[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 163 (2017), Part 6]
[House]
[Page 8246]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                 EXPRESSING GRATITUDE AND APPRECIATION

  The SPEAKER pro tempore. The Chair recognizes the gentleman from 
Texas (Mr. Al Green) for 5 minutes.
  Mr. AL GREEN of Texas. Mr. Speaker, I rise to express gratitude and 
appreciation to the many who have called. I rise to thank people for 
the kindness that they have shown. I rise to express my most deepest 
heartfelt appreciation for those who have had the courage to stand up 
to hatred, to stand up to bigotry. I rise, Mr. Speaker, to say thank 
you.
  I want to especially thank those who are in leadership. I especially 
want to thank two persons: Representative Clyburn and Representative 
Bennie Thompson. They both called me to express concern and to give me 
advice as to how to proceed.
  For those who may not know, some very ugly things have been said, but 
they are not in any way comparable to the many kind words that have 
been expressed.
  So thank you to all on behalf of my staff, many of whom are young 
people who are having this as their first experience with Congress. 
Thank you on their behalf.
  Mr. Speaker, I also want to explain why some of these ugly things are 
occurring, and the best way to do it, in my opinion, would be to use 
the words of J. Patrick Kinney. J. Patrick Kinney has written a poem 
styled ``The Cold Within,'' and this poem speaks to the extreme 
cupidity in our world--not stupidity, cupidity. It speaks to the 
extreme religiosity. It speaks to the extreme prejudice that some have 
to endure. It speaks to the extreme wealth and the abuse of it.
  J. Patrick Kinney talks about a cold night, possibly the coldest 
night ever on the planet Earth. These are his words:

     Six humans trapped by happenstance
     In bleak and bitter cold.
     Each one possessed a stick of wood
     Or so the story is told.
     Their dying fire in need of logs
     The first man held his back
     For of the faces 'round the fire
     He noticed one was Black.
     The next man looking 'cross the way
     Saw one not of his church
     And he couldn't bring himself to give
     The fire his stick of birch.
     The third one sat in tattered clothes.
     He gave his coat a hitch.
     Why should his stick be put to use
     To warm the idle rich?
     The rich man just sat back and thought
     Of the wealth he had in store
     And how to keep what he had earned
     From the lazy shiftless poor.
     The Black man's face bespoke revenge
     As the fire passed from his sight.
     For all he saw in his stick of wood
     Was a chance to spite the White.
     The last man of this forlorn group
     Did nought except for gain.
     Giving only to those who gave
     Was how he played the game.
     Their logs held tight in death's still hands
     Was proof of human sin.
     They didn't die from the cold without
     They died from the cold within.

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