Based on a true story.
She is a quiet little girl. Most second graders would be screaming with laughter or talking noisily with their friends on the bus. But this little girl sits quietly, her pretty blue eyes hidden behind dull round glasses that glare when the light hits them. Her long honey-blonde hair hangs limply around her face, and she lets it fall - to hide her face from anyone who might look.
It’s a quiet morning on the little school bus, and for that, she is grateful. Her normally lowered eyes and folded down shoulders perk a little bit, as she allows her head to raise hesitantly, and her eyes to dart quietly to the window beside her. The morning clouds are lit with what the girl considers to be peace itself. The only spoil of the spring morning are the dirty streets of Milwaukee and the dark gutters that collect the trash sweeping down-hill like the people who threw them. The bus driver is singing an off-pitched song the little girl doesn’t recognize, and doesn’t want to hear. She quietly reaches up under her hair, and turns down her hearing aid. She turns her focus instead to the gutters that she calls home; not yet old enough to be wondering if there isn’t something more to life. The girl begins to mentally name the street signs, the bill boards, and the stores as she passes them.
Jerry’s… Martin’s Martinizer… McDonalds…
A thought flashes into her head.
I wonder what today will be like.
She quickly looks down, feeling sudden distress at that thought, and focuses instead on the vibration of the bus under her feet, the cold sticky feel of the leather seat under her knees, anything but the fears she can’t face.
The driver was saying something. She was close enough to the front to see the two-day stubble on his chin. She could see the jaw moving, and his head moving to look back at her. His narrowed eyes caught her surprised ones, and she fumbled to turn her hearing-aid back up.
“-ing to Hartfield?”
The little girl nodded, even though she didn’t know what he said. She felt her hands beginning to shake like they always did when people talked to her. Her eyes darted down to look at them.
“Hey, kid!”, the man shouted over the engine as they approached a corner, “Kind of in a hurry here!”. She could see his impatient red eyes bugging at her from the rearview mirror, and she shrunk from them. Her eyes darted to look behind her - something she hadn’t bothered to do until now. She was alone.
He was shouting at her again, and she could tell he wasn’t wearing his seat belt, because he reached extra far to grab a cigarette. He was apparently ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign that was pasted next to the ‘Stay in Your Seat’ sign above him. She could see his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him over the engine of the bus.
He was approaching the corner swiftly, and he spoke forcefully, causing the girl’s eyes widened. She began to frantically examine her chewed nails, repeating the name of the street she knew they were on, thinking about Greg’s Jewels coming up on her right, anything but the man who was turning to look at her.
“Are you deaf? Do you go to Hartfield or Milwaukee?”
Her eyes shifted nervously toward him, and plastered themselves to the still morning beyond his window. She didn’t have time to reply. She could see it all as she stared out his window. Her eyes were wide, and her finger began to clench and unclench.
Hoosier street. Greg’s Jewels. Bus stop. Stop sign. Car. Stop. Her mind was frantically racing.
Car. Stop. Stop.
The bus hit. The sick crunch of metal was loud in the little girl’s ears. She just remembers the man’s surprise, the lurch of his neck as he flew forward. She heard shattering glass, and numbly saw the blue car in front of her spinning uncontrollably. She could see the terror stricken eyes of the gray-haired woman at the wheel. She could smell the burning rubber as the tires screeched. The stop-sign bended as it grated against the car.
To the little girl, it felt as though she wasn’t really there, but was merely observing everything that was happening. It seemed unreal - like a scene from a TV show that she could turn off at any moment. But then, the bus lurched again, and her head cracked against the seat in front of her, dragging her down into a scene that, with sharp pain and sudden darkness, became very real.
Tuesday Morning, the bus accident was featured on the fourth page of a small-town newspaper. The incident contained no deaths, and only involved the injury’s of a sixty-three year old grandmother on her way home from dropping off her grandkids at school, a despairing middle-aged bus driver who was to lose his third job of the year, and a little girl whose home was just as silent as her bus rides to school.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Sometimes you have to run
So Run
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Her breath surfaces in her ears,
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Kicking to be free of traditions’ womb.
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Feet, pound the cobblestones firmly into the street,
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As she runs.
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She roots her hand in her hair,
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And yanks the respective braid from it’s order,
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Like one would yank the drain from a full tub.
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Her name echoing through the silk morning air,
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Is a wrecking ball finding the hip of an old building.
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She runs faster,
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Feeling the pain in her own side,
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As though the wrecking ball is lodged there.
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Sleeping homes sit quietly,
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Watching her, the rabbit in white,
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Scatter from the Mr. McGregor’s of the world,
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While bathed in a dress,
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Much like Princess Diana’s,
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When the flashing smiles and camera’s of the world,
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Witnessed her “I do”.
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So gowned,
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And so broken,
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She fights.
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To flee.
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To breathe.
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Friday, March 28, 2008
What are politics in America? Really...
I'm tired of politics. There are three Presidential Candidates and each one is determined to prove they are the future President, and the other two are wanna-be-shmucks. That will persist until November - and even then all 3 will probably still be smarting from the spotlight of revealed secrets. We know they all have their closets. The question is, when discovered, which closet will alarm America the most? A man who often comes in every morning for a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese, on a Muffin breakfast sandwich, said it this way, "1 in 3 people are insane. If you look to the person on your left and the person on your right, and don't see an insane person, well..."
What pits cultures... races... religions... and practicers of the like against each other? I've often thought on this. We all choose sides in these political matters, and that makes enemies of those ignorant enough to disagree with us. Admitt it - you're no innocent.
Tonight my concern lies with Obama. I've read enough articles, and heard enough condemning, and surveyed enough random blogs - to know that this topic is still hot! But I want to put a different light on it. How do you say it -- I want to have my own personal little take on it.
I have had a sufficient amount of political debates in my little shop - especially in the boring hours when nobody seems to need food or coffee - and my job is to continually wipe down the counters. Amazingly, I have found that I can talk WHILE I wipe down counters! My abilites truly astound myself. So, a few of my customers have found themselves politely discussing topics with me until we have settled on a healthy level of disagreement and go on our merry ways. (Or they go, I stay and dispense Windex with gusto).
Anthony, one of the commenters on this blog, and one of my dear Sausage, Egg, no Cheese on a Croissant customers, brought down his laptop and played the entire controversial 911 sermon of Reverend Wright for me. It was startling to learn that one of the clips often played, is actually a cut of Wright quoting somebody else. Very interesting, Anthony. However if Wright had adamently disagreed with that quote, he would not have spent a good couple of minutes dramatically orating it to his congregation. The words had a powerful effect because he said them -- not because he was the first one to say them. However, Anthony set my mind on a deeper course. Wright had a lot of good to say -- it is no secret that the most believable lies are heavily mingled with truths. But those 'white America' statements have a lot behind them. They separate the culture of blacks from the culture of whites into two separate Americas. Not much unity there. Regardless I love America, because people like Wright have the right to speak freely and say what he believes. However, I love it even more because I don't have to agree with him. And I definitely don't agree with many of his statements.
The other day I was in the mood for an argument, so I mentioned the word politics to a nice African American lady over my spotless green counter. Somehow Obama came up, and before I knew it she was saying, "No! Obama went up in the polls after the Wright incident - not down! Clearly, you don't know what you're talking about. And what about Wright don't you agree with? He didn't say America was a 'bad' country. Yeah, he said 'God Damn America' - but that doesn't mean he said it was 'bad'. Jeeze - get it right. Hey, and I go to a church just like Obama. The Pastor happens to be my uncle - but that doesn't mean I have to stay and attend there. He says things I don't agree with, but overall he says alot of good things. And you can't say that I'm indoctrinated, now, can you?" Many VERY nice African Americans (whom I deepely respect) have defended that his statements are not so unusual, and that people need to step back, let him have his religion in peace, and Obama was right to have such a Pastor. But Obama cooked his own goose, in his March 14, 2008 statement. Here are some excerpts.
I reject outright the statements by Rev. Wright that are at issue.
...these particular statements by Rev. Wright are so contrary to my own life and beliefs...
The statements that Rev. Wright made that are the cause of this controversy were not statements I personally heard him preach while I sat in the pews of Trinity or heard him utter in private conversation.
When these statements first came to my attention, it was at the beginning of my presidential campaign. (Isn't this interesting, that after 20 years, it took him a Presidential Campaign for him to see how contrary Wrights' anti-white philosophies were to his own beliefs?)
All of the statements that have been the subject of controversy are ones that I vehemently condemn. They in no way reflect my attitudes and directly contradict my profound love for this country. (So, even Obama condemns 'all of the controversial statements'. I noticed that he didn't mention which ones were controversial.)
And while Rev. Wright's statements have pained and angered me, I believe that Americans will judge me not on the basis of what someone else said, but on the basis of who I am and what I believe in; on my values, judgment and experience to be President of the United States. (This made me laugh. It's pure manipulation on his part. He's trying to appeal to peoples' compassion. What experience? He of all candidates knows that his extent of expierience is nothing to brag about. What judgment? - clearly the choice of his Pastor was made in poor judgment. What values? He supports partial-birth abortion, he is for the destruction of the marriage amendment, he wants to raise taxes, he wants to be soft on Terror. What values? Where? Values in hope? In change? He is different, yes - but how is he not just another Politician at heart?)
And yet - that is only the half of it. I believe there is a far deeper element to this issue. One that puts a genuine rift between the blacks and whites.
I've often felt no difference between myself and my black, asian, filipino, and indian friends. We went to school together, we grew up together, and we laughed together. I've never thought about color - not even the pale white of my own skin. In my mind there has never been a superior race - only a colorful collage of our different colors, races, or culture origins. Blacks mingle with Mexicans and Whites. We are the melting pot of America. No matter what minority one is in race, religion, or politics - I have always believed in America to provide an equal opportunity to each individual.
That's why I am so disturbed by Reverend Wrights' words like 'God Damn America' and 'White America' and 'the government made a conspiracy against blacks in creating the HIV virus'. It's because, for once, I believe whites ARE hearing the voice of blacks. For once America is hearin gthe cry of an 'opressed' race. I understand this cry. I know I cannot experience what it is like to be ablack person, but I've tried to put my feet into the shoes of a little black girl. I grow up in a home with my mama and grandma. I don't have a Dad. At school, I feel like I'm not as good as some - I feel different cuz I'm a colored girl. But mama tells me I'm just as good and I can make something of myself. The first time a white girl called me a nigger, I ran home crying and it was grandmas arms that held me. She cried with me and told me of how we came to this country - how the white man had put us in chains and had bred us like animals to serve white America. We had no independance, no rights. We were told we were no better than the livestock. We weren't allowed to read or write - because whites' said we were too stupid.
My heart breaks to think of this little girl thinking about her great-great grandaddy being torn from his family, stripped of his rights, and mingled with the blood and pain of his color. Her little mind goes wild with terror, as she clutches her grandma's skirts and cries, "It's wrong! It's not right! Even the picture of Jesus is white! Why do they hate us?"
Her mama soothes her little girls' worries the minute she gets home from putting in a 13-hour shift. "Baby," she says, "We're just as good as them. Why, aren't you proud of your mama, working hard when aint nobody carin for her - aint no man to come home to or help her raise her child. Yes, being black is nothing to be ashamed of. After all, we rose above slavery and white mans' opression. We rose above the prejudices against our race. We were given the right to vote in '65. Yes, I am proud to be black, and you should be, too. Someday... Someday there will be no difference. There's hope. I know it. You work hard enough, baby, people will still look down on you for your color, but you show 'em. You can show 'em you're just as good, if not better. There's nothing wrong with you or me. Being black is nothin to be ashamed of. It's something to make you proud."
I can imagine that little girl growing up, looking a bit suspiciously at her white classmates, but otherwise working hard both educationally and socially to prove she has just as much potential as any other white person. Most of all, she wants to make her community proud.
When she first hears Obama, her throat catches as she hears his story - how he struggled agaisnt the impossibility to succeed, but then he says he can still suceed. He can become President, Yes He Can. And the young girls' heart swells with pride and she rises to her feet among the crowds of whistling supporters and parading cheers. She screams with the throngs, "Yes, We Can! Yes, We Can! Yes, We Can!"
Later, even after Obama's speech has died down, her heart is still wild with excitement - that surge of hope for her people, for her declining culture, fo rherself. She has never felt more inspired and so in awe cefore. There stands a black man at a podim lined with TV mikes, and HE is being listened to. HE is being cheered. HE is being voted for. To this young, maturing girl - Obama represents all the good in her culture, all the respect long over-due blacks, the first swell of pride in America...just for listening.
What pits cultures... races... religions... and practicers of the like against each other? I've often thought on this. We all choose sides in these political matters, and that makes enemies of those ignorant enough to disagree with us. Admitt it - you're no innocent.
Tonight my concern lies with Obama. I've read enough articles, and heard enough condemning, and surveyed enough random blogs - to know that this topic is still hot! But I want to put a different light on it. How do you say it -- I want to have my own personal little take on it.
I have had a sufficient amount of political debates in my little shop - especially in the boring hours when nobody seems to need food or coffee - and my job is to continually wipe down the counters. Amazingly, I have found that I can talk WHILE I wipe down counters! My abilites truly astound myself. So, a few of my customers have found themselves politely discussing topics with me until we have settled on a healthy level of disagreement and go on our merry ways. (Or they go, I stay and dispense Windex with gusto).
Anthony, one of the commenters on this blog, and one of my dear Sausage, Egg, no Cheese on a Croissant customers, brought down his laptop and played the entire controversial 911 sermon of Reverend Wright for me. It was startling to learn that one of the clips often played, is actually a cut of Wright quoting somebody else. Very interesting, Anthony. However if Wright had adamently disagreed with that quote, he would not have spent a good couple of minutes dramatically orating it to his congregation. The words had a powerful effect because he said them -- not because he was the first one to say them. However, Anthony set my mind on a deeper course. Wright had a lot of good to say -- it is no secret that the most believable lies are heavily mingled with truths. But those 'white America' statements have a lot behind them. They separate the culture of blacks from the culture of whites into two separate Americas. Not much unity there. Regardless I love America, because people like Wright have the right to speak freely and say what he believes. However, I love it even more because I don't have to agree with him. And I definitely don't agree with many of his statements.
The other day I was in the mood for an argument, so I mentioned the word politics to a nice African American lady over my spotless green counter. Somehow Obama came up, and before I knew it she was saying, "No! Obama went up in the polls after the Wright incident - not down! Clearly, you don't know what you're talking about. And what about Wright don't you agree with? He didn't say America was a 'bad' country. Yeah, he said 'God Damn America' - but that doesn't mean he said it was 'bad'. Jeeze - get it right. Hey, and I go to a church just like Obama. The Pastor happens to be my uncle - but that doesn't mean I have to stay and attend there. He says things I don't agree with, but overall he says alot of good things. And you can't say that I'm indoctrinated, now, can you?" Many VERY nice African Americans (whom I deepely respect) have defended that his statements are not so unusual, and that people need to step back, let him have his religion in peace, and Obama was right to have such a Pastor. But Obama cooked his own goose, in his March 14, 2008 statement. Here are some excerpts.
I reject outright the statements by Rev. Wright that are at issue.
...these particular statements by Rev. Wright are so contrary to my own life and beliefs...
The statements that Rev. Wright made that are the cause of this controversy were not statements I personally heard him preach while I sat in the pews of Trinity or heard him utter in private conversation.
When these statements first came to my attention, it was at the beginning of my presidential campaign. (Isn't this interesting, that after 20 years, it took him a Presidential Campaign for him to see how contrary Wrights' anti-white philosophies were to his own beliefs?)
All of the statements that have been the subject of controversy are ones that I vehemently condemn. They in no way reflect my attitudes and directly contradict my profound love for this country. (So, even Obama condemns 'all of the controversial statements'. I noticed that he didn't mention which ones were controversial.)
And while Rev. Wright's statements have pained and angered me, I believe that Americans will judge me not on the basis of what someone else said, but on the basis of who I am and what I believe in; on my values, judgment and experience to be President of the United States. (This made me laugh. It's pure manipulation on his part. He's trying to appeal to peoples' compassion. What experience? He of all candidates knows that his extent of expierience is nothing to brag about. What judgment? - clearly the choice of his Pastor was made in poor judgment. What values? He supports partial-birth abortion, he is for the destruction of the marriage amendment, he wants to raise taxes, he wants to be soft on Terror. What values? Where? Values in hope? In change? He is different, yes - but how is he not just another Politician at heart?)
And yet - that is only the half of it. I believe there is a far deeper element to this issue. One that puts a genuine rift between the blacks and whites.
I've often felt no difference between myself and my black, asian, filipino, and indian friends. We went to school together, we grew up together, and we laughed together. I've never thought about color - not even the pale white of my own skin. In my mind there has never been a superior race - only a colorful collage of our different colors, races, or culture origins. Blacks mingle with Mexicans and Whites. We are the melting pot of America. No matter what minority one is in race, religion, or politics - I have always believed in America to provide an equal opportunity to each individual.
That's why I am so disturbed by Reverend Wrights' words like 'God Damn America' and 'White America' and 'the government made a conspiracy against blacks in creating the HIV virus'. It's because, for once, I believe whites ARE hearing the voice of blacks. For once America is hearin gthe cry of an 'opressed' race. I understand this cry. I know I cannot experience what it is like to be ablack person, but I've tried to put my feet into the shoes of a little black girl. I grow up in a home with my mama and grandma. I don't have a Dad. At school, I feel like I'm not as good as some - I feel different cuz I'm a colored girl. But mama tells me I'm just as good and I can make something of myself. The first time a white girl called me a nigger, I ran home crying and it was grandmas arms that held me. She cried with me and told me of how we came to this country - how the white man had put us in chains and had bred us like animals to serve white America. We had no independance, no rights. We were told we were no better than the livestock. We weren't allowed to read or write - because whites' said we were too stupid.
My heart breaks to think of this little girl thinking about her great-great grandaddy being torn from his family, stripped of his rights, and mingled with the blood and pain of his color. Her little mind goes wild with terror, as she clutches her grandma's skirts and cries, "It's wrong! It's not right! Even the picture of Jesus is white! Why do they hate us?"
Her mama soothes her little girls' worries the minute she gets home from putting in a 13-hour shift. "Baby," she says, "We're just as good as them. Why, aren't you proud of your mama, working hard when aint nobody carin for her - aint no man to come home to or help her raise her child. Yes, being black is nothing to be ashamed of. After all, we rose above slavery and white mans' opression. We rose above the prejudices against our race. We were given the right to vote in '65. Yes, I am proud to be black, and you should be, too. Someday... Someday there will be no difference. There's hope. I know it. You work hard enough, baby, people will still look down on you for your color, but you show 'em. You can show 'em you're just as good, if not better. There's nothing wrong with you or me. Being black is nothin to be ashamed of. It's something to make you proud."
I can imagine that little girl growing up, looking a bit suspiciously at her white classmates, but otherwise working hard both educationally and socially to prove she has just as much potential as any other white person. Most of all, she wants to make her community proud.
When she first hears Obama, her throat catches as she hears his story - how he struggled agaisnt the impossibility to succeed, but then he says he can still suceed. He can become President, Yes He Can. And the young girls' heart swells with pride and she rises to her feet among the crowds of whistling supporters and parading cheers. She screams with the throngs, "Yes, We Can! Yes, We Can! Yes, We Can!"
Later, even after Obama's speech has died down, her heart is still wild with excitement - that surge of hope for her people, for her declining culture, fo rherself. She has never felt more inspired and so in awe cefore. There stands a black man at a podim lined with TV mikes, and HE is being listened to. HE is being cheered. HE is being voted for. To this young, maturing girl - Obama represents all the good in her culture, all the respect long over-due blacks, the first swell of pride in America...just for listening.
I believe when the words of Reverend Wright came out, it was the horrified reaction of whites that annoyed blacks. After all, there are dozens of churches like Trinity all across the face of America. What is wrong with what the man is saying? And - why judge Obama just because he attended the church? The emotions such a girl would go through, would be huge; her overwhelming desire to see Obama succeed and her unbidden disgust for the whites making such a big deal over nothing.
The danger comes in this obvious rift between the black and white culture - not just with Reverend Wright - but in the distinct separatin of culture. (Generalization, prepare yourself.) Blacks tend into moral decline but spiritual awareness. Whites - into political and domesitc successes and decline in spiritual awareness. I don't like it. Not one bit. Blacks feel an urgency to defend Obama - after all, yeah 'God damn America' is right. America...white America... forced blacks into America by the blood-riddled chains of slavery. America...white America...has ignored 'us', 'we' the people long enough. America...white America...deserved 911 terrorist attacks, and America deserves it because they are seeped deep in wickedness - a wickedness which is exemplified in Roe vs. Wade in '73, in the senseless cruelty to Native Americans, the insensitive cruelty to blacks and other minorities, and the harsh Right-Wing cry against (illegal) Mexican immigrants.
Do you see no danger in that? I wish I could step out of body and absolve all race just to prove to you that I am unbiased based on my color here. I see danger, danger, danger.
All right. I want to ask some legitimate questions here. And the answers are up to the individual.
Do whites owe blacks something because their ancestors mistreaded blacks ancestors? Are whites the cause of the deterioration of the black culture?
I believe America is a great country. Yes, I am horrified and heart broken when I read the stories of innocents caught in slavery, and reservations, and unfair times. But that is the imperfect past of a great country. We must look ahead. Wicked men - regardless of race - can get a hold of this country and make wicked practices accepted and sophisticated. Such men operate selfishly - risking a tidal wave in the future melting pot. Slavery is wrong (duh, but it must be said)- I do not honor men who condoned the practice as being "great" in my beautiful country. But I also do not define 'America' by such men and such past practices. I define 'America' by the thriving individual of today - taking no thought for race when considering a neighbor, a pastor, or a President. America, where no race must owe any other race (which is the clearest line of racisim I see in Wrights' sermons), where guilt for attacking Terrorism, and attacking obstructers of justice, and attacking Hitlers of truth mixed with lies is dissolved by Patriotism, where speaking freely among other individuals who hold their freedom to speak, and beleive, and worship to be valuable enough to fight an dprotect. THAT is America. That is definitely NOT the racist, murderous, guilted country some are preaching against. As James Madison said, "Security against foreign invasion is one of the primitive objects of civil society." It's not something to feel guilty or judgmental over. Even amongst the first attempt at Democracy, the Atehnian statesman Pericles declared, "Our government is not copied from those of our neighbors: we are an example to them rather than they to us." I personally have a continual pride in my country, and when a politician screws her or over, I do not define my America by that politician. Nor do I define America by the politicians of the past. I move beyond the bad and seek the better. Now, a time when our country is supposed to be uniting either for the war in Iraq, or for a President like Obama, we find ourselves split between Conservatives and Liberals, Blacks/Other minorities and Whites. I believe in America as a whole, though, and while it is POSSIBLE that God judged America because of the individuals in it through the 911 attacks, I do not believe the individuals should start throwing up their hands and start blaming races or 'America' in general. THat's rash. God is not yet done with this nation. We may have forgotten Him, but He is not so far away that He cannot hear the cries and the problems. If an individual has any beleif in God, one must beleive that He is merciful to those who ask for mercy. So if judgmental fingers are to be pointed, they should be pointed at ones judgmental self.
You, the individual, create America. If you see her as racist - she will become that. If you see her as a blood-thirsty war-creating dynasty - she will seem that. If you see her as a politically hopeless house of unpatriotic, self-ambitious, wooden-hearted bigots, she will graciously take that shape.
I believe much of the problem with the black society, is not the people, but is with the predominating perspective. Whites owe them nothing. Blacks must earn their way just as much as whites, and where they feel victimized by their past, whites feel monsterized by theirs. Either misconception MUST be actively uprooted in the family systems and discarded from young minds before one culture grows to steadily misunderstand the other. That my friends, is not the America I see. I have bright hopes for my country - I dream of unity as well. But it is unrealistic to believe that EVERYONE will agree on every 'accepted' point/agenda/political party. The beauty of America is being ABLE to speak out - even with people like Rev. Wright. But when philosophies like Rev. Wright become a damage to the perspective of black communities - it is something to condemn. Obviously there is a problem in the average black family, and blacks are looking for the answer to it. No young black guy wants to be looked at suspiciously just because so many other young black guys are in jail. But Reverend Wrights' hair-raising sermons, inspiring blacks to stand up and unquestioningly support anyone of their color, is racist and unpatriotic.
I will not be voting for Obama because of his support of Partial-birth Abortion, Higher Taxes, a weak Immigration Plan, bogus universal health-care (do you really want THAT regulated by the government?!) and a weak stand against Terrorism. My hope in America has nothing to do with Obama's color, but that she (all races) will see Obama for who he is and what he stands for.
Who really cares about Reverend Wright? He's just a nine-days-wonder. I believe many African-Americans strongly agree with Wright, and America is finally hearing the voice of blacks...the voice of Obama. But it is AMERICA...AMERICA...all of us together who will decide in the end. What is more important? Color, or the colorful past? Or an America that is DIFFERENT, setting an EXAMPLE for the world in JUSTICE, and INTEGRITY, and a successful system of free patriots.
I cannot pretend to be an expert on Politics (in fact that is one reason why I logn to be 25 - so I can write more knowledgeably), but I have had a couple of my customers generously take the time to help me broaden my perspective here. I do understand how African Americans are seeing this - and I know that since nobody seems to have 'the answer' for the blacks' declining culture, Obama looks like a clean-cut, modern version of a black Savior.
I think even in this declining culture, it would be good to realize that every day one lives and breathes in America, is a day one is contributing to society. And when one condemns the decline of society in America, it reflects poorly on oneself. Regardless, I am full of compassion on this controversial issue, and I want only the best for the country I love, am proud of, and would fight for with my last breath.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Scandal... Who are You Protecting?
I have an interest in scandal. You do, too. Admit it. It's interesting. I suppose everyone likes to be shocked every now and then when they hear that a major celebrity, or politician, or public figure is caught doing something he/she is not supposed to do. Maybe you don't get fascinated by that kind of drivel, but I can't help glancing at the headlines and catching snatches of the news.
One of our fading scandals has been in Eliot Spitzer - a widely publicized 9-days-wonder. As you probably know, he was caught in an inappropriate relationship digested from Emperors Club VIP, a prostitution ring. Unfortunately, his indiscretions are not all that uncommon in the political field. After Bill Clinton paved the way, we can be prepared for anything. However, I believe what outraged many people about Spitzer, was not his weakness or his mistakes. People could not believe that Spitzer would go from actively prosecuting at least 2 prostitution rings, to actually participating in one. Spitzer was, in the greatest sense of the word, a hypocrite. Not a pleasant word in our society.
And then there is Obama - and his questionable associations with Reverend Jeremiah Wright and Farrikahn. His poll ratings deliver the naked truth - America is dissapointed in the Obama of 'unity'. They were impressed, they cheered like he was a celebrity, they put their faith in him. But how can he claim to want unity and turn around and attend a church that is not just racist toward 'whites', but is hateful towards America in general. How can that be our future presidents' mentor? How can that be the future of America? How can that represent a GOOD change? How can that instill an 'Audicity to Hope' when those hopes are wavering even now? This is a very crucial time for Obama. He says he's all about 'unity'. What are we unifying for? Is this REALLY all about turning a blind eye on 'color', or is to turn a blind eye on Obama?
I personally think the word 'racist' is so rashly thrown out there, that anyone discussing it gets absurdly technical in everything they say. Is it racist to mention the color of a person? Or is it only racist when one makes the effort to discriminate against a person because of their color (either black OR white, etc.)? I personally don't see the big issue between the races. I was never taught there was any difference between me and any of my black, indian, or oriental friends. We just had different heritages - and it was neat to think of where we had all come from. I think Obama's church makes such an effort to catapult black ideals into prominence, that they are discriminating against any other culture of white origin in America. That's not just sick - it's wrong! Who cares if somebody is white or black? If they have something good to say, and they believe what they say, and they can act like what they say they are - I have great confidence in them. Don't turn a blind eye on race! So, you're Mexican, you're English, you're African American, you're German, you're Irish, you're Jewish, you're Indian, you're Arabian, you're out of this world. Cool. Nice to meet you, now what do you have to say? Who are you? What do you believe? That's far more important in my eyes.
Obama is a hypocrite. He wants to unify us, but he attends a church like that for 20 years?! Give me a break... There is still the 20-years of indoctrination. I KNOW how churches are. You don't just walk away from their teaching. It's stays with you. For a very long time.
As nice as Obama seems, be honest with yourself. Who cares about his color or his white mama? Obama just doesn't have much to say. His speeches, while eloquent, inspire emotions as opposed to trust. They are empty words -- something America apparently hasn't gotten used to with Politicians. And the more I see of the 'Politician Obama', the less popular shine I see in that wide smile. While the charming personality of Obama eeks out through his speeches, I am becoming more and more aware of how dangerous he really is for America.
When I look at Politicians, I've observed that the wisest way to evaluate their standing both politically and personally - is by their associations. Now let's talk about Obama's long-time mentor, spiritual adviser who in fact was consulted and prayed with before Obama entered the candidacy, friend, and pastor of 20 years, Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Wright has been publicized lately for saying extremely controversial, nutjob, racist things. He reportedly "pledged acquired skills available to the black community, strengthening and supporting black institutions, pledging allegiance to all black leadership who have embraced the black value system, personal commitment to the embracement of the black value system." He referrs to America as 'White America'... 'the United States of White America'. I realize this may all seem like racist hogwash, but that's exactly what it is. Seriously, if you listen to some of Wright's sermons, you can hear him saying 'No, no, no, no. Not God Bless America, God damn America.' He claims the 911 terrorist attacks were conspiracies against Black people - everything is just one big conspiracy against Black people. According to him, “Jesus was a poor black man who lived in a country and who lived in a culture that was controlled by rich white people. The Romans were rich. The Romans were Italians, which means they were European, which means they were white–and the Romans ran everything in Jesus’ country. It just came to me . . . why so many folk are hatin’ on Barack Obama. He doesn’t fit the model!” -Which is funny because, although he claims to preach straight gospel, Jesus was a Jew, of Hebrew descent.
Obama of course distances himself from Wright by saying he was 'like an old uncle who sometimes says things you don't always agree with'. The difference being, however, that you don't choose your uncle. You CHOOSE your Pastor. Obama was married in the church, his kids were baptised in the church, and then he came out - all of the beautiful eloquence fleeing to distant horizons - and said that he had not been in attendance for the Sunday's which involved the racist comments. Did you catch that? He said he WAS NOT THERE for the hateful words Wright is videotaped saying. Yet there were dozens of sermons filled with this kind of hate speech! And you'd think - wow being in a church that long, and tithing $22000 last year alone (that would be Obama) can have some POWERFUL influence on your outlook on life and America. Not much 'unity' there if you ask
Then there's Farrakhan. I believe he bombed the White House in the 70's, and is reported to have said, "I wish I would have bombed more/Caused more devestation". He is definitely associated with Obama's past - although Obama has vehmently distanced himself in the light of publicity.
So I've heard Obama lie. There's no way he couldn't have been apart of at least ONE of the sermons that included this load of bull. That makes him just another politician. And I've seen his candidacy shake in the spot light under the scrutiny. I respect the fact that he still stands -- but I find it increasingly hard to respect him just because he is a smooth oiled talker. People are already crediting him for 'taking this issue on', and delivering some 'resounding speeches'. Is America so surface focused? There is still the 20-years of indoctrination. I KNOW how churches are. You don't just walk away from their teaching. It's stays with you. For a very long time.
So if you're supporting Obama...if you're one of the proud supporters of his campaign...if you're willing to stand by him through thick and thin, black and white, right and wrong...I hope you're thinking long and hard right now. What attracts you to him? Are you defending him, or are you defending your own personal gains from his success? Think about it. Who are you protecting?
Those are just some of my concerns -- and they are increasingly shared by those who are aware of the situation.
One of our fading scandals has been in Eliot Spitzer - a widely publicized 9-days-wonder. As you probably know, he was caught in an inappropriate relationship digested from Emperors Club VIP, a prostitution ring. Unfortunately, his indiscretions are not all that uncommon in the political field. After Bill Clinton paved the way, we can be prepared for anything. However, I believe what outraged many people about Spitzer, was not his weakness or his mistakes. People could not believe that Spitzer would go from actively prosecuting at least 2 prostitution rings, to actually participating in one. Spitzer was, in the greatest sense of the word, a hypocrite. Not a pleasant word in our society.
And then there is Obama - and his questionable associations with Reverend Jeremiah Wright and Farrikahn. His poll ratings deliver the naked truth - America is dissapointed in the Obama of 'unity'. They were impressed, they cheered like he was a celebrity, they put their faith in him. But how can he claim to want unity and turn around and attend a church that is not just racist toward 'whites', but is hateful towards America in general. How can that be our future presidents' mentor? How can that be the future of America? How can that represent a GOOD change? How can that instill an 'Audicity to Hope' when those hopes are wavering even now? This is a very crucial time for Obama. He says he's all about 'unity'. What are we unifying for? Is this REALLY all about turning a blind eye on 'color', or is to turn a blind eye on Obama?
I personally think the word 'racist' is so rashly thrown out there, that anyone discussing it gets absurdly technical in everything they say. Is it racist to mention the color of a person? Or is it only racist when one makes the effort to discriminate against a person because of their color (either black OR white, etc.)? I personally don't see the big issue between the races. I was never taught there was any difference between me and any of my black, indian, or oriental friends. We just had different heritages - and it was neat to think of where we had all come from. I think Obama's church makes such an effort to catapult black ideals into prominence, that they are discriminating against any other culture of white origin in America. That's not just sick - it's wrong! Who cares if somebody is white or black? If they have something good to say, and they believe what they say, and they can act like what they say they are - I have great confidence in them. Don't turn a blind eye on race! So, you're Mexican, you're English, you're African American, you're German, you're Irish, you're Jewish, you're Indian, you're Arabian, you're out of this world. Cool. Nice to meet you, now what do you have to say? Who are you? What do you believe? That's far more important in my eyes.
Obama is a hypocrite. He wants to unify us, but he attends a church like that for 20 years?! Give me a break... There is still the 20-years of indoctrination. I KNOW how churches are. You don't just walk away from their teaching. It's stays with you. For a very long time.
As nice as Obama seems, be honest with yourself. Who cares about his color or his white mama? Obama just doesn't have much to say. His speeches, while eloquent, inspire emotions as opposed to trust. They are empty words -- something America apparently hasn't gotten used to with Politicians. And the more I see of the 'Politician Obama', the less popular shine I see in that wide smile. While the charming personality of Obama eeks out through his speeches, I am becoming more and more aware of how dangerous he really is for America.
When I look at Politicians, I've observed that the wisest way to evaluate their standing both politically and personally - is by their associations. Now let's talk about Obama's long-time mentor, spiritual adviser who in fact was consulted and prayed with before Obama entered the candidacy, friend, and pastor of 20 years, Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Wright has been publicized lately for saying extremely controversial, nutjob, racist things. He reportedly "pledged acquired skills available to the black community, strengthening and supporting black institutions, pledging allegiance to all black leadership who have embraced the black value system, personal commitment to the embracement of the black value system." He referrs to America as 'White America'... 'the United States of White America'. I realize this may all seem like racist hogwash, but that's exactly what it is. Seriously, if you listen to some of Wright's sermons, you can hear him saying 'No, no, no, no. Not God Bless America, God damn America.' He claims the 911 terrorist attacks were conspiracies against Black people - everything is just one big conspiracy against Black people. According to him, “Jesus was a poor black man who lived in a country and who lived in a culture that was controlled by rich white people. The Romans were rich. The Romans were Italians, which means they were European, which means they were white–and the Romans ran everything in Jesus’ country. It just came to me . . . why so many folk are hatin’ on Barack Obama. He doesn’t fit the model!” -Which is funny because, although he claims to preach straight gospel, Jesus was a Jew, of Hebrew descent.
Obama of course distances himself from Wright by saying he was 'like an old uncle who sometimes says things you don't always agree with'. The difference being, however, that you don't choose your uncle. You CHOOSE your Pastor. Obama was married in the church, his kids were baptised in the church, and then he came out - all of the beautiful eloquence fleeing to distant horizons - and said that he had not been in attendance for the Sunday's which involved the racist comments. Did you catch that? He said he WAS NOT THERE for the hateful words Wright is videotaped saying. Yet there were dozens of sermons filled with this kind of hate speech! And you'd think - wow being in a church that long, and tithing $22000 last year alone (that would be Obama) can have some POWERFUL influence on your outlook on life and America. Not much 'unity' there if you ask
Then there's Farrakhan. I believe he bombed the White House in the 70's, and is reported to have said, "I wish I would have bombed more/Caused more devestation". He is definitely associated with Obama's past - although Obama has vehmently distanced himself in the light of publicity.
So I've heard Obama lie. There's no way he couldn't have been apart of at least ONE of the sermons that included this load of bull. That makes him just another politician. And I've seen his candidacy shake in the spot light under the scrutiny. I respect the fact that he still stands -- but I find it increasingly hard to respect him just because he is a smooth oiled talker. People are already crediting him for 'taking this issue on', and delivering some 'resounding speeches'. Is America so surface focused? There is still the 20-years of indoctrination. I KNOW how churches are. You don't just walk away from their teaching. It's stays with you. For a very long time.
Obama and Spitzer both have something in common; the Public spotlight where they don't want it.
So if you're supporting Obama...if you're one of the proud supporters of his campaign...if you're willing to stand by him through thick and thin, black and white, right and wrong...I hope you're thinking long and hard right now. What attracts you to him? Are you defending him, or are you defending your own personal gains from his success? Think about it. Who are you protecting?
Those are just some of my concerns -- and they are increasingly shared by those who are aware of the situation.
Monday, March 17, 2008
She Makes Us Wear Her Colors
Pinning the sky in place, a brilliance of red-white-and-blue is on the bridge above where I exit to get to work. Since my car takes the ramp that circles in a U around it, every morning and afternoon I see it from various angles, blending with beautiful every-day shades of sun. I can envision the tattered edges of that old American flag even now. The wind curls it into a crescent shape, and then spreads it smooth as silk along the line of the sky. Seeing it in the tired hours of the morning makes my heart swell and feel stronger somehow. When I feel like I am only one - working towards an endless cause as one meaningless bolt in the clock-work of America - one eye on that flag makes me want to stand straighter and work harder. I feel a part of something. I feel proud.It inspires me to stir passion back up in the hearts of the average American people. Not just any old passion. A passion for America. Did I say politicians? No. Did I say Congress? No. Did I say the economy, or the court systems, or the media? No. I said America. She is always under our feet, regardless of the global warming terrors of the day. She will always have been founded the same way… one Nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
If America were a football team, would we all wear her colors? Would we cheer her on? I think we would. We would stand behind her no matter what the wins or losses, what players or coaches come and go, and what fans were sympathetic to our cause. We would fight - in and out of season. THAT is America. We work, we dispute, we love, we fight, but in the end we all live together.
Worth the Life
This is a true story.
Early summer came packed full of unpredictable Wisconsin weather, and children laughing on the school playground expecting Wisconsin’s best.
A young 13 year old girl slid down the slides, and then eagerly raced back up the gym to slide down again.
“Kimberly! Race ya!”
Kimberly, one of Jordan’s classmates, flew into action. In the endless way kids race, she slid down the slides after Jordan and then scurried just as quickly back to the same slide.
It was the last day of school, and Jordan’s school was spending it at the park, where children went crazy with the idea that they could no longer get in trouble. It was the typical end-of-the- year feel, and the teachers were on the watch for the little begin-the-summer-fights that could spring up without warning.
Kimberly stood behind Jordan, as they waited their turn in line.
“Come on, come on. Hurry up,” one kid urged.
Finally it was their turn, and Jordan flew down the slide, and tumbled to the ground.
Kimberly flew after her and stood easily.
“Come on, Jordan. Let’s go. Race ya.”
Jordan didn’t move. She lay face down, crumpled on the playground woodchips.
“Jordan?” Kimberly’s eyes widened. “ Teacher! Miss Gray! “
One of the teachers came from out of nowhere and said calmly, “What is it, Kimberly?”
Kim pointed to Jordan and said, “I think Jordan’s hurt. She won’t get up.”
The teacher gasped, hurrying over to Jordan’s side and flipped her over. Jordan’s face was turning blue. Shaking the girl, she yelled, “Someone call an ambulance!”. It was because she performed CPR constantly until the ambulance arrived, that Jordan lived.
-------------------------------------------------------
Pat helped her out of the car.
“Okay, one step at a time. We can take it slowly.”
The 17 year old girl tried to smile at her grandmother, and it warmed Pat’s heart to see the faint effort. Pat wasn’t talking to her grand daughter, Jordan, though. She was talking to her daughter-in-law, Deana, who was pushing her daughter, Jordan’s wheelchair. Jordan couldn’t walk. She hadn’t been able to ever since she collapsed on the school playground right after her 13th birthday.
It took them five minutes to maneuver the wheel chair safely to the ground, and they were breathing heavily by the time they did. Jordan wasn’t as light as she used to be.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the house, after waving to the respective neighbors, and shutting the humid summer heat behind them.
Pat set down her keys and slipped from tennis shoes to slippers, as Deana began to loosen Jordan’s protective straps. Jordan’s head jerked from side to side and Deana wiped the drool from her chin. Once a normal little girl, Jordan’s brain damaging heart failure left her in a vegetative state. Her mother sometimes had to look very closely to see any of the old Jordan sparkle in her eyes.
Pat, known to kids around the neighborhood as Grandma Pat, knelt and smiled at Jordan. Jordan looked at her for a minute, her eyes finally rolling to a resting point. Suddenly Jordan smiled.
It wasn’t huge, and it wasn’t quite all of the old Jordan smile, but it was enough to make Pat stand and call Deana’s attention to it.
“Did you see that? Did you see Jordan smile?”
Little tears sparked in Deana’s eyes as she smiled with her hands on her hips and nodded.
“Okay, so I’ll come and pick her up around 6?”
Pat nodded at Deana with a smile. “Sounds good.”
As soon as Terry left, Pat began really talking to Jordan.
“You’re in there. You really are, aren’t you, Jordan? You know this is me. This is Grandma. Can you say, ‘Grandma’?”
These words were much like the ones the family had used, gathered around Jordan’s bed in ICU, where she stayed in a coma for over a year. Prayers were flown in from all over the country. Neighbors and friends came to visit her, some even singing her favorite childhood Bible songs to her. Her classmates at school, and her neighborhood friends, just couldn’t understand where Jordan had gone.
I remember watching my neighbors from my living room window, thinking as a thirteen year old who used to play dolls with Jordan, that maybe there was a key to unlock her and stimulate her back to a miraculous recovery. The faith I had that God could heal Jordan, I’m sure, made my parents struggle to come up with answers. I have no doubt that Jordan’s younger sister, Lauren, asked many of the same questions I wanted to ask.
“Will Jordan be coming back to school next year? Will Jordan and I still play dress-up at Grandma’s? What will happen to Jordan’s friends? Will Jordan still race me at the park? Can I still be the maid of honor at Jordan’s wedding?”
It’s been about 4 years now, since Jordan’s heart stopped and she was brought back to life by the steady CPR of one of her school teachers. Since that time, the family has stuck by Jordan’s side, paying endless medical bills, and battling to keep around-the-clock nurses employed who will care for Jordan.
Whether the hard work has been worth it, well, all it takes is for Pat to look in those dark eyes of Jordan and stroke her brown hair her from her forehead. The child is still in her, straining, but still smiling.
Sometimes things completely beyond our control spin dangerously out-of-control. Jordan had had a physical only a week before she dropped from (as the doctor’s have diagnosed) QT syndrome. That last physical before her fall had diagnosed her as a normal, healthy girl. There was no planning for what had happened, no predicting, no going back and changing. And really, there are no answers for why these things happen, except that God had a different plan in mind than man had.
Hundreds of families across the nation deal with special-needs children, many of them not asking for the hard task. But they stick to it, because it is worth it to see those simple smiles. They protect the innocent life of a child, not because they are perfect, but because even though they are not perfect, they are a part of them, and they still love them.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Speak Out Or Be A Liberal
Conservative talk-show hosts such as Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity have long been a controversial statement in the pre-established dogma of the media, and the undecided voice of the people. Hannity, often referred to as ‘a great American’, and Limbaugh, presented to his radio-audience as ‘Nobel-Peace-prize nominee’, are both very confident in the issues they discuss. They don’t hesitate to speak out on America’s declining politics, morals, and culture. As a result, they have made many devout friends, as well as many out-spoken enemies.
With dynamic voices that spread a revival of American values, each speak out and lead democrats and republicans alike down that indiscernible path of our future. Limbaugh often gives the impression of being cocky because of his unwavering position on issues that seem to pin-prick democrats in the most sensitive of places. Hannity has on more than one occasion expressed his inescapable human limitations, but urges America to become great despite all of us having those same limitations.
Indeed, they have both found a great voice all over the face of the American map, and in their own way, they lead America toward a better future. Truly, one cannot listen to them long enough, determined to make idiots out of them, before determining that they themselves are the idiots. Persuasive speaking, and idealistic values are something that any democrat should fear, lest they should listen and be overcome.
When one is a big name, and a big voice, one cannot avoid inevitable criticism. The fact that Limbaugh and Hannity can receive criticism from both their greatest enemies, and their most starry-eyed fans, and still be the same persons and say what they believe, is something to be admired. I cannot agree with everything they do, and I do not necessarily like them. But the fact that they stand and say it anyway demands my respect.
With dynamic voices that spread a revival of American values, each speak out and lead democrats and republicans alike down that indiscernible path of our future. Limbaugh often gives the impression of being cocky because of his unwavering position on issues that seem to pin-prick democrats in the most sensitive of places. Hannity has on more than one occasion expressed his inescapable human limitations, but urges America to become great despite all of us having those same limitations.
Indeed, they have both found a great voice all over the face of the American map, and in their own way, they lead America toward a better future. Truly, one cannot listen to them long enough, determined to make idiots out of them, before determining that they themselves are the idiots. Persuasive speaking, and idealistic values are something that any democrat should fear, lest they should listen and be overcome.
When one is a big name, and a big voice, one cannot avoid inevitable criticism. The fact that Limbaugh and Hannity can receive criticism from both their greatest enemies, and their most starry-eyed fans, and still be the same persons and say what they believe, is something to be admired. I cannot agree with everything they do, and I do not necessarily like them. But the fact that they stand and say it anyway demands my respect.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Cookin Hot
I have recently returned from traveling the icy roads of Minnesota. It would have been a dangerous affair, except for my capable brother-in-law at the wheel. Regardless, I am back safe and sound, and writing in my steady... yet unpredictable blog.
My next article of illumination? I thought of politics. You know, that whole sordid deal with Eliot Spitzer, and the "racist" hogwash going on about Obama? I guess Obama has a fanatical, racist 'pastor'. Then again, all commenters calling the pastor racist are being called racist. That's a good story, but I didn't feel like harping on that particular can of worms.
Thus, since I'm enjoying the peace and quiet (i.e. boredom) of a week off work, I am even more keen on the things of boredom that overwhelm us in this world. Yet, it is - here's my word - fascinating how even 'things of boredom' can become fun! I like to dabble in alot of things. Perhaps that means I have no strengths in one particular field of study. Or, perhaps it means I am better-versed to take on all the beguiling interests of this world. After all, isn't this old world just a bunch of people desperate to find their place in life? Some have found it. More yet are searching...searching. Still, you can have all the obligations in the world and still need... fulfillment. So I have it for you! (Thus my flippant 'article'.) Cooking! Ever tried it?
I was surprised to hear several men at my work swapping cooking/recipe ideas. I guess I'm one of those conventional women who get stuck in a kitchen and are then shocked to find out 'cooking from scratch' isn't a great phenomenon - even for men. I have been set right. I am now confident many of you will stir up and dish out these ooey-gooey cookies over the weekend. (If those of you from work will remember, I gave out these cookies for free one day. They didn't turn out so well that time, but incidently that's because I forgot the egg. Trust me, they are the height of simplicity and the aroma of them alone will melt seductively in your mouth).
Chewy Ginger Cookies
3/4 cup shortening
1-1/4 white sugar, divided
1 egg
1/4 cup molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
K, you're going to want to whip that shortening and 1 cup of the sugar together into a creamy white substance (this can be done nicely with a blender) (or you can beat it like 132 times by hand). Then stir in your egg, molasses and vanilla; please mix well. In a separate bowl conjugate all dry ingredients; add those dry ingredients to your creamed mixture and mix it all together...well. Roll those babes into 1-in. balls; and roll those balls derisively in that remaining 1/4 cup sugar. Place the little sugar balls 1-1/2 in. apart on UNgreased baking sheets. Set your oven at 375 degrees. Feel confidence as you bake those cookies for 10 minutes (or until they are an irrisistable light brown). Being careful not to burn yourself (I recommend hot mitts), pull the cookies out and cool them on a wire rack. You should be able to get yourself a good 4 dozen cookies out of this, providing you scrape the bowl clean of dough.
I got this recipe from one of those great Taste of Home books, and I added a few of my own adjectives to make it a pinch less boring for you. The pictures shown on this blog were taken directly after I pulled the Andria-approved cookies from their burning abyss. Here's the official website if you want it. http://www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Chewy-Ginger-Cookies
Anyways, so that's my favorite cookie recipe. Remember, it's Andria-approved. Don't abuse it and give it to someone who won't cherish it and cook it forever and stuff like that.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Putting a new light on taking Pinhole-perfect pictures
Why are people in old black and white pictures never smiling?
Later, I developed the negatives we had created into 'positives'. This I did through a great little shop called ArtsCameras Plus. (http://www.artscameras.com/) They sent two of those pictures off and called me when they were done.
Thankfully for us, the Pinhole Camera process is one of the simplest forms of photography. I took advantage of that, and now I understand a bit better how photography has evolved into the Kodak camera I hold in my hand today.
PICTURE #4
Is it possible to make a camera out of a paint can?
Where did our modern-day photography begin?
Photography: (from the Greek) writing with light
I'm going to take you back in time. Hope you're okay with that. This is not going to be boring, but you have to hang with me closely. It's spring of 2007. My teacher just finished announcing that he will be requiring all of his students to complete a science project by the end of the year. He will allow us to partner up in groups of twos and threes. A couple of my girlfriends from school latch together, and I wheedle into the group as humble master-mind of the project. For our science project, we bounce around a few ideas, but the greatest idea of all sticks.
We're going to build a camera. At first, I thought - my but this will be a challenge! But I pictured myself rising to the occasion, and with the help of my ingenious partners, we would order all of the parts and piece together an awesome digital camera for all to be impressed by. (I should tell you now that each of us in turn were mechanically challenged by nature) My teacher seemed amused, and suggested the 'Pinhole Camera' as a better alternative. The words fell like sweet music on young ears. I had never heard of 'making a camera' out of a 'paint can, or oatmeal canister', and then developing the film into a negative. The whole idea sounded horribly unique, but - why not at least research the idea? We soon learned it was a simple enough process - one learned by patience, experience, and a good sense of humor.
We cleaned up a paint can, and that was our camera body. In my friends basement, one of us spray painted the can with flat black paint. That dried nicely. On the side opposite the lid of the can, my buddies drilled a quarter sized hole. My difficult job was to cut out a square from an aluminum pie-plate and pierce the middle through with a good-sized needle. That pie-plate hole was our 'pinhole'. We taped that pie plate behind the quarter size hole. In front of the hole, we taped black construction paper on with black duct tape. Ta-da! We were so proud of our camera!
The hard part came when we set up our 'dark room'. We used a back stairway in our school for our light-proof room. Our 'red light' was the EXIT sign that was above the door. We set up four pans for the developing process (which I'll explain later), and laid down garbage bags to protect the carpet. The only expense in the process was in buying 'Ilford RC Film Paper', and ’Developer’ and ‘Fixer'. The 'Ilford RC Film Paper' was taped inside the lid (opposite our pinhole) while we were in the dark room. It was very important that the film not be exposed to light until we were ready to take our picture. I should add, that we (the official amateurs) became 'friends' with a photo-shop man named Dirk, who walked us through much of our problems over the phone.
This is the paragraph where I explain why the film works. The film is made up of tiny light-sensitive particles, that creates a chemical record of the pattern of light when exposed to a real image. When light hit’s the film, it undergoes a chemical reaction. The spots that were hit by the sun, are made darker when they are developed. Developing this white film paper in a dark room, turns the film into a negative.
All right, so we had it all set up. The biggest question was 'will it work?'. We didn't expect much, because after all - it was just a paint can. But we thought it would be cool if we could prove all of our hard work to our friends with an actual print. Just one good picture. That was all we wanted. Our first picture was a close up of a flower.
That was our first mistake. Pinhole pictures are best taken of distant landscape, like a barn or a house. We also HELD the camera while we waited for the 30 seconds exposure time to be fulfilled. That was our second mistake. Humans naturally shake when they're trying to hold something perfectly still for 30 seconds. A pinhole camera needs to be carefully set on a stand, and the picture needs to be taken with your back facing away from the sun.
(this is not a pinhole pic. It was taken with my awesome KODAK digital)
(this is not a pinhole pic. It was taken with my awesome KODAK digital)When we barricaded ourselves in the dark room and developed that first picture (4 easy steps), we were distinctly disappointed to see little blots. Then, my friend started screaming with excitement. "I see a flower! I see a flower! See - those are the seeds... or the petals!" We all looked closer, analyzing the shapeless blobs. I said, "It looks like the fork I used to move it around left some dots. See?" We all had different opinions of what it was - but, clearly, it was nothing impressive - especially since we all had to interpret it. A picture should be clear and the details distinct.
Our disappointment only mounted through the following desperate attempts, and we soon learned that the dark room was the perfect place for heated conversations and misunderstandings. It wasn't until Dirk told me, "You guys are using a stand, right? A stand to put your camera on? Because it will not work without a still image and a still camera." I stumbled in answering that one, and decided that we would try to take a picture one last time. We must have looked an odd three-some, down by the road menacingly pointing a paint can on a stand at the world.
Our disappointment only mounted through the following desperate attempts, and we soon learned that the dark room was the perfect place for heated conversations and misunderstandings. It wasn't until Dirk told me, "You guys are using a stand, right? A stand to put your camera on? Because it will not work without a still image and a still camera." I stumbled in answering that one, and decided that we would try to take a picture one last time. We must have looked an odd three-some, down by the road menacingly pointing a paint can on a stand at the world.
We went inside and shut the dark-room door firmly behind us. On the door was a note-book-paper sign with large lettering. 'Developing in process. Do not disturb - under any circumstances!' We were very serious about our developing process. There was nothing more annoying than a promising picture ruined by the opening of a door by a smiling curious peer.
Our eyes piercing through the dim red EXIT light, and our noses dulled by chemical fumes, we ran the picture through the Photographic development process.
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Recipe for Developing
A dark room with red light
4 13x9 Pyrex Pans
A dark room with red light
4 13x9 Pyrex Pans
(2 min.) In pan #1: ½ cup developer and one cup water
Actually a reducing agent, the developer changes silver ions into silver metal. The grains of particles on the film that have latent-image sites will develop more rapidly than the other particles.
Actually a reducing agent, the developer changes silver ions into silver metal. The grains of particles on the film that have latent-image sites will develop more rapidly than the other particles.
(30 sec.) In pan #2: water
Here the water stops the developing process.
(2 min.) In pan #3: 1 cup fixer and 2 cups water
The fixer dissolves the silver-halide crystals and leaves only the silver metal behind.
Here the water stops the developing process.
(2 min.) In pan #3: 1 cup fixer and 2 cups water
The fixer dissolves the silver-halide crystals and leaves only the silver metal behind.
(5 min.) In pan #4: water
All the chemical products are washed off, and the picture is ready to be dried.
All the chemical products are washed off, and the picture is ready to be dried.
Get a clothespin, and a hanger, and hang out your print to dry.
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Even in the darkness, it was clear we had our first good picture. Our victorious screaming was 
unanimous. We could not believe the details that a paint can and a back stairway had produced!
unanimous. We could not believe the details that a paint can and a back stairway had produced!After that successful print, we became very secretive toward our inquisitive peers, and enthusiastically threw ourselves into taking more pictures. Our excitement had been revived by success, and I must tell you, there was nothing more satisfying than watching the film develop before our eyes in our very own homemade studio!
We even posed for a picture and had a hapless friend 'open the shutter flap' (which was nothing more than a piece of black construction paper) and hold perfectly still for 30 seconds exposure time.
It was very difficult to hold our smiles still, and during the entire picture I hissed, "Don't laugh. Don't move. Don't breathe."
Later, I developed the negatives we had created into 'positives'. This I did through a great little shop called ArtsCameras Plus. (http://www.artscameras.com/) They sent two of those pictures off and called me when they were done.
Over time, the pinhole camera became a dusty memory underneath my bed, along with our smudged prints. The upgraded paint can was very unhappy down there, I was certain, because when I pulled it out one summer day, it seemed to cling to me. I decided independantly to go purchase more chemicals on my own, and then take pictures of my own.
I clothed my bathroom window in black garbage bags, blocking out all light (my dark room). I took a flashlight and covered taped a scrap of red tissue paper on top of it (that became my red light). After purchasing liquid chemicals, I was ready. I dedicated a whole day to running in and out of my house, clutching a paint can and aiming it at curious objects. This kind of operation was repeated several times throughout the following seasons, but even such well-planned sessions were not without their failures.
That brings me to today. Yay! Today is a good day. The sun is shining (albeit making the snow sparkle), and I'm writing in my blog!
That brings me to today. Yay! Today is a good day. The sun is shining (albeit making the snow sparkle), and I'm writing in my blog!
When I decided that Pinhole Pictures was to be the topic of my next article, I set about researching the matter thoroughly (google! yay!). I figured that while I'm at it, I might as well answer a few remaining key questions people have about photography.
Why are people in old black and white pictures never smiling? Where did our modern-day photography begin?
I'm sure you can guess the answer to the first question. When my friends and I smiled in our picture, we had to hold our smiles perfectly still for 30 seconds (difficult). Even then, our smiles created shadows and altogether blotted our mouths out on the prints. That was unanticipated. Another thing to consider, is that in the 1700-1800s, orthodontists were a thing of the future. It's possible that people were not all that proud of having their crooked teeth photographed.
In answer to the second question, I deliver up at your feet my fascinating research on this intriguing subject of ours. Indeed, I promise you will learn something new today.
For those of you Chinese reading this, you’ll be interested to know that your ancestors (of 5th century B.C.) were the first people to write about the use of the Pinhole camera, when an upside down image was exposed on a wall from a pinhole that was on the opposite wall.
Aristotle (4th century B.C.) wanted to know why "when light shines through a rectangular peep-hole, it appears circular in the form of a cone?" He obviously dealt with the pinhole image formation in his work.
The Pinhole Camera (camera obscura) was used in the 1500s by artists like Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci to help them draw pictures. Outside the dark room a persons’ or objects’ image was reflected on a piece of paper. The artist would then trace the image.
In 1724, Johann Heinrich Schultz discovered that a silver and chalk mixture darkens when it is exposed to light, but still didn’t know how to make lasting pictures with that knowledge.
The year 1826 dawned brightly when a French scientist, Joseph Nicephore Niepce, put a plate coated with an ancient form of asphalt (bitumen) in a pinhole camera. With the camera pointed at his house for eight hours he created a photograph!
This phenomenon was expounded on by Louis J.M. Daguerre, who developed the ‘daguerreotype’ method of taking a negative image, where the mirrored surface of the metal plate reflects the image and makes it appear positive in the proper light. People were amazed to see the Degeuerreotype studios, and declared their images to be “mirrors with a memory”.
The daguerreotype was the first quality look at the camera. The Library of Congress holds 725 pictures taken in 1839-1864. The earliest pictures of the President Abe Lincoln and his wife were taken using the daguerreotype, and the well-known picture of Edgar Allan Poe in 1848 was a daguerreotype. The daguerreotype was the first successful photographic process to be invented. However, it’s biggest drawback was that it was a direct photographic process without the capacity for duplication.
The Calotype, also known as 'Talbotype', offered a more sensitive medium through its use of the latent image phenomenon. This refined process of photogenic drawing was invented by Fox Talbot in September 1840.
In the 1900s, Kodak came out with the ‘Brownie Camera’. This pinhole camera was sold to children for just $1. The name of the Brownie Camera came from the cartoon’s of Palmer Cox. His Brownie characters of 1880 were like the children-adored Walt Disney characters of today. Kids were encouraged to join the Brownie Camera Club, win prizes, and participate in the pure enjoyment of capturing a special memory. The Brownie Camera was a chance for everybody to involved in the wonders of photography. You can find those camera’s all over eBay now.
Taking a giant leap through the evolving of the camera we come to the Polaroid Land Camera, which was invented in 1947. It was the first to produce instant pictures within 60 seconds, and was the most popular camera for a time.
Now, you might ask - why would it take 60 seconds for a picture to be taken? Is that why people didn’t smile in pictures back then?
Think of it this way. With the Polaroid Land Camera, it took 60 seconds for the sun to expose the film to a real image and dye the light-sensitive chemical particles of the film into a negative.
Try to hold a smile perfectly for 60 seconds. You can’t move an inch, or relax your face at all, or the print will turn out fuzzy. But compare this with camera’s before that time - which involved hours of exposure time. The Calotype took anywhere from 10 sec-60 sec. In contrast, daguerreotype needed 25 minutes exposure time; a large improvement from the original 8 hours it had taken.
You can create a Pinhole camera by getting a box that lets no light in except for a tiny hole on one end. Then place film or photographic paper on the other end.
This site will show you how to make a pinhole camera very simply out of an oatmeal canister: users.rcn.com/stewoody/makecam.htm
Also try: http://www.agendanation.net/20/pinhole
Also try: http://www.agendanation.net/20/pinhole
Another: http://www.kodak.com/global/en/consumer/education/lessonPlans/pinholeCamera/
Today, we’ve arrived at a different world of cameras. Obviously, in this grand 21st century of ours, it is no sweat to come by a decent digital camera for $100, and it’s amazing how many children barely know how to write, but can easily operate a Kodak camera. For the folks who don’t care to buy a digital camera, most have camera’s built into their cell phones anyway. So pinhole camera’s have become pretty unnecessary. But not everyone has forgotten the pinhole camera. In fact, many teachers involve their students in making pinhole cameras and taking pinhole pictures for science projects to teach them the simple fundamentals of how photography works . For others, pinhole pictures are considered an art, a hobby, or a relaxing and enjoyable past-time.
Today, we’ve arrived at a different world of cameras. Obviously, in this grand 21st century of ours, it is no sweat to come by a decent digital camera for $100, and it’s amazing how many children barely know how to write, but can easily operate a Kodak camera. For the folks who don’t care to buy a digital camera, most have camera’s built into their cell phones anyway. So pinhole camera’s have become pretty unnecessary. But not everyone has forgotten the pinhole camera. In fact, many teachers involve their students in making pinhole cameras and taking pinhole pictures for science projects to teach them the simple fundamentals of how photography works . For others, pinhole pictures are considered an art, a hobby, or a relaxing and enjoyable past-time.
Thankfully for us, the Pinhole Camera process is one of the simplest forms of photography. I took advantage of that, and now I understand a bit better how photography has evolved into the Kodak camera I hold in my hand today.
Naturally, the cup of intrigue I sipped from long ago, I now pass to you.
The following pictures are of a few negatives shot around my house. I looked through the pinhole in my paint can and sized up the image I would be shooting (adjusting a music stand and weight props to the right position). Then I went into my dark room, taped a crudely cut piece of film under the lid, and firmly hammered the lid shut. With my thumb holding the black construction flap over the hole, I placed the camera on the stand and pointed it the correct direction. The time of day does matter, because I had to make sure my back was to the sun when I shot pictures. The flap was opened, the clock was watched carefully for the second 30 seconds was over. During the frigid winter weather, when I had helpless family members pose, they declared that it was the longest 30 seconds of their lives. Indeed, the clock hand did freeze during a couple shoots.
Regardless, the following prints are the results of those sessions. Look at them carefully. They are negatives, so you should understand that everything is mirrored, and all things naturally white (like sunlight and sky) show up as black (shadow and black). It has been a fun challenge for many of my friends to tell me exactly what the images are. The details are fairly good, but the natural human eye is challenged beyond the natural state of what it expects.
So, the cup is passed to you: What exactly do you see?
PICTURE #1
(what season is it? what is the central object?)
(what season is it? what is the central object?)
PICTURE #2
(why do the objects look like they're on fire?)
(why do the objects look like they're on fire?)
PICTURE #3
(what season is it? is the man in the door way standing or sitting?)
PICTURE #4
(which is man or woman? winter or summer? where/what is the shadow image? what kind of building do they stand by? what are they standing on?)
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Premature Baby Ben... in the impossible
When a person is told something that they believe in is impossible, their first inclination is to believe in it anyway. Believe against all hopes, against all of the overwhelming reports, and believe in God for that which has been deemed impossible. Many scoff that 'hope' is idealistic and will only result in deep regret. But I submit that some individuals have a grasp on something deeper than hope. They have faith. Faith in God.
To some, faith is a strange concept. Skeptics can say some very loud and scientific things against faith and God. And they have every right to. But regardless of those loud words, faith remains a strong core of communities, families, and my great country of America. I guess I already knew this, but I know now more than ever that God cannot be proved by science, or by man. God proves Himself. Some may doubt their beliefs, but faith itself cannot be extinguished. And when this faith is grounded in God, it has power that even the most knowledgeable of mortals cannot deny. It is my experience that those who believe in God regardless of the opinion of man, have decided that there is Someone bigger than man that has the power over life and death.
So why not believe in the impossible, eh? Why not have a little faith, ladies and gentlemen… in miracles?
I present to you a very young family. This family was normal enough for quite a while. Aaron and Heather already had two blonde-haired little girls and were naturally pleased when they found out they were pregnant with a boy. So, young Julianna and Lauren were to have a little brother! There’s nothing abnormal about that. Little boys are born every day. But what was unusual about the little boy Heather was carrying, was that he was not growing normally in the womb. This was naturally a shock to the whole family (including the two girls’ close grandparents), and requests for prayer were sent around to churches.
Understandably, the time that has followed has been a turbulent time for the family. The little boy, Benjamin, was born on January 6th, instead of the projected March 21st. That is a very premature baby. His diaper was the size of a large postage stamp. But premature babies are born every day. What makes him different? The more I became interested in the family, and the more I heard about their hard time, I found that it was their strong faith in God…in the impossible that only He could allow, to be what fascinated me and inspired me to write this.
I wanted to make this blog entry as factual as possible, so I figured that the best way to let you see the inside perspective to this story was to ask questions and get some answers. The children’s grandmother passed these questions on to the mother of Baby Ben. Heather was kind enough to answer them for this blog, and I share those stimulating answers with you now.
Here are the answers to the questions you gave to (my mother-in-law). She didn’t know the answers to some of them so she gave them to me. The only time I have to sit and write is when I’m holding Ben so I don’t have access to a computer. Hopefully written answers are ok.
1. When did (you) first find out something was wrong with Ben?
We first found out something was wrong with Ben on Friday December 28th. I went in for a routine US and they discovered that he was only ½ the size he should be and that my placenta wasn’t working so well.
2. What did the doctors initially say/advise?
It depended on the doctor, and we saw 10 of them over all. My doctor and 1 of the perineotologists said that this baby had a chance and lets do all we can to help him. Two of the perineotologists told me to go home and let him die.
3. What were (you) thinking when she heard what the doctors said?
I of course was scared, however I had the peace of God that all would be OK. Not easy or pleasant, but OK I had not experienced His peace so vividly like that before. It was wonderful and what got me through the2 weeks of bed rest and the 7 weeks since.
4. When did the emergency C-section take place? And what would the normal due date have been?
I had him on Sunday January 6th at 2:18 pm. His original birthday was supposed to be March 21st.
5. How much did Benjamin weigh? How premature was he? What did he look like initially? What was the first sign that he might live?
He weighed 15 oz. And was 11 inches long. He was just about 12 weeks premature. When I first saw him at 2 hours old he looked tiny, pink and cute. He looked like a normal baby only in miniature. He looked like a tiny version of Lauren. The first sign that he might live medically speaking was the fact that he breathed on his own for the first 6 hours of his life. He had a rough 2 weeks after that when the doctors were doubtful that he’d make it but I always knew that he would live and be OK.
6. What were the family’s and (your) reaction to Benjamin?
We all pretty much reacted the same way. We were relieved, overwhelmed and very joyful.
7. What were the doctors’/hospital staffs’ reactions to Benjamin?
They were surprised that he survived. Only ½ the babies his size do. He is the smallest baby at (the hospital) that they’ve had. They are very good and gentle with him. His room sees a lot of traffic. All of the nurses check on his progress and they “fight” to see who gets to take care of him.
8. What milestones has Benjamin already overcome?
Too many to write it seems. He has overcome a hole in his heart, immature lungs, 2 grade-one brain bleeds, and a digestive system that didn’t want to work at first. He also had a blood infection and a body full of bilirubin.
9. How much does Benjamin weigh now? How has he changed in appearance?
Ben weighs 1 lb 8 oz as of Feb. 25th. Hopefully that number will grow every day. He has changed quite a bit. For a couple of days he was black from bilirubin then he turned yellow. He is still a bit yellow but is starting to pink up. His ribs are a bit less visible now and he looks longer - probably because he is. He’s just under 12 in. Why do I think Benjamin is still alive? It’s very simple actually. Because God wants him to be and because God has a purpose for Bens life that only Ben can accomplish. We have been able to speak of God’s power and love to people we never would have had Ben not come to us the way he did. Although it has been tough, if given the choice, we would do it all again.
As I read those answers and saw the pictures of Baby Ben, I was touched to an unprintable degree. Ben is so small, so fragile, so helpless. And yet Someone is keeping his heart beating. Someone is whispering in his little ears that he has a purpose on this old earth. Someone is telling him to open his eyes and survey the world with wonder. That is not fate, or chance, or logical prediction. That is God.
I am not beyond thinking that some will scorn the simple faith of this family. But I don’t think that would change their faith in God one dot. Believing in God is not about proving anything. Believing in God to do the impossible is a choice. That choice is something that will baffle atheistic minds for both the centuries past and future, and you and I both know that where there are believers, there will be unbelievers. Unbelievers will shake their fist at the sky as though God is some drifting shape in the clouds, and will ask Him for proof of His existence before they can believe. But God is not limited to physical qualities and physical instruments and physical limitations. He is not ordered about by ‘all-knowing’ man. He cannot be described, because it would only limit Him. No, man cannot pull out instruments and measure God. And yet, while God cannot be proven by man, God can certainly prove himself through man. Even a little man…a little miracle… our Baby Ben.
I offer my deepest gratitude to those of you who read through this entire entry, and I hope these words encouraged some of you to hang in there today. Nothing is too hard… too difficult. For those of you who found this too sappy? tough. You needed sappiness today.
Regardless of whoever you are, if you think to pray, please send those prayers little Benjamin’s way.
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