Comment From Kaleokualoha; On Calendar Documents

Here is the link to Obama's "Unfit for Publication": http://obama.3cdn.net/a74586f9067028c40a_5km6vrqwa.pdfHere is the extract:[QUOTE]LIE: “But the key role Frank Marshall Davis plays in the autobiography is not to provide Obama with words from his poems as a voice for Obama’s black rage. Instead Davis is the mentor Obama seeks for wisdom and advice, for instance when he has a crisis with his grandmother that was so traumatic Obama still mentions it today.” [p 87]REALITY: OBAMA MEMOIR CHARACTERIZED FRANK DAVIS MARSHALL AS A FIGURE FROM HIS YOUTH WHO “FELL SHORT” AND WHOSE VIEW OF RACE WAS “INCURABLE”Obama Wrote Of Frank As Someone Who “Fell Short” Of The “Lofty Standards” Of “Martin And Malcolm, Dubois And Mandela.” “Yes, I’d seen weakness in other men—Gramps and his disappointments, Lolo and his compromise. But these men had become object lessons for me, men I might love but never emulate, white men and brown men whose fates didn’t speak to my own. It was into my father’s image, the black man, son of Africa, that I’d packed all the attributes I sought in myself, the attributes of Martin and Malcolm, DuBois and Mandela. And if later I saw that the black men I knew— Frank or Ray or Will or Rafiq— fell short of such lofty standards; if I had learned to respect these men for the struggles they went through, recognizing them as my own—my father’s voice had nevertheless remained untainted, inspiring, rebuking, granting or withholding approval. You do not work hard enough, Barry. You must help in your people’s struggle. Wake up, black man!” [Dreams From My Father, Pg. 96]Obama Wrote That “The relationship between black and white, the meaning of escape, would never be quite the same for me as ithad been for Frank, or for the Old Man, or even for Roy.” [Dreams From My Father, Pg. 277]Obama Recounted Frank’s Diatribe About What Would Happen To Him In College And Then Described Frank As “Incurable” And Living In The “Sixties Time Warp That Hawaii Had Created.” ““What had Frank called college? An advanced degree in compromise. I thought back to the last time I had seen the old poet, a few days before I left Hawaii. We had made small talk for a while; he complained about his feet, the corns and bone spurs that he insisted were a direct result of trying to force African feet into European shoes. Finally he had asked me what it was that I expected to get out of college. I told him I didn’t know. He shook his big, hoary head…’Leaving your race at the door,” he said. “Leaving your people behind.” He studied me over the top of his reading glasses. “Understand something, boy. You’re not going to college to get educated. You’re going there to get trained. They’ll train you to want what you don’t need. They’ll train you to manipulate words so they don’t mean anything anymore. They’ll train you to forget what it is that you already know. They’ll train you so good, you’ll start believing what they tell you about equal opportunity and the American way and all that shit. They’ll give you a corner office and invite you to fancy dinners, and tell you you’re a credit to your race. Until you want to actually start running things, and then they’ll yank on your chain and let you know that you may be a well-trained, well-paid nigger, but you’re a nigger just the same…It made me smile, thinking back on Frank and his old Black Power, dashiki self. In some ways he was as incurable as my mother, as certain in his faith, living in the same sixties time warp that Hawaii had created.” [Dreams From My Father, Pg. 96-97][END QUOTE]