for Heather Heyer: 'You never think you’re going to bury your child', by Susan Bro - 2017

16 August 2017, Charlottesville, Virginia, USA

Heather Heyer was run down by a neo Nazi at a rally in Charlottesville. Her death shocked the world. This is the eulogy delivered by her mother.

My child’s famous Facebook post was: "If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention." She paid attention. She made a lot of us pay attention. Oh, my gosh, dinner with her, we knew, was going to be an ordeal of listening. And conversation. And perhaps disagreement, but it was going to happen. And so, my husband would say, "OK, I’m going to go out in the car and play on my video game for a while." And we would sit and would grill. And she and I would talk, and I would listen. And we would negotiate, and I would listen.

And we talked about all this stuff. We talked about politics. We talked about anything that caught her eye that she felt was fair, unfair. She’d talk about her feelings about the office and how things were going. I mean, she just talked. The girl loved to talk. And she was single, so there was nobody to listen at home, so mama got a lot of it. And that was wonderful.

You never think you’re going to bury your child. You never think to take those pictures. They asked me for pictures for this, and I struggled. I had pictures from her childhood. But I had to go to Facebook to find pictures of my child, because we were always together. I saw her a couple times a month, at least, and we would text each other fairly often, and we would Facebook message at bedtime, "I love you," "I love you. You doing OK?" "Yeah, I love you." So I have no regrets on that part. Take pictures of the ones that you love, because you don’t know when they’re not going to be there.

But here’s what I want to say to you today. This could be a storm in a teacup, and it could all be for nothing. This could have—I could have said, "Let’s don’t do this publicly. Let’s have a small private funeral." But, you know, that’s not who Heather was. Anybody who knew Heather said, "Yeah, this is the way she had to go, big and large." Had to have the world involved, because that’s my child. She’s just that way. Always has been, and she will continue to be.

Because here’s the message. Although Heather was a caring and compassionate person, so are a lot of you. A lot of you go that extra mile. And I think the reason that what happened to Heather has struck a chord is because we know that what she did is achievable. We don’t all have to die. We don’t all have to sacrifice our lives. They tried to kill my child to shut her up. Well, guess what. You just magnified her.

Thank you. Thank you.

So, here’s what I want to happen. You ask me, "What can I do?" So many caring people, pages of pages of pages of stuff I’m going through. I’m reading pages of pages of pages how she’s touching the world. I want this to spread. I don’t want this to die. This is just the beginning of Heather’s legacy. This is not the end of Heather’s legacy.

You need to find in your heart that small spark of accountability. What is there that I can do to make the world a better place? What injustice do I see—and want to turn away: "I don’t really want to get involved in that. I don’t want to speak up. They’ll be annoyed with me. My boss might think less of me." I don’t care. You poke that finger at yourself, like Heather would have done, and you make it happen. You take that extra step. You find a way to make a difference in the world.

My child had a high school education. My child was no saint. She was hard to raise, because everything was a negotiation. Not kidding. But you know what? She was a firm believer in whatever she believed. And let’s do that. Let’s find that spark of conviction. Let’s find in ourselves that action. Let’s spread this. Let’s have the uncomfortable dialogue.

It ain’t easy sitting down and saying, "Well, why are you upset?" It ain’t easy sitting down and going, "Yeah, well, I think this way. And I don’t agree with you, but I’m going to respectfully listen to what you have to say. We’re not going to sit around and shake hands and go 'Kumbaya.' And I’m sorry, it’s not all about forgiveness. I know that that’s not a popular trend. But the truth is, we are going to have our differences. We are going to be angry with each other. But let’s channel that anger, not into hate, not into violence, not into fear, but let’s channel that difference, that anger, into righteous action."

Right now, down the road, there is a blood drive going on in Heather’s name. Right now, there are people who are here willing to listen to one another and talk to one another. Last night in New England, they had a peaceful rally in Heather’s name to have some difficult dialogues. If you ever want to see what one of those dialogues looks like, look at her Facebook post. I’m telling you, they were rough sometimes. But they were dialogues. And the conversations have to happen. That’s the only way we’re going to carry Heather’s spark through.

So, remember in your heart: If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention. And I want you to pay attention, find what’s wrong. Don’t ignore it. Don’t look the other way. You make it a point to look at it, and say to yourself, "What can I do to make a difference?" And that’s how you’re going to make my child’s death worthwhile. I’d rather have my child, but, by golly, if I got to give her up, we’re going to make it count.

Tony Walsh (Longfella): 'This is the place', Manchester bombing vigil - 2017

24 May 2017, Manchester, UK

This was a vigil in honour of the victim of the Manchester terrorist attack on 23rd May 2017 at Manchester Stadium.

It falls to me to sum up what makes this city, its people, its communities, so great, with a poem. It's called 'This is the Place'.

This is the place

In the north-west of England. It’s ace, it’s the best

And the songs that we sing from the stands, from our bands

Set the whole planet shaking.

Our inventions are legends. There’s nowt we can’t make, and so we make brilliant music

We make brilliant bands

We make goals that make souls leap from seats in the stands

And we make things from steel

And we make things from cotton

And we make people laugh, take the mick summat rotten

And we make you at home

And we make you feel welcome and we make summat happen

And we can’t seem to help it

And if you’re looking from history, then yeah we’ve a wealth

But the Manchester way is to make it yourself.

And make us a record, a new number one

And make us a brew while you’re up, love, go on

And make us feel proud that you’re winning the league

And make us sing louder and make us believe that this is the place that has helped shape the world

And this is the place where a Manchester girl named Emmeline Pankhurst from the streets of Moss Side led a suffragette city with sisterhood pride

And this is the place with appliance of science, we’re on it, atomic, we struck with defiance, and in the face of a challenge, we always stand tall, Mancunians, in union, delivered it all

Such as housing and libraries and health, education and unions and co-ops and first railway stations

So we’re sorry, bear with us, we invented commuters. But we hope you forgive us, we invented computers.

And this is the place Henry Rice strolled with rolls, and we’ve rocked and we’ve rolled with our own northern soul

And so this is the place to do business then dance, where go-getters and goal-setters know they’ve a chance

And this is the place where we first played as kids. And me mum, lived and died here, she loved it, she did.

And this is the place where our folks came to work, where they struggled in puddles, they hurt in the dirt and they built us a city, they built us these towns and they coughed on the cobbles to the deafening sound to the steaming machines and the screaming of slaves, they were scheming for greatness, they dreamed to their graves.

And they left us a spirit. They left us a vibe. That Mancunian way to survive and to thrive and to work and to build, to connect, and create and Greater Manchester’s greatness is keeping it great.

And so this is the place now with kids of our own. Some are born here, some drawn here, but they all call it home.

And they’ve covered the cobbles, but they’ll never defeat, all the dreamers and schemers who still teem through these streets.

Because this is a place that has been through some hard times: oppressions, recessions, depressions, and dark times.

But we keep fighting back with Greater Manchester spirit. Northern grit, Northern wit, and Greater Manchester’s lyrics.

And these hard times again, in these streets of our city, but we won’t take defeat and we don’t want your pity.

Because this is a place where we stand strong together, with a smile on our face, greater Manchester forever.

And we’ve got this place where a team with a dream can get funding and something to help with a scheme.

Because this is a place that understands your grand plans. We don’t do “no can do” we just stress “yes we can”

Forever Manchester’s a charity for people round here, you can fundraise, donate, you can be a volunteer. You can live local, give local, we can honestly say, we do charity different, that Mancunian way.

And we fund local kids, and we fund local teams. We support local dreamers to work for their dreams. We support local groups and the great work they do. So can you help us. help local people like you?

Because this is the place in our hearts, in our homes, because this is the place that’s a part of our bones.

Because Greater Manchester gives us such strength from the fact that this is the place, we should give something back.

Always remember, never forget, forever Manchester.

To read more poetry from Longfella, visit his website.

for Xavier Jugelé: 'I suffer without hatred', by Etienne Cardiles - 2017

Xavier, Thursday morning, as usual, I went to work and you were still asleep. We exchanged over the course of the day on our holiday project, in a country so far away that you had told me you were very impatient [because] you had never been this far. Visa details, our accommodations. These concerns invaded our messages with a frenzy all the more joyful as our airline tickets were booked since Tuesday.

You left for work at 2 o’clock in the orderly policeman’s outfit that you were so careful about because your presentation had to be irreproachable. Your comrades and you had the mission of joining the police station of the 8th arrondissement, where, as often, you had to ensure the safety of the public on this beautiful avenue, the Champs-Elysees. You had been designated a parking spot at 102 Avenue des Champs-Elysees, in front of the Cultural Institute of Turkey. This type of mission, I know, pleases you, because it was the Champs and the image of France, because it was also the culture you were protecting.

At that moment, the worst arrived for you and your comrades. One of those events that everyone dreads and hopes will never happen. You were swept away without knowing and for that I thank your good star. Your comrades were wounded, one of them seriously. They are recovering gradually and we are relieved. All were shocked.

I came home in the evening, without you, with extreme and profound grief, which may perhaps be calmed one day, I do not know. This pain made me feel closer than ever to your comrades who suffer, like you, silently; like me, silently.

And, as far as I am concerned, I suffer without hatred. I borrow this formula from Antoine Leiris [whose wife, Hélène Muyal-Leiris, was killed at the Bataclan on November 13, 2015] whose immense wisdom in the face of pain I have admired so much that I read and re-read his lines a few months ago. It is a lesson in life that has made me grow so much that it protects me today.

When the first messages were published informing Parisians that a serious event was taking place on the Champs-Elysees and a policeman had lost his life, a small voice told me that it was you, and I recalled this generous and healing formula: “You will not have my hatred.”

This hatred, Xavier, I do not have because it does not resemble you, because it does not correspond to anything that made your heat beat, or what made you a gendarme, then a guardian of peace. Because the general interest, the service of others and the protection of all were part of your education and your convictions, and that tolerance, dialogue and temperance were your best weapons. Because behind the policeman there was the man. You become a policeman or gendarme only by choice. The choice of helping others, protecting society, and fighting injustices. This noble mission, which the police and the gendarmerie ensure, and which are regularly undermined.

I, as a citizen, before I even knew you, I admired it already. This policing profession is the only one to which the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen refers. Article 12 states that “the guarantee of the rights of man and citizen requires a public force”, with useful precision in this politically important period: “This force is instituted for the benefit of all, And not for the particular utility of those to whom it is entrusted.” This was the vision we shared of this profession, but only one facet of the man you were.

The other facet of man was a world of culture and joy, where cinema and music played an important part. Five cinema sessions on a beautiful sunny August day did not scare you. And of course, the original versions were privileged for the purist you were and for that language, English, that you wanted to speak to perfection. You followed the concerts, sometimes following the artists on a complete tour. Céline Dion was your star, Zazie, Madonna or Britney Spears and so many others made our windows vibrate. The theater transported you and you lived it fully. No cultural experience made you back down. Even the worst of the films was seen the day of its release, to the end, whatever its quality. A life of joy and immense smiles in which love and tolerance reigned as undisputed masters. This life of stars, you leave it like a star.

I would like to tell all your comrades how close I am to them. I would like to tell your police hierarchy how much I have seen sincerity in your eyes and humanity in your gestures. …..

…I would like to say to all those who are struggling to prevent this from happening, that these events are happening, that I know their guilt and their sense of failure, and that they must continue to fight for peace. I would like to say to all those who have shown us their affection, to their parents and to me, that we have been deeply aware of it. I would like to tell your family that we are united. And to all those closest who have been so anxious about me, who have been so anxious about us, that they are magnificently worthy of you.

To you, I would like to tell you that you will stay in my heart forever. I love you. Let us all remain worthy and watch over the peace. And keep the peace.

transcript & video, full text

John Howard: 'As the sun sets over this beautiful island we gather here in sorrow', Bali Bombings Memorial Service - 2002

17 October, 2002, Australian Consulate, Bali, Indonesia

There is no available audio or video of this speech.

As the sun sets over this beautiful island we gather here in sorrow, in anguish, in disbelief and in pain.

There are no words that I can summon to salve in anyway the hurt and the suffering and the pain being felt by so many of my fellow countrymen and women and by so many of the citizens of other nations.

I can say though to my Australian countrymen and women that there are 19 and a half million Australians who are trying however inadequately to feel for you and to support you at this time of unbearable grief and pain.

The wanton, cruel and barbaric character of what occurred last Saturday night has shocked our nation to the core and now the anguish that so many are feeling, the painful process of identification which has prolonged that agony for so many, the sense of bewilderment and disbelief that so many young lives with so much before them should have been taken away in such blind fury, hatred and violence.

I can on behalf of all the people of Australia declare to you that we will do everything in our power to bring to justice those who were responsible for this foul deed.

We will work with our friends in Indonesia to do that and we will work to others to achieve an outcome of justice.

Can I say to our Balinese friends, the lovely people of Bali, who have been befriended over the decades, by the generations of so many Australians who have come here, we grieve for you, we feel for you, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the love and support you have extended to our fellow countrymen and women over these past days.

As the chaplain said there will be scars left on people for the rest of their life, both physical and emotional.

Our nation has been changed by this event.

Perhaps we may not be so carefree as we have been in the past but we will never lose our openness, our sense of adventure.

The young of Australia will always travel, they will always seek fun in different parts, they will always reach out to the young of other nations, they will always be open, fun-loving and decent men and women.

So as we grapple inadequately and in despair to try and comprehend what has happened, let us gather ourselves together, let us wrap our arms not only around our fellow Australians but our arms around the people of Indonesia, of Bali, let us wrap our arms around the people of other nations and the friends and relatives of the nationals of other countries who died in this horrible event.

It will take a long time for these foul deeds to be seen in any kind of context, they can never be understood, they can never be excused.

Australia has been affected very deeply but the Australian spirit has not been broken, the spirit remains strong and free and open and tolerant.

I know that is what all of those who lost their lives would have wanted and I know that is what those who grieve for them want.

Olklahoma Bombing Memorial: 'Our words seem small beside the loss you have endured', Bill Clinton - 1995

23 April, 1995, Olklahoma City, OK, USA

Thank you very much, Governor Keating and Mrs. Keating, Reverend Graham, to the families of those who have been lost and wounded, to the people of Oklahoma City, who have endured so much, and the people of this wonderful state, to all of you who are here as our fellow Americans.

I am honored to be here today to represent the American people. But I have to tell you that Hillary and I also come as parents, as husband and wife, as people who were your neighbors for some of the best years of our lives.

Today our nation joins with you in grief. We mourn with you. We share your hope against hope that some may still survive. We thank all those who have worked so heroically to save lives and to solve this crime -- those here in Oklahoma and those who are all across this great land, and many who left their own lives to come here to work hand in hand with you. We pledge to do all we can to help you heal the injured, to rebuild this city, and to bring to justice those who did this evil.

This terrible sin took the lives of our American family, innocent children in that building, only because their parents were trying to be good parents as well as good workers; citizens in the building going about their daily business; and many there who served the rest of us -- who worked to help the elderly and the disabled, who worked to support our farmers and our veterans, who worked to enforce our laws and to protect us. Let us say clearly, they served us well, and we are grateful.

But for so many of you they were also neighbors and friends. You saw them at church or the PTA meetings, at the civic clubs, at the ball park. You know them in ways that all the rest of America could not. And to all the members of the families here present who have suffered loss, though we share your grief, your pain is unimaginable, and we know that. We cannot undo it. That is God's work.

Our words seem small beside the loss you have endured. But I found a few I wanted to share today. I've received a lot of letters in these last terrible days. One stood out because it came from a young widow and a mother of three whose own husband was murdered with over 200 other Americans when Pan Am 103 was shot down. Here is what that woman said I should say to you today:

The anger you feel is valid, but you must not allow yourselves to be consumed by it. The hurt you feel must not be allowed to turn into hate, but instead into the search for justice. The loss you feel must not paralyze your own lives. Instead, you must try to pay tribute to your loved ones by continuing to do all the things they left undone, thus ensuring they did not die in vain.

Wise words from one who also knows.

You have lost too much, but you have not lost everything. And you have certainly not lost America, for we will stand with you for as many tomorrows as it takes.

If ever we needed evidence of that, I could only recall the words of Governor and Mrs. Keating:

If anybody thinks that Americans are mostly mean and selfish, they ought to come to Oklahoma. If anybody thinks Americans have lost the capacity for love and caring and courage, they ought to come to Oklahoma.

To all my fellow Americans beyond this hall, I say, one thing we owe those who have sacrificed is the duty to purge ourselves of the dark forces which gave rise to this evil. They are forces that threaten our common peace, our freedom, our way of life. Let us teach our children that the God of comfort is also the God of righteousness: Those who trouble their own house will inherit the wind.1 Justice will prevail.

Let us let our own children know that we will stand against the forces of fear. When there is talk of hatred, let us stand up and talk against it. When there is talk of violence, let us stand up and talk against it. In the face of death, let us honor life. As St. Paul admonished us, Let us "not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."2

Yesterday, Hillary and I had the privilege of speaking with some children of other federal employees -- children like those who were lost here. And one little girl said something we will never forget. She said, "We should all plant a tree in memory of the children." So this morning before we got on the plane to come here, at the White House, we planted that tree in honor of the children of Oklahoma. It was a dogwood with its wonderful spring flower and its deep, enduring roots. It embodies the lesson of the Psalms -- that the life of a good person is like a tree whose leaf does not wither.³

My fellow Americans, a tree takes a long time to grow, and wounds take a long time to heal. But we must begin. Those who are lost now belong to God. Some day we will be with them. But until that happens, their legacy must be our lives.

Thank you all, and God bless you.