained in the collision.

"Look at it this way," I whispered to him as the meeting got underway. "The worst thing that could possibly happen has already happened. It's clear sailing from here on in."

Well, not quite.

When Brian rose to speak, the pocket on his jacket somehow became tangled with the armrest of his chair. The unmistakable ripping sound elicited an audible gasp from the congregation, and brought a pained expression to Brian's mother's face. As Brian turned to see what the ripping was, he lost control of the book he was holding, and it fell on the foot of the woman sitting next to him.

The congregation was beginning to titter, and he hadn't said a word.

I saw him glance at the door. I'm sure he considered running, and I doubt any would have blamed him. But he bravely made his way to the podium and began to present his message. He was doing a pretty good job, all things considered, when I noticed something unusual -- blood. Dripping from Brian's nose. And not just a little.

At first Brian was unaware of what was happening, even though it was painfully obvious to those in the congregation. Then he absently rubbed his nose, and stopped speaking in mid-sentence when he saw the bright crimson fluid that stained his hand.

To his credit, he plunged ahead with his remarks, as if he hoped no one would notice the blood running down his face. He tried to disguise his feeble attempts at wiping the blood with his hand, but unfortunately, he only succeeded at making the mess worse.

Most in the congregation were transfixed. It was sort of like driving by an accident on the freeway. You didn't want to see it, but you couldn't keep yourself from looking. Then one person decided to stop being a spectator.

It wasn't until she had almost made her way to the front of the chapel that I noticed Gretchen. You might expect that a little sister would be taking secret delight in her brother's humiliation, but not this 12-year-old.

As Brian continued speaking she walked purposefully up the aisle and directly to his side, a look of sincere concern on her face. She handed him the handkerchief she was carrying and stood there with him, her arm around his waist as he quickly mopped his nose, mouth and chin.

When he finished he handed the hankie back to her. She smiled at him, gave him a quick squeeze and returned to her seat.

Brian finished his talk, and I'm not the only one in the congregation who thought his performance after the incident was more confident than before. Nor was I alone in feeling that the day's greatest sermon had been preached -- wordlessly -- by his sister.

Like I said, Gretchen's gesture wasn't exactly overwhelming. Still, it was heroic in my view, in part because of its simplicity. Gretchen didn't worry about whether or not taking a hankie to her brother in the middle of a church service was appropriate. She didn't form a committee to study her options. She just saw someone who needed help, and she provided it.

You don't have to look hard to find everyday parallels, do you?

We stumble upon similar situations all the time -- the disoriented tourist on the street, the elderly woman struggling to reach that first step on the bus, the lost child in the department store. Usually it doesn't take much to ease the trauma of the moment -- some pocket change, an outstretched hand, a few kind words or a couple of minutes of time. But too often we choose not to get involved, assuming that others will come along to offer the kindness we keep to ourselves.

And usually, others do. It seems there's always a Gretchen around who is willing to step outside herself and do what needs to be done. But the world can always use a few more.

Yeah, I know -- there's the risk that our helpful zeal will lead us to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time. But the way I see it, that risk is worth it -- especially when you consider the prospect of someday being the one who is up there with a bloody nose.

And without a Gretchen in sight.

-- Joseph Walker

Leave The World A Little Better

LEAVE THE WORLD A BIT BETTER
by Ron White

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote a poem on success. One of his measures of success in that poem was to, “Leave the world a bit better.” That line has always stuck in my head. Emerson said you have succeeded if you leave the world a bit better. I have made that line part of my life philosophy. When the tide goes out, there is a mark where the water was. When the waters of life recede from the shore of my being and my heart pumps for the last time, my desire is that there will be a mark where I stood. My aim is that the mark will say, “For some decades, a man occupied this space that saw others more important than himself and made an effort to leave the world a better place for them and those yet to come.”

Our society tells us that success is measured by bank accounts, power, beauty and wealth. These are often the result of hard work, luck or birth. They are not evil and I strive for some of them daily. However, they are not the marks by which I will measure the success of my life.

So how do you do it? How do you “leave the world a bit better?”

---

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- Give a percent of your income away to a charity or church. This makes your community better.
- Save a percentage of your income to pass down to your family when you leave.
- Volunteer your time for those who are less fortunate. Are you volunteering anywhere?
- Mentor someone who needs a positive direction in life.
- Follow and get involved in politics. Our laws and leaders will determine the future. You can have a hand in that future.

Or you can amass as much wealth as you can, spend it as fast as you can on the fading desires of your heart and seek to please yourself first. Our culture might tell you that this is success. Emerson tells us that it is not. I encourage you to realize that the waters of your life will eventually withdraw from the shore. When it does, will there be a watermark?

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Ron White is the nation's #1 Memory Expert and is one of the top in the world.

Enlarging Our Vision

This post really sums up the thoughts I have about advocating for those less fortunate. Please take the time to read it.

by Bob Perks

"You are the sum total of everything you believe and see in the world," I said.

I was speaking to a small group recently, sharing my thoughts and ideas for the new year. I went on to urge everyone to look for the opportunity to see life in the details.

"For having spent this time together today, we are now a little bit more than we were yesterday," I concluded. "You are now a part of me wherever I go."

As it happens after every talk I share, people come up to offer their kind words and general comments and ask a few questions. From experience, I know that some will be brief and some, well, they will dominate the little time I have until the next speaker takes the podium. I make every attempt to speak to each person waiting, even if I must take them out to the hallway in order to permit the meeting to go on.

Eye contact is key. I try to "see what they are saying." Keeping a promise I made to myself, I did speak with about a dozen people that day. I managed to speak with all the people in the line, but as I was gathering my notes, I heard someone say, "It's also what you didn't see."

I looked around and saw no one. Shrugging it off, I continued my effort to collect myself.

I picked up my belongings and turned quickly, nearly running into a man standing directly behind me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there, my friend," I said.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said. "I heard your talk."

"Oh, thanks for being there."

"It's also what you didn't see," he said.

Not having any idea what that meant, I looked over my glasses and paused for a second before asking, "What didn't I see?"

"You said, ‘You are the sum total of everything you believe and see in the world,’" he explained, "but I believe it's more about what you don't see."

I asked him to explain. "It's easy to say that we need to see life in the details, but we must also learn what to look for."

He was right. "So you’re saying we are what we choose to see," I said.

"Yes, and your job is to help us learn what to look for," he added. He then shook my hand, placed his hand on my shoulder, smiled, and walked away.

I sat down and thought about what he said. I thought about the many things we don’t see:

It's easy to see the light, but we need to value the darkness, too. There we will find the lost and lonely who are always left behind.

Anyone can find a rose in a field of dandelions, praise its beauty, and bathe in its perfume, but who will see the value in what appears to be weeds?

We can celebrate the first one to cross the finish line, but who will see the magnificent effort of the one who finished last?

We can stand in awe of the master architects who built the Taj Mahal, but who is moved by the maintenance workers who clean it and make it shine daily?

We can climb to the top of a mountain and congratulate ourselves for having accomplished the feat. But who sees the miracle in the creation of both us and the mountain?

Yes, we are the sum total of all we believe, all we choose to see, and all we don't.

Maybe we are given just one day at a time to live but many chances to see it differently. The question to ask ourselves is, “What have I been missing?”

Adventure With Grandma

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I
Remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big
Sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even
Dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day
Because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told
The truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier
When swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were
World-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her
Everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous!
Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes
Me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second
World-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General
Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we
Walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle
In those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it.

I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but
Never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and
Crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For
A few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill,
Wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the
Kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out,

When I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath
And messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.Pollock' s grade-two class.
Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess
During the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he
Had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and
He didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement.
I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm,
And he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady

Behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I
Replied shyly. "It's .... For Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get

Any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and
Ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible)
And wrote on the package, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" -- Grandma said that Santa
Always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house,
Explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's
Helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept
Noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk Then Grandma gave me
A nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on
His step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and
Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door
To open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering,
Beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that
Those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they
Were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

============ ========= ========= =

He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under
A tree.

Whatever You Did Not Do Unto the Least of Them

© Paulissa Kipp

When I was out shopping yesterday, I saw a homeless person over by the Ace Hardware on 90th. He was wrapped in a coat and further bundled against the frigid cold by a heavy blanket. Nowhere in sight were things like a hat, scarf, gloves or mitten or shoes. At first I thought he might be waiting for the bus, though he was quite a ways from the stop if that were the case. I went into the store and did my shopping but the image of this man huddled against the cold burnished itself into my mind. I came across a rack with hat, mittens and scarves on clearance and bought one of each. I keep an extra pair of socks in the car in case I get stuck in the snow; I grabbed those out of the storage bin and approached the man.

His face was raw and wind burnt, lined by harsh weather and the years. A tear ran down his cheek. I touched him on the shoulder and said, "Sir you must be very cold. I hope these items will warm you. Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee and warm yourself?"

"You've warmed my heart just by stopping but a cup of coffee would be a treat", he said.

I got the car and pulled up beside him and watched him limp a bit as I helped him into the car. "Got that in the war. It acts up more when it's cold outside".

We went into the grocery store and took a seat at a booth in the restaurant. I ordered us both coffee and breakfast. The breakfast special arrived, 2 eggs over easy, toast, and hash browns. The man bowed his head before digging in and then said, "Do you believe in entertaining angels unaware?"

"I do", I said. "I think there are some who look at me and look through me as though by looking away or past me, they can make what is uncomfortable go away" he sighed. He wrapped the toast in his napkin, placed the package tenderly in his pocket, and said "For later".

"Would you like me to take you somewhere warm? You shouldn't be out so long in the cold."

"Yes, but I'd like to wash up a little first. If you'd excuse me." He slowly rose and shuffled to the restroom.

Meanwhile, I thought about he said as I paid our check. He's been in there a long time, I thought. Fifteen passed before I asked a waiter to please go and check on the older gentleman that had been sitting with me. The waiter returned and said, "I don't see him, ma'am."

"Surely he didn't disappear into thin air! Could you please check again?" I said.

The waiter walked off and returned a short time later. "I'm sorry, miss but he isn't there."

As I gathered my things, my eyes fell upon a crumpled, dirty piece of paper on his seat. I slowly opened it, afraid of invading the man's privacy though I didn't know where he went.

Three words jumped off the page; there were no more. "You are beautiful".

Yes sir, you are.

An Odd Christmas Night

Well it certainly was an interesting, odd, and somewhat disturbing day. After our guests left, David and I were hanging out watching a movie and we heard a knock on the door. David answered and there was a young woman in her early 20s, in a walking boot, pajamas, and a sweatshirt. She said she was locked out and asked to use our phone. David noticed that she had a walking cast and invited in to use the phone. She tried calling several people and didn’t reach anyone so David asked if we would take her somewhere. She her soon-to-be sister inlaw lived in an area not far from us, so I gave her a coat I wasn’t using and some sweatshirts and we piled into the car.

As we drove and drove trying to find the house (she’d only been there once and didn’t know the address) it felt a bit like a needle in a haystack. “I don’t recognize anything here. What about this street? I’m not crazy. I’ll know it when I see it.” As we tried to get some details that might help us help her, it came out that she’s been in town 4 months, doesn’t know her fiance’s place of employment or where he works and pretty no one in town besides him.

As she spoke I remembered a similar Christmas night nearly 25 years ago when I was living in Oklahoma. I’d spent the previous 4 days stretching 2 packets of oatmeal because that was the only food in the house. My fiancé at the time had left me the week before to find work in Oklahoma City. He was supposed to have been home the next day. A week later, I was worried, hungry and not sure of how I would survive on my own without a phone, car, job, or anything. I was completely dependent on him. Around 3 am Christmas morning he came in drunk and starting tearing up the house because I didn’t have dinner hot and ready. I was shot at, had a knife thrown at me, my jaw dislocated, and a sprained ankle. I waited until he passed out and left in the middle of the night with the clothes on my back and walked 3 miles to the nearest neighbor to use the phone.

So I identified with this poor girl. We drove for quite a while and while we were driving all the feelings of that awful Christmas years ago bubbled to the surface – the humiliation, the shock at being in the position of asking a total stranger for help and hoping they did, no clothing, wondering what the next step should be, desperation, and worry. I also felt vulnerable and wondered at times as the story unfolded if it was all a ruse and if our home was being robbed blind while we were looking for the needle in the haystack. About the time that David and I were ready to give up and take this poor girl to the homeless shelter, she recognized the area we were in and had us drop her off at her stepmother’s home.

Hopefully, we were where we were supposed to be for a reason. I hope that we were able to provide some comfort and lessen some of the pain of this life lesson.