for Mattie Stepanek: 'The most extraordinary person whom I have ever known in my life is Mattie Stepanek' by Jimmy Carter - 2004

22 June 2004, Gate of Heaven Cemetery, Silver Spring, Maryland, USA

Mattie Stepanek was a sufferer of MDA who died at just thirteen years of age. He wrote poetry and was a peace ambassador. His three older siblings died from dysautonomic mitochondrial myopathy, too. His mother was only diagnosed with mitochondrial disease after her four children were born. There is no available audio or video of this speech.

When I was running for governor a number of years ago, my wife and I didn’t have much money so we traveled around the state and we estimated later that we shook hands personally with 600,000 people.

Later I ran for president, as some of you may remember, and campaigned in all 50 states. Subsequently, I traveled around the world. In fact, since I left the White House, my wife and I have been to more than 120 nations. And we have known kings and queens, and we’ve known presidents and prime ministers, but the most extraordinary person whom I have ever known in my life is Mattie Stepanek.

I didn’t know Mattie until about three years ago when Make-A-Wish Foundation sent me a letter and said there was a little boy who only had a few more days to live and his final request was to meet Jimmy Carter. I was surprised and honored and within a few days, as a matter of fact, the Good Morning America program arranged for Mattie to be interviewed and for me to come there as a surprise to meet with him. He later told his mother, Jeni, that when I walked in the room he thought it was a presidential impersonator. And later, when it proved to be me, he told Jeni, and Jeni told me, that that was the first time in his life, and maybe the only time, when Mattie was speechless. But we exchanged greetings and formed, I would say, an instantaneous bond of love.

The next morning back home, Mattie woke up and he told Jeni what a wonderful time he had had. He had been dreaming, but he was so proud that he had met Jimmy Carter. And Jeni, often teasing Mattie, said, “Mattie, you must have been dreaming. You haven’t actually met Jimmy Carter,” and Mattie burst into tears and Jeni very quickly reassured him that we had actually had a personal meeting.

That meeting and our subsequent relationship have literally changed my life for the better. Mattie said that day that I had been his hero for a long time and I was sure that he was just joking and he could tell on the ABC program that I didn’t really quite believe him. And so to prove that, he sent me a video, a 20-minute-long video that he had made when he was 6-years-old, explaining the life of Jimmy Carter. And for the different segments in the video, he dressed appropriately.

So, it started out I was a little farm boy and Mattie had on ragged clothes and he spoke with what Rose (Rosalynn) and I thought was an atrocious Southern accent. And then later I was a naval officer and then later I came back to be a farmer and then ultimately was president, so he changed clothes every time. And then while I was president, he gave an appeal to human rights and peace and things of that kind and while the camera was on him, he realized later, his toes kept wiggling, he was barefoot, so for a long time he apologized to me that he should have done that segment over and at least put on shoes to be president.

He sent me another video, which I would like for all of you to try to see. It’s a video of his competition as a black belt in martial arts for the ultimate prize in that intense and demanding sport. It was incredible to see the agility of that young boy and the strength in his body.

Mattie and I began to correspond. After his death, Jeni gave me the honor of letting me come and do this speech. I had my secretary get out our correspondence. It’s that thick, on every possible subject. He was always in some degree of anguish, and I think embarrassment, when his books on the New York Times list were always above mine. And he would sympathize with me and say, “Well, you know maybe poetry just has less competition than what you are writing about.” But he was very sensitive to my feelings. We also were close enough for Mattie to share some of his problems with me in his private messages. He talked about when he and Jeni were not well off and some local churches, I’m sure not the one represented here this morning, would take up a food collection and send it to them. Mattie used to examine the labels on the food and quite often he said he would find that the date had expired and that people were giving poor people inferior food that they didn’t want to use themselves. And Mattie said, “If my books make a lot of money, we’re going to get food that’s brand new and make sure that poor people get the best food, even if we have to eat the old, outdated food in our house.”

He was very proud of the fact that he and his mother could move into a place that had windows.

I’ve thought a lot about Mattie’s religious faith. It’s all-encompassing, to include all human beings who believe in peace and justice and humility and service and compassion and love. The exact characteristics of our Savior Jesus Christ. He was still a boy, although he had the mind and the consciousness and the awareness of global affairs of a mature, philosophical adult.

One of his prime goals in life was to see the movie “Return of the King” seven times and I hope he was able to accomplish his goal. I’m not quite sure. But that was the kind of thing that he had as his ambitions.

He was as proud as I was when I won the Nobel Peace Prize, which has already been mentioned. As soon as the ceremony was over at the hall in Oslo, I went by myself to the top of a little hill right behind the place and I found a rock and I inscribed on it and I sent it to Mattie, because I felt that he shared the honor that I had received.

The last few days, I have been re-reading some of Mattie’s statements that he wrote to me, I’ve re-read the correspondence. One thing he said was, “I choose to live until death, not spend the time dying until death occurs.”

Jeni told me about one occasion when Mattie was supposed to be a main part of the program which he helped prepare to raise funds for muscular dystrophy, but when the time approached he was in the intensive care unit. They announced at first that Mattie could not attend the event that meant so much to him, in which he had helped in its preparation. He insisted on coming. When he got there and began to say his lines, he announced, “I’m out of breath. I can’t speak.” Mattie loved to dress up and to wear fancy clothes and his favorite kind of clothes, as some of you may surmise, was a tuxedo. So Jeni and Mattie arranged for him to put on a tuxedo and he said, “When I have a tuxedo on, I can talk.” So he went back with his tuxedo.

Mattie said he wanted to be, as an ultimate goal in his life, an ambassador of humanity and a daddy. Mattie had already named his first seven children and had even given personal idiosyncrasies and characteristics to the first four. He wanted to leave a human legacy and family descendants, but Mattie’s legacy, obviously, is much greater than that.

As has already been quoted, he said, “I want to be a poet, a peacemaker and a philosopher who played.” Mattie was deeply aware of international affairs and shared a lot of his thoughts with me. He was once again in the intensive care unit when the war in Iraq began and Mattie burst into uncontrollable sobs of grief and anger. Jeni said he had never cried nearly so much about his own health or his own problems.

He wrote me right after that and I will quote exactly what he said: “Dear Jimmy, I am hurting about the war and I cried last night when I saw the attack on Iraq. I am not trying to be disrespectful, but I feel like President Bush made a decision long ago that he was going to have this war. Imagine if he had spent as much time and energy considering the possibility of peace as he has convincing others of the inevitability of war. We’d be at a different point in history today.”

Mattie was obviously extremely idealistic, but not completely idealistic. He also wrote me in a subsequent letter, “I know that I should be peaceful with everyone, but it’s also not smart,” he said, “to put yourself in a dangerous situation. Like even though I would want to talk to Osama bin Laden about peace in the future, I wouldn’t want to be alone with him in his cave.” In the same letter he asked me if I would join him not just in that meeting, but in writing a book that Mattie wanted to call, and had already named, “Just Peace.”

In an incredible way for a child his age, he analyzed the semantics of the word “just.” The title was “Just Peace” and he said “just” had so many connotations that he thought that was the best word to put before “peace.” He said “just” could be a minimal expectation, just peace, nothing else. It could mean just peace and peace as a paramount commitment, above everything else. And it could mean a peace that was exemplified by justice.

I spent seven years earlier in my life writing a book of poems about which Mattie was graciously complimentary. Poetry seemed to flow out of Mattie, kind of like an automatic stream, directed by inspiration through Mattie’s hands for the enjoyment of hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people. I want to read just a few of them with which many of you are familiar, because he combined humor with serious thoughts. All of them I would say are unique, surprising when you read them.

One of them is titled “About Angels” and he honored me by letting me write the foreword to this book, called “Journey Through Heartsongs.”

About Angels
Do you know what angels wear?
They wear
Angel-halos and Angel-wings, and
Angel-dresses and Angel-shirts under them, and
Angel-underwear and Angel-shoes and Angel-socks, and
On their heads
They wear
Angel-hair –
Except if they don’t have any hair.
Some children and grownups
Don’t have any hair because they
Have to take medicine that makes it fall out.
And sometimes,
The medicine makes them all better.
And sometimes,
The medicine doesn’t make them all better,
And they die.
And they don’t have any Angel-hair.
So do you know what God does then?
He gives them an
Angel-wig.
And that’s what Angels wear.

I like them all, but there’s another I would like to read.

Heavenly Greeting
Dear God,
For a long time,
I have wondered about
How You will meet me
When I die and come to
Live with You in Heaven.
I know You reach out
Your hand to welcome
Your people into Your home,
But I never knew if You
Reached out Your right hand,
Or if You
Reached out Your left hand.
But now I don’t have to
Wonder about that anymore.
I asked my mommy and
She told me that You
Reach out both of Your hands,
And welcome us with
A great big giant hug.
Wow!
I can’t wait for my hug, God.
Thank you,
And Amen.

And another one that he wrote:

I Could…If They Would
If they would find a cure when I’m a kid…
I could ride a bike and sail on rollerblades, and
I could go on really long nature hikes.
If they would find a cure when I’m a teenager…
I could earn my license and drive a car, and
I could dance every dance at my senior prom.
If they would find a cure when I’m a young adult…
I could travel around the world and teach peace, and
I could marry and have children of my own.
If they would find a cure when I’m grown old…
I could visit exotic places and appreciate culture, and
I could proudly share pictures of my grandchildren.
If they would find a cure when I’m alive…
I could live each day without pain and machines, and
I could celebrate the biggest thank you of life ever.
If they would find a cure when I’m buried into Heaven…
I could still celebrate with my brothers and sister there, and
I could still be happy knowing that I was part of the effort.

And the last poem I will read is titled:

When I Die (Part II)
When I die, I want to be
A child in Heaven.
I want to be
A ten-year-old cherub.
I want to be
A hero in Heaven,
And a peacemaker,
Just like my goal on earth.
I will ask God if I can
Help the people in purgatory.
I will help them think,
About their life,
About their spirits,
About their future.
I will help them
Hear their own Heartsongs again,
So they can finally
See the face of God,
So soon.
When I die,
I want to be,
Just like I want to be
Here on earth.

Well, it’s hard to know anyone who has suffered more than Mattie. Sandy sent us almost daily reports about his bleeding, internally and from his fingers. I doubt that anyone in this great auditorium has ever suffered so much except his mother Jeni, and our Savior Jesus Christ, who is also here with us today. I always saw the dichotomy between Mattie as a child and with the characteristics and intelligence and awareness of an adult. Just as we see the dichotomy of Jesus Christ who was fully a human being at the same time as truly God.

I would say that my final assessment is that Mattie was an angel. Someone said that to him once and he said, “No, no.” He was very modest. But really in the New Testament language, angel and messenger are the same and there’s no doubt that Mattie was an angel of God, a messenger of God.

He was concerned about his legacy, wanting to have seven children and talking about his grandchildren, but Mattie’s legacy is forever because his Heartsongs will resonate in the hearts of people forever. I thank God that he is no longer suffering and that he’s with the Prince of Peace, getting big hugs in Heaven and maybe wearing a tuxedo.

To learn more about Mattie's legacy, please visit MDA's website at http://mda.org/about/bio/mattie-jt-st... and The Mattie J.T. Stepanek Foundation website at http://www.mattieonline.com.

For Coretta Scott King: 'Born of flesh and destined to become iron', by Maya Angelou - 2006

7 February 2006, New Birth Missionary Baptist Church, Atlanta, Georgia

(Singing: "I open my mouth to the Lord and I won't turn back, no. I will go, I shall go. I'll see what the end is gonna be.")

In the midst of national tumult, in the medium of international violent uproar, Coretta Scott King's face remained a study in serenity. In times of interior violent storms she sat, her hands resting in her lap calmly, like good children sleeping.

Her passion was never spent in public display. She offered her industry and her energies to action, toward righting ancient and current wrongs in this world.

She believed religiously in non-violent protest.

She believed it could heal a nation mired in a history of slavery and all its excesses.

She believed non-violent protest religiously could lift up a nation rife with racial prejudices and racial bias.

She was a quintessential African-American woman, born in the small town repressive South, born of flesh and destined to become iron, born -- born a cornflower and destined to become a steel magnolia.

She loved her church fervently. She loved and adored her husband and her children. She cherished her race. She cherished women. She cared for the conditions of human beings, of native Americans and Latin -- Latinos and Asian Americans. She cared for gay and straight people. She was concerned for the struggles in Ireland, and she prayed for nightly for Palestine and equally for Israel.

I speak as a -- a sister of a sister. Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated on my birthday. And for over 30 years, Coretta Scott King and I have telephoned, or sent cards to each other, or flowers to each other, or met each other somewhere in the world.

We called ourselves "chosen sisters" and when we traveled to South Africa or to the Caribbean or when she came to visit me in North Carolina or in New York, we sat into the late evening hours, calling each other "girl." It's a black woman thing, you know. And even as we reached well into our 70th decade, we still said "girl."

I stand here today for her family -- which is my family -- and for my family and all the other families in the world who would want to be here, but could not be here. I have beside me up here millions of people who are living and standing straight and erect, and knowing something about dignity without being cold and aloof, knowing something about being contained without being unapproachable -- people who have learned something from Coretta Scott King.

I stand here for Eleanor Traylor and for Harry Belafonte, and I stand here for Winnie Mandela. I stand here for women and men who loved her -- [Constancia] "Dinky" Romilly. On those late nights when Coretta and I would talk, I would make her laugh. And she said that Martin King used to tell her, "You don't laugh enough." And there's a recent book out about sisters in which she spoke about her blood sister. But at the end of her essay, she said, I did have -- "I do have a chosen sister, Maya Angelou, who makes me laugh even when I don't want to." And it's true. I told her some jokes only for no-mixed company.

Many times on those late after -- evenings she would say to me, "Sister, it shouldn't be an 'either-or', should it? Peace and justice should belong to all people, everywhere, all the time. Isn't that right?" And I said then and I say now, "Coretta Scott King, you're absolutely right. I do believe that peace and justice should belong to every person, everywhere, all the time."

And those of us who gather here, principalities, presidents, senators, those of us who run great companies, who know something about being parents, who know something about being preachers and teachers -- those of us, we owe something from this minute on; so that this gathering is not just another footnote on the pages of history. We owe something.

I pledge to you, my sister, I will never cease.

I mean to say I want to see a better world.

I mean to say I want to see some peace somewhere.

I mean to say I want to see some honesty, some fair play.

I want to see kindness and justice. This is what I want to see and I want to see it through my eyes and through your eyes, Coretta Scott King.

[Sings: "I open my mouth to the Lord and I won't turn back, no. I will go, I shall go. I'll see what the end is gonna be."]

Thank you.

Preeminent MLK historian Dr Clayborne Carson, the man chosen by Coretta Scott King as the founding director of the Dr Martin Luther King Centre for Education and Research, spoke about Coretta’s life in this episode of the podcast.

For Maya Angelou: 'She spoke to the essence of black women', by Michelle Obama - 2014

June 7, 2014, Wake Forest University's Wait Chapel, North Carolina, USA

To the family — Guy, to all of you — to the friends, President Clinton, Oprah, my mother Cicely Tyson, Ambassador Young — let me just share something with you: My mother, Marian Robinson, never cares about anything I do. But when Dr. Maya Angelou passed, she said, “You’re going, aren’t you?” I said, “Well, Mom, I’m not really sure, I have to check with my schedule’ she said “You are going. Right?” I said “Well, I’m gonna get back to you, I have to check with the people, figure it out.” I came back and said that I was scheduled to go and she said “That’s good. Now I’m happy.”

It is such a profound honor — truly a proud honor — to be here today on behalf of myself and my husband as we celebrate one of the greatest spirits our world has ever known, our dear friend Dr. Maya Angelou. In the Book of Psalms it reads, “I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are your works, my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.”

What a perfect description of Maya Angelou and the gift she gave to her family and all who loved her. She taught us that we are each wonderfully made, intricately woven and put on this earth for purpose far greater than we could ever imagine.

When I think of Maya Angelou I think of the affirming power of her words. The first time I read “Phenomenal Woman” I was struck by how she celebrated black women’s beauty like no one had ever dared to before. Our curves, our stride, our strength, our grace. Her words were clever, and sassy. They were powerful and sexual and boastful. And in that one singular poem, Maya Angelou spoke to the essence of black women but she also graced us with an anthem for all women, a call for all of us to embrace our God-given beauty.

And oh, how desperately black girls needed that message. As a young woman I needed that message. As a child, my first doll was Malibu Barbie — that was the standard for perfection. That was what the world told me to aspire to.

But then I discovered Maya Angelou, and her words lifted me right out of my own little head. Her message was very simple: She told us that our worth had nothing to do with what the world might say. Instead she said, “Each of us comes form the creator trailing wisps of glory.” She reminded us that we must each find our own voice, decide our own value, and then announce it to the world with all the pride and joy that is our birthright as members of the human race.

Dr. Angelou’s words sustained me on every step of my journey. Through lonely moments in ivy-covered classrooms and colorless skyscrapers. Through blissful moments mothering two splendid baby girls. Through long years on the campaign trail where at times my very womanhood was dissected and questioned. For me, that was the power of Maya Angelou’s words — words so powerful that they carried a little black girl from the South Side of Chicago all the way to the White House.

And today as First Lady whenever the term “authentic” is used to describe me I take it as a tremendous compliment because I know that I am following in the footsteps of great women like Maya Angelou. But really, I am just a beginner. I am baby authentic.

Maya Angelou, now she was the original. She was the master. For at a time when there were such stifling constraints on how black women could exist in the world, she serenely disregarded all the rules with fiercely passionate unapologetic self. She was comfortable in every inch of her gloriously brown skin.

But for Dr. Angelou her own transition was never enough. You see, she didn’t just want to be phenomenal herself. She wanted us all to be phenomenal right alongside her.

So that’s what she did throughout her lifetime. She gathered so many of us under her wing. I wish I was a daughter. But I was right under that wing — sharing her wisdom, her genius and her boundless love.

I first came into her presence in 2008, when she spoke at a campaign rally here in North Carolina. At that point she was in a wheelchair, hooked up to an oxygen tank to help her breathe. But let me tell you, she rolled up like she owned the place. She took the stage as she always did — like she’d been born there. And I was so completely awed and overwhelmed by her presence I could barely concentrate on what she was saying to me.

But while I don’t remember her exact words I do remember exactly how she made me feel.

She made me feel like I owned the place, too. She made me feel like I had been born on that stage right next to her. And I remember thinking to myself, “Maya Angelou knows who I am! And she is rooting for me! So now, I’m good. I can do this. I can do this.”

And that’s really true for us all. Because in so many ways Maya Angelou knew us. She knew our hope, our pain, our ambition, our fear, our anger, our shame. And she assured us that in spite of it all — in fact, because of it all — we were good. And in doing so, she paved the way for me, and Oprah and so many others just to be our good ol’ black women selves. She showed us that eventually, if we stayed true to who we are, then the world would embrace us.

And she did this not just for black women but for all women. For all human beings. She taught us all that it is okay to be your regular old self, whatever that is. Your poor self, your broken self, your brilliant, bold, phenomenal self. That was Maya Angelou’s reach.

She touched me, she touched you, she touched all of you she touched people all across the globe — including a young white woman from Kansas who named her daughter after Maya and raised her son to be the first black President of the United States.

So when I heard that Dr. Angelou had passed, I felt a deep sense of loss. I also felt a profound sense of peace — because there is no question that Maya Angelou will always be with us. Because there was something truly divine about Maya. I know that now as always, she is right where she belongs.

May her memory be a blessing to us all.

Thank you. God bless.

This is the poem Michelle Obama refers to. From poetryfoundation.org

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,   
The stride of my step,   
The curl of my lips.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,   
That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,   
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.   
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.   
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,   
And the flash of my teeth,   
The swing in my waist,   
And the joy in my feet.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered   
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,   
They say they still can’t see.   
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,   
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.   
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.   
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,   
The bend of my hair,   
the palm of my hand,   
The need for my care.   
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.