Wednesday, May 30, 2007
My First Glasses
Somewhere, I have a better picture of my 14-year-old self in my first pair of glasses. Of all the ridiculous pictures of myself that I have posted here, that one would really take the cake. Please notice that, in my Grade 11 class, there are two of us wearing glasses. Now, we all know that many more than that wore them every day, but everyone except for Richard Clarke and myself was vain enough to take them off for the picture.
I think my parents were a little chagrined that the school had to let them know that I needed glasses. They had not noticed, and I hadn't either. Well, you don't, do you? I did notice that some teachers wrote very lightly on the blackboard, and I thought that was unsporting of them, but things had gone fuzzy so gradually, that I couldn't remember anything else.
Of course, it was a financial stretch to get the darn things, so I was allowed to pick from only the cheapest frames. That was a selection of maybe six pairs; all of them ugly. My mission, should I choose to accept it, was to find myself the least ugly pair of frames. It was 1963. Cats-eye frames were de rigeur. Most of them were black on top and clear underneath, but I managed to find a pair that were sort of a mottled taupe on top and clear underneath.
Yup. The ugliest pair there. Thing is, they were the closest to invisible, so that was why I thought they looked all right.
They could not have looked any dorkier if they had come with built-in electrical tape at the bridge of the nose.
And, of course, about four days later, everybody who wore glasses had black frames. Black all around. They were still cat's-eye shape, but that clear underneath thing was SO last week!
I was stuck with them for two years, until I ran head-on into a goal post playing field hockey. Then I got black ones. Two years too late.
Garrison Keillor Has Something to Say
http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2007/05/30/keillor/print.html
Due to my link thingy problem, and the fact that this article is quite short, I'm posting it in full. You can find it at the above url.
Telling lies over good soldiers' graves
Dishonesty has gutted the last patriotic holiday that means something.
By Garrison Keillor
May. 30, 2007
Memorial Day is a lovely day in America, a day of reunion in small towns, where people drive up to the cemetery on Monday morning and file in, old-timers carrying lawn chairs, and even if you've missed a few years, people will come over and shake your hand and thank you for coming. You don't have to dress up or support the war in Iraq. You just come, and afterward there's hot dogs and potato salad at the Legion Club.
It's the last patriotic holiday that still means something, and it persists year after year despite the wooden rituals and leaden speeches. In Central Park on Monday, an admiral with a chestful of ribbons gripped the lectern and read his lines, and the line of his that got quoted was, "Their sacrifice has enabled us to enjoy the things that we, I think in many cases, take for granted," which does not ring, does it? No.
"Their sacrifice has enabled us to enjoy the things that many of us take for granted" would have been better, but still it's nothing people will take home with them and ponder. How about, "Their noble sacrifice has enabled us to see the ignobility of the leadership that sent them to their deaths"? How about "We have sacrificed enough of our young men and women and it is time to bring them home to enjoy the things that the rest of us take for granted"?
The Current Occupant drove over the bridge to Arlington and spoke at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a site of powerful reverence, and his speechwriter, in a hurry to finish and enjoy his weekend, gave him "From their deaths must come a world where the cruel dreams of tyrants and terrorists are frustrated and foiled -- where our nation is more secure from attack, and where the gift of liberty is secured for millions who have never known it," a line cobbled together from scrap lumber. Shades of "the last full measure of devotion" and "we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain" but made from different cloth. The reputation of the Gettysburg Address remains secure.
Dishonesty makes for poor rhetoric and that's what has gutted this beautiful holiday. The ideas it celebrates -- that our young men and women did their duty and died in defense of their country -- are simply not true. Vietnam was lost and it didn't matter to the security of the United States. Saigon fell and life in the States went on without a blink. And since the end of selective service, these honored dead are somebody else's sons and daughters, not ours -- one good reason why there is so little protest of this war: If the Army was conscripting our children to go to Baghdad, the Occupant's approval rating would be in the low teens.
Memorial Day survives on the faint memories of World War II, the Good War. Those old Legion and VFW guys are the ones who keep it going. Some come in fatigues, some ride in golf carts past the rows of tombstones and the urns with fresh gardenias planted in them, and the Boy Scouts line up, and the auxiliary ladies in blue hand out little American flags. There is a distant HEE-YUP and the crowd shushes and the honor guard marches in, left, right, left, right, left, right, and Old Glory is raised on the flagpole, and we all recite the Pledge of Allegiance. The names of the dead are read and wreaths of poppies are placed and maybe somebody recites "In Flanders Fields":
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
Everyone is a little stiff and self-consciously reverent. And then comes the speech. That's the problem. It is time for the truth to be told and we cannot bring ourselves to tell it. Good men and women were sacrificed to the vanity of politicians and generals. It is a miserable business to tell lies over the graves of good soldiers, but we do, and then we all sing "America the Beautiful," including the verse about heroes proved in liberating strife, and the honor guard fires its rifle salute and somebody presses Play on a boombox and we hear "Taps" and the guard turns about-face and marches off and we walk away, thoughtfully, and there is much to think about.
(Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" can be heard Saturday nights on public radio stations across the country.)
© 2007 by Garrison Keillor. All rights reserved. Distributed by Tribune Media Services, Inc.
Monday, May 28, 2007
This Is The Saddest Thing I have Ever Read....
Cindy Sheehan
I have endured a lot of smear and hatred since Casey was killed and
especially since I became the so-called "Face" of the American anti-
war movement. Especially since I renounced any tie I have remaining
with the Democratic Party, I have been further trashed on such "liberal blogs" as the Democratic Underground. Being called an "attention whore" and being told "good riddance" are some of the milder rebukes.
I have come to some heartbreaking conclusions this Memorial Day Morning. These are not spur of the moment reflections, but things I have been meditating on for about a year now. The conclusions that I have slowly and very reluctantly come to are very heartbreaking to me.
The first conclusion is that I was the darling of the so-called left as long as I limited my protests to George Bush and the Republican Party. Of course, I was slandered and libeled by the right as a "tool" of the Democratic Party. This label was to marginalize me and my message. How could a woman have an original thought, or be working outside of our "two-party" system?
However, when I started to hold the Democratic Party to the same standards that I held the Republican Party, support for my cause started to erode and the "left" started labeling me with the same slurs that the right used. I guess no one paid attention to me when I said that the issue of peace and people dying for no reason is not a matter of "right or left", but "right and wrong."
I am deemed a radical because I believe that partisan politics should be left to the wayside when hundreds of thousands of people are dying for a war based on lies that is supported by Democrats and Republican alike. It amazes me that people who are sharp on the issues and can zero in like a laser beam on lies, misrepresentations, and political expediency when it comes to one party refuse to recognize it in their own party. Blind party loyalty is dangerous whatever side it occurs on. People of the world look on us Americans as jokes because we allow our political leaders so much murderous latitude and if we don't find alternatives to this corrupt "two" party system our Representative Republic will die and be replaced with what we are rapidly descending into with nary a check or balance: a fascist corporate wasteland. I am demonized because I don't see party affiliation or nationality when I look at a person, I see that person's heart. If someone looks, dresses, acts, talks and votes like a Republican, then why do they deserve support just because he/she calls him/herself a Democrat?
I have also reached the conclusion that if I am doing what I am doing because I am an "attention whore" then I really need to be committed. I have invested everything I have into trying to bring peace with justice to a country that wants neither. If an individual wants both, then normally he/she is not willing to do more than walk in a protest march or sit behind his/her computer criticizing others. I have spent every available cent I got from the money a "grateful" country gave me when they killed my son and every penny that I have received in speaking or book fees since then. I have sacrificed a 29 year marriage and have traveled for extended periods of time away from Casey's brother and sisters and my health has suffered and my hospital bills from last summer (when I almost died) are in collection because I have used all my energy trying to stop this country from slaughtering innocent human beings. I have been called every despicable name that small minds can think of and have had my life threatened many times.
The most devastating conclusion that I reached this morning, however, was that Casey did indeed die for nothing. His precious lifeblood drained out in a country far away from his family who loves him, killed by his own country which is beholden to and run by a war machine that even controls what we think. I have tried every since he died to make his sacrifice meaningful. Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives. It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years and Casey paid the price for that allegiance. I failed my boy and that hurts the most.
I have also tried to work within a peace movement that often puts personal egos above peace and human life. This group won't work with that group; he won't attend an event if she is going to be there; and why does Cindy Sheehan get all the attention anyway? It is hard to work for peace when the very movement that is named after it has so many divisions.
Our brave young men and women in Iraq have been abandoned there indefinitely by their cowardly leaders who move them around like pawns on a chessboard of destruction and the people of Iraq have been doomed to death and fates worse than death by people worried more about elections than people. However, in five, ten, or fifteen years, our troops will come limping home in another abject defeat and ten or twenty years from then, our children's children will be seeing their loved ones die for no reason, because their grandparents also bought into this corrupt system. George Bush will never be impeached because if the Democrats dig too deeply, they may unearth a few skeletons in their own graves and the system will perpetuate itself in perpetuity.
I am going to take whatever I have left and go home. I am going to go home and be a mother to my surviving children and try to regain some of what I have lost. I will try to maintain and nurture some very positive relationships that I have found in the journey that I was forced into when Casey died and try to repair some of the ones that have fallen apart since I began this single-minded crusade to try and change a paradigm that is now, I am afraid, carved in immovable, unbendable and rigidly mendacious marble.
Camp Casey has served its purpose. It's for sale. Anyone want to buy five beautiful acres in Crawford, Texas? I will consider any reasonable offer. I hear George Bush will be moving out soon, too…which makes the property even more valuable.
This is my resignation letter as the "face" of the American anti-war movement. This is not my "Checkers" moment, because I will never give up trying to help people in the world who are harmed by the empire of the good old US of A, but I am finished working in, or outside of this system. This system forcefully resists being helped and eats up the people who try to help it. I am getting out before it totally consumes me or anymore people that I love and the rest of my resources.
Good-bye America …you are not the country that I love and I finally realized no matter how much I sacrifice, I can't make you be that country unless you want it.
It's up to you now.
St William's Through the Years
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This is the "old" St. William's, built shortly after we moved to Round Rock, maybe 1978 or 1979. It's now the Parish Activity Center. It's a nice little tan brick church, and was pretty much cutting edge when it was built.
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Here is its bell--
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Here is the "really old" St. William's. This is the one that was in use when we first came to town. Later, it was used for Sunday School.
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There is a St. Vincent de Paul charity outlet in the back. There were many times, back in the day, that I received help from this charity. Everything from paying for doctor's visits for the children, to paying for prescriptions and helping with bills. Not to mention groceries. Thank heaven for St. Vincent de Paul. This is now the entrance to that office. It was a different door when I needed them, but it's good to know they are still there.
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They built another building further down McNeil Road for a Parish Activity Center, but later sold it, and now it's an Evangelical church--St. Barnabas the Encourager, I think.
So there you have it...the evolution of St. Williams Catholic Church.
Ain't faith grand?
Frank Rich in the New York Times
http://select.nytimes.com/gst/tsc.html?URI=http://select.nytimes.com/2007/05/27/opinion/27rich.html&OQ=_rQ3D2Q26orefQ3Dlogin&OP=79536ac6Q2FkoQ2FOkcalbbckC00Dk0TkCDkbv.L.bLkCDl.Q3AwQ25wcQ22n
Published on Sunday, May 27, 2007 by The New York Times
Operation Freedom From Iraqis
by Frank Rich
When all else fails, those pious Americans who conceived and directed the Iraq war fall back on moral self-congratulation: at least we brought liberty and democracy to an oppressed people. But that last-ditch rationalization has now become America’s sorriest self-delusion in this tragedy.
However wholeheartedly we disposed of their horrific dictator, the Iraqis were always pawns on the geopolitical chessboard rather than actual people in the administration’s reckless bet to “transform” the Middle East. From “Stuff happens!” on, nearly every aspect of Washington policy in Iraq exuded contempt for the beneficiaries of our supposed munificence. Now this animus is completely out of the closet. Without Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz to kick around anymore, the war’s dead-enders are pinning the fiasco on the Iraqis themselves. Our government abhors them almost as much as the Lou Dobbs spear carriers loathe those swarming “aliens” from Mexico.
Iraqis are clamoring to get out of Iraq. Two million have fled so far and nearly two million more have been displaced within the country. (That’s a total of some 15 percent of the population.) Save the Children reported this month that Iraq’s child-survival rate is falling faster than any other nation’s. One Iraqi in eight is killed by illness or violence by the age of 5. Yet for all the words President Bush has lavished on Darfur and AIDS in Africa, there has been a deadly silence from him about what’s happening in the country he gave “God’s gift of freedom.”
It’s easy to see why. To admit that Iraqis are voting with their feet is to concede that American policy is in ruins. A “secure” Iraq is a mirage, and, worse, those who can afford to leave are the very professionals who might have helped build one. Thus the president says nothing about Iraq’s humanitarian crisis, the worst in the Middle East since 1948, much as he tried to hide the American death toll in Iraq by keeping the troops’ coffins off-camera and staying away from military funerals.
But his silence about Iraq’s mass exodus is not merely another instance of deceptive White House P.R.; it’s part of a policy with a huge human cost. The easiest way to keep the Iraqi plight out of sight, after all, is to prevent Iraqis from coming to America. And so we do, except for stray Shiites needed to remind us of purple fingers at State of the Union time or to frame the president in Rose Garden photo ops.
Since the 2003 invasion, America has given only 466 Iraqis asylum. Sweden, which was not in the coalition of the willing, plans to admit 25,000 Iraqis this year alone. Our State Department, goaded by January hearings conducted by Ted Kennedy, says it will raise the number for this year to 7,000 (a figure that, small as it is, may be more administration propaganda). A bill passed by Congress this month will add another piddling 500, all interpreters.
In reality, more than 5,000 interpreters worked for the Americans. So did tens of thousands of drivers and security guards who also, in Senator Kennedy’s phrase, have “an assassin’s bull’s-eye on their backs” because they served the occupying government and its contractors over the past four-plus years. How we feel about these Iraqis was made naked by one of the administration’s most fervent hawks, the former United Nations ambassador John Bolton, speaking to The Times Magazine this month. He claimed that the Iraqi refugee problem had “absolutely nothing to do” with Saddam’s overthrow: “Our obligation was to give them new institutions and provide security. We have fulfilled that obligation. I don’t think we have an obligation to compensate for the hardships of war.”
Actually, we haven’t fulfilled the obligation of giving them functioning institutions and security. One of the many reasons we didn’t was that L. Paul Bremer’s provisional authority staffed the Green Zone with unqualified but well-connected Republican hacks who, in some cases, were hired after they expressed their opposition to Roe v. Wade. The administration is nothing if not consistent in its employment practices. The assistant secretary in charge of refugees at the State Department now, Ellen Sauerbrey, is a twice-defeated Republican candidate for governor of Maryland with no experience in humanitarian crises but a hefty résumé in anti-abortion politics. She is to Iraqis seeking rescue what Brownie was to Katrina victims stranded in the Superdome.
Ms. Sauerbrey’s official line on Iraqi refugees, delivered to Scott Pelley of “60 Minutes” in March, is that most of them “really want to go home.” The administration excuse for keeping Iraqis out of America is national security: we have to vet every prospective immigrant for terrorist ties. But many of those with the most urgent cases for resettlement here were vetted already, when the American government and its various Halliburton subsidiaries asked them to risk their lives by hiring them in the first place. For those whose loyalties can no longer be vouched for, there is the contrasting lesson of Vietnam. Julia Taft, the official in charge of refugees in the Ford administration, reminded Mr. Pelley that 131,000 Vietnamese were resettled in America within eight months of the fall of Saigon, despite loud, Dobbs-like opposition at the time. In the past seven months, the total number of Iraqis admitted to America was 69.
The diplomat Richard Holbrooke, whose career began during the Vietnam War, told me that security worries then were addressed by a vetting process carried out in safe, preliminary asylum camps for refugees set up beyond Vietnam’s borders in Asia. But as Mr. Holbrooke also points out in the current Foreign Affairs magazine, the real forerunner to American treatment of Iraqi refugees isn’t that war in any case, but World War II. That’s when an anti-Semitic assistant secretary of state, Breckinridge Long, tirelessly obstructed the visa process to prevent Jews from obtaining sanctuary in America, not even filling the available slots under existing quotas. As many as 75,000 such refugees were turned away before the Germans cut off exit visas to Jews in late 1941, according to Howard Sachar’s “History of the Jews in America.”
Like the Jews, Iraqis are useful scapegoats. This month Mr. Bremer declared that the real culprits for his disastrous 2003 decision to cleanse Iraq of Baathist officials were unnamed Iraqi politicians who “broadened the decree’s impact far beyond our original design.” The Republican leader in the Senate, Mitch McConnell, is chastising the Iraqis for being unable “to do anything they promised.”
The new White House policy, as Zbigniew Brzezinski has joked, is “blame and run.” It started to take shape just before the midterm elections last fall, when Mr. Rumsfeld wrote a memo (propitiously leaked after his defenestration) suggesting that the Iraqis might “have to pull up their socks, step up and take responsibility for their country.” By January, Mr. Bush was saying that “the Iraqi people owe the American people a huge debt of gratitude” and wondering aloud “whether or not there is a gratitude level that’s significant enough in Iraq.” In February, one of the war’s leading neocon cheerleaders among the Beltway punditocracy lowered the boom. “Iraq is their country,” Charles Krauthammer wrote. “We midwifed their freedom. They chose civil war.” Bill O’Reilly and others now echo this cry.
The message is clear enough: These ungrateful losers deserve everything that’s coming to them. The Iraqis hear us and are returning the compliment. Whether Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki is mocking American demands for timelines and benchmarks, or the Iraqi Parliament is setting its own timeline for American withdrawal even while flaunting its vacation schedule, Iraq’s nominal government is saying it’s fed up. The American-Iraqi shotgun marriage of convenience, midwifed by disastrous Bush foreign policy, has disintegrated into the marriage from hell.
While the world waits for the White House and Congress to negotiate the separation agreement, the damage to the innocent family members caught in the cross-fire is only getting worse. Despite Mr. Bush’s May 10 claim that “the number of sectarian murders has dropped substantially” since the surge began, The Washington Post reported on Thursday that the number of such murders is going up. For the Americans, the cost is no less dear. Casualty figures confirm that the past six months have been the deadliest yet for our troops.
While it seems but a dim memory now, once upon a time some Iraqis did greet the Americans as liberators. Today, in fact, it is just such Iraqis — not the local Iraqi insurgents the president conflates with Osama bin Laden’s Qaeda in Pakistan — who do want to follow us home. That we are slamming the door in their faces tells you all you need to know about the real morality beneath all the professed good intentions of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Though the war’s godfathers saw themselves as ridding the world of another Hitler, their legacy includes a humanitarian catastrophe that will need its own Raoul Wallenbergs and Oskar Schindlers if lives are to be saved.
Copyright 2007 The New York Times
The Lilac Tea
Every May, the G. A. had their major fund-raiser of the year; our Lilac Tea.
You must understand that there was not a whole lot of entertainment in those small towns, and the Lilac Tea was eagerly anticipated. We each made a poster and placed it in the front window of a local business. There was a poster contest, and, one year, I won. We, and our mothers, baked for days ahead of time; cookies, cakes, brownies, nut bars, lemon pies, petit fours, and all manner of sweet things. We made sandwiches with the crusts cut off, with ham, chicken salad, cucumber and cheese. We dug out the church's immense stock of cups and saucers, and about a hundred teapots. We polished the silver, and made sure those tea sets sparkled.
I can remember to this day the cheerful ambiance. Every table had a bouquet of lilac on it, and that beautiful fragrance, combined with the lovely smell of fresh-brewed tea made a pleasant and memorable pot pourri. The murmur of many conversations was punctuated by the tinkling sound of silver spoons stirring in porcelain cups. We girls were kept busy keeping the sandwiches stocked and the teapots full. The kettles in the kitchen were never cold. If we were lucky, there would be a bit left over for us to eat when the patrons had gone home and the dishes were washed.
At the time, we took it for granted. Looking back, it seems idyllic. There were no cell phones to go off, punctuating the atmosphere with their tinny tunes. Nobody was plugged into an Ipod. There wasn't even a dishwasher in the church kitchen...that's why they had us!
We raised enough money between the Lilac Tea and our booth at the Christmas Sale to fund weekends at Camp Columbia and other treats. We also learned how to make and serve a terrific tea.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Happy Memorial Day! Er...Come Again?
Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.
Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country.
There are a few notable exceptions. Since the late 50's on the Thursday before Memorial Day, the 1,200 soldiers of the 3d U.S. Infantry place small American flags at each of the more than 260,000 gravestones at Arlington National Cemetery. They then patrol 24 hours a day during the weekend to ensure that each flag remains standing. In 1951, the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts of St. Louis began placing flags on the 150,000 graves at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery as an annual Good Turn, a practice that continues to this day. More recently, beginning in 1998, on the Saturday before the observed day for Memorial Day, the Boys Scouts and Girl Scouts place a candle at each of approximately 15,300 grave sites of soldiers buried at Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park on Marye's Heights (the Luminaria Program). And in 2004, Washington D.C. held its first Memorial Day parade in over 60 years.
I know that, to many Americans, a day off from work is something to celebrate, no matter the reason for it.
Still, I get very tired of seeing any and all holidays used as excuses for sales at the local carpet shop and used car dealer.
People say, "Happy Memorial Day," and I answer, "Yeah, I'll be thinking of my friend who died in Viet Nam. You have a good one!"
Friday, May 25, 2007
Memorial Day Storms
What is it about the Memorial Day weekend that attracts such storms? We had a doozy here last night, and more expected today. The San Gabriel River is at 9.2 ft., and expected to crest at 10 later this morning. Flood stage there is 7 ft. The San Gabriel River runs through Georgetown, about 8 miles north of us.
I can remember two that were really bad--people still talk about the 1981 Memorial Day flood. Jim almost drowned in that one when his car got washed into Shoal Creek. I saw my neighbour digging a trench around her house to keep the water from coming in her back door. My friend Becky called me from Austin and said, "There's a foot of water flowing down 45th Street. I've lived in Austin all my life, and I've never seen weather like this!" It was pretty scary.
In 1990, Jimmy Toungate and I, and our newborn Brendan, and both of my daughters, were out at the lake with his family. Toward the end of the day, we could see huge thunderheads approaching, and decided to hotfoot it for home before it hit. We literally raced that storm home! There was thunder and lightning all around us, and the first huge drops of rain fell as we pulled into the driveway. We dove for the house, lost power almost immediately, and went to bed. When we got up in the morning, ours was the only fence on the block still standing. It was constructed in such a way that it provided less resistance than most fences, so it survived.
Every low water crossing in Round Rock is probably closed, so it's not even worth checking. Just plan a different route.
If I were off today, I'd be out with my camera, but duty calls.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Wheezing and Sneezing
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
From Head to Toe
Want something terrific to wear? Let your imagination soar! Pretty much, whatever you want, we have it. Last Halloween, we turned away one person. He wanted a pair of red long johns, overalls, and a small farm animal to attach to the front of his fly.
We had to tell him he was on his own for that one.
But, if you need a triple X Renaissance gown, we have it.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Fence Will Destroy Wildlife
Activists fear big cats, tortoises, will be cut off from water at the Rio Grande
Environmentalists have spent decades acquiring and preserving 90,000 riverfront acres of Texas scrub and forest and protecting the area's wildlife. Now they fear the hundreds of miles of border fences will undo their work and kill some land animals by cutting them off from the Rio Grande, the only source of fresh water.
But, of course the powermongers don't care about that! No. Instead, they inflame the Anglo population into a frenzy of fear of immigrants so that they can pass laws restricting all of us.
Because, if you think for one minute you are safe due to your blue eyes or Northern European name, think again. Once they are ready to move on from Latinos, they will cast around for another victim.
Do you think Hitler destroyed just Jews? Wrong. Poles, gypsies, homosexuals and those he considered to be mentally or physically deficient also went to the camps and, ultimately, the ovens.
Damn, I wish you would all WAKE UP!
Hit By a Car
There was a corner store across the street. This was before the days of the QuickeeMart, and all such shops were mom-and-pop operations. On this fateful day, I had gone in search of penny candy. My mom always said my sweet tooth would do me in, and, on that day, it very nearly did.
Crossing back, I saw the oncoming car. It was coming pretty fast, but I was safely enclosed in the magic bubble called a "crosswalk," right? I could see my husband and two friends sitting at the bottom of the path to our house, waiting to mug me for my candy.
The next thing I knew, I was seeing the same three faces through a doorway as I was being wheeled by on a gurney. They looked remarkably glum, and I wondered what had happened.
I found out later that my magic bubble was not impervious to a car travelling 40 mph. I had been hit and tossed onto the hood of the car. The driver stopped, and tried to get me onto my feet from the spot on the road where my slide off the car had left me. I was bleeding from the mouth. Fortunately, my friend Paul was well versed in first aid, and he knew to tell the driver to leave me on the ground. Apparently, I was sitting there, calmly munching my candy.
Xrays showed that I had a broken pelvis. I also had both knees wrenched, and my teeth had gone through the flesh below my lip. That accounted for the bleeding, and I had no internal injuries.
I was in hospital for two weeks, and, when I came out, I had reached an all-time low adult weight, for me, of 87 lbs. Of course, that was the era when a normal birth kept a person in hospital for four days. If the accident had happened recently, I'm sure I would have been out of there in three. I limped around on crutches for a further six weeks. I was told to wait at least three years before having a baby, and that I would have trouble with my knees "later." "Later" has now arrived.
I was asked, after a suitable period of years, if I had ever remembered the accident. I had not, have not, and probably never will.
I have been reminded of this painful incident because one of Jim's former students was hit and killed on RM 620 this past weekend, less than a mile from our house. She had parted company with the friend she was riding with, due to an argument, and had called her mom to come and get her. He mom had just spotted her, and made a U-turn to pick her up. The girl crossed the road to get in the car, and an oncoming car, swerving to avoid the U-turning mom, hit and killed the girl. Her mom now has a memory she will never shake.
Just a glance at the fact that our lives can change in the blink of an eye.
Tripper
Monday, May 21, 2007
Banshee
When we first got Banshee, we thought he was a female. It was not until I got him down to the clinic to get him spayed that I found out that he was not.
Around the house, he is the world's quietest kitty. Jim frequently askes me how he got to be named for an Irish spirit famous for wailing.
Jim has never been is a car with him.
In the car, he howls. Loud and long.
In the house, he just drools.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Prom
We did our chaperon stint, which consisted mostly of hanging out at the "sign-in" table and guarding the money box. The prom is free, but donations are encouraged.
They were expecting not more than 65 kids; they got twice that many. The DJ played an eclectic assortment of music, from country to club, with a little salsa thrown in. The kids danced, and danced. The floor was always full.
Some were there in traditional prom attire, and some followed the theme, which was Rocky Horror Picture Show. Some were dressed according to their own style, with flowing coloured hair, makeup on boys and girls alike, pink-and-green striped platform boots, or whatever struck their fancy. Girls in tailcoats. One of the organizers was there in a cream tailcoat over purple slacks and camisole, with pink Converse tennies. Her head was halo'd by a line of those tiny clips in her very short hair. The level of imagination and individual expression was delightful to see.
Also delightful was seeing all those kids, comfortable in their skins for one glorious night.
Jim and I volunteered at this event last year, and this one was a world away. Last year's was outdoors, and while that gave it a more picnic atmosphere, I much preferred this one. I can always do without dust, heat and flies. And with a dance floor, and the hotel atmosphere (Thanks, Woodward Wyndham), it was a "real" prom.
Jim preferred last year's, with its camp-out feel, and volunteer crew, but I was much more at home in the air conditioning.
Thanks to everyone who made the project happen, including the United Court of Austin, who raised $1500 to pull it all together.
The Latest From Jay
Amnesty International and LULAC National...and CAFHTA, a Dallas-Fort Worth coalition of organizations..along with many-many other organizations have embraced and support our cause to Free the Children from the Hutto prison camp in Taylor, TX. On June 23rd...we will hold a historical Hutto Vigil IX...a vigil of international proportions. (We will notify you later about the time)
As Chertoff, ICE and the Bush Administration deny access of the U.N. Human Rights Commission special "rapporteur", Jorge Bustamante, from inspecting the human rights violations at Hutto and other immigrant prison camps...and now being supported by Amnesty International...the message about the imprisoned innocent children in Hutto is spiraling all over the earth.
>From Australia to the Middle East, Europe, Africa, Russia...Asia...and Alaska all the way to Argentina. All one has to do is Google "Hutto" any which way you want to...and you'll see that what the current Administration and Chertoff are doing violates all human morality and amounts to a crime against humanity that flies in the face of "inalienable rights" let alone "liberty and justice for all".
The Bush administration and "Homeland Security"...have made a mockery of the Statue of Liberty's promise of "Give me your tired your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teaming shore. Send these the homeless, tempest tossed to me..."
While Chertoff rounds up the wretched refuse and rips families apart...he disposes them in the pits of "for profit" prisons...where they loose all human dignity and identity...disappear and get recycled between prisons so that the private prison stock holders can get obscene and guaranteed profits.
They have stooped though...to imprisoning children!!! In some cases babies as young as 6 months old...2 years old. How long can Congress be silent? Just as long as we the people are silent!!!
Why not check out some of our favorite sites. If you don't know already...we have our own My Space. On my space...you'll see that we have over 1500 friends signed up already...including Presidential candidates. Sign up!
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=171847268
FREE the CHILDREN now has some 1600 friends now...including some Presidential candidates. You'll see that many of the friends have posted FREE the CHILDREN on their sites as well.
http://www.docubloggers.org/?p=44
From Sean Cunningham of PBS-Austin. It's a class act compilation of the Hutto situation. Sign up and comment.
http://www.texascivilrightsreview.org
From the faithful editor, Greg Moses, who has tracked, reported on and archived all of the Hutto walks and vigils...as well as our campaigns to free families like the Ibrahims and Hazahzas.
Remember too...that by the end of the month...Univision will be coming out with a documentary on Hutto...an anniversary documentary from the time that Hutto opened in May of last year.
So...in June...Sr. Jorge Bustamante will submit his report and findings to the U.N. And...on June 23rd...we the people will be loud enough at the Hutto Vigil IX...to make sure that after all of our protests...Congress will finally hear...not just our voices...but the cries of the children and the cries of their mothers...who are cruelly imprisoned for the crime of wanting to seek freedom in America...
NO-CHILD-LEFT-BEHIND-BARS---!!!
In solidarity...
Jay
Thursday, May 17, 2007
I Didn't Get Cast
Body Armour Controversy
You have to copy and paste, as stupid Blogger's stupid link thingy isn't working.
For troops in the line of fire, body armor can spell the difference between life and death.
Brig. Gen. Mark Brown, who oversees body armor for the Army, told NBC, “The body armor that we issue to our soldiers today is the best in the world. Bar none. It’s proven by live-fire testing, and it’s proven in combat.”
Read the article. The man who invented the "Interceptor," the armour that the army uses, states that the "Dragon Skin" is better. Yet, the army stubbornly sticks with its Interceptor, and has actually gone so far as to BAN Dragon Skin.
Of course, the CIA uses Dragon Skin for its operatives, and soldiers guarding VIPs got Dragon Skin, but for your son or husband or brother or father over there in harm's way, the good stuff is banned.
An NBC News investigation — including independent ballistics tests — suggests there may be something better called Dragon Skin. Military families and soldiers have tried to buy Dragon Skin believing it offers better protection. But the Army banned the armor last year even before formally testing it.
Run that by me again!
"The Army banned the armor last year even BEFORE FORMALLY TESTING IT."
So, if they hadn't yet formally tested it, why would they ban it? Umm...
Nevin Rupert, a mechanical engineer and ballistics expert, was for seven years the Army’s leading authority on Dragon Skin. Now a whistleblower, he says the Army’s timing wasn’t coincidental.
RUPERT: I believe there are some Army officials at the lower levels that deliberately tried to sabotage it.
MYERS: What possible motive would Army officials have for blocking a technology that could save lives?
RUPERT: Their loyalty is to their organization and maintaining funds.
He says that because Dragon Skin was not developed by the Army, some officials considered it a threat to funding of Interceptor and other Army programs.
Shades of "The Pentagon Wars!"
I have a friend whose son is in Iraq right now. Before he left, his family and Sam Bass Theater held a fundraiser so that she could purchase body armour for him. I don't know that what they bought (for $5500) was Dragon Skin, but I do know it was something better than the army supplies to its soldiers.
Are our young men sold so cheaply by the US Military?
For the Love of God, give the boys the good stuff!
I bet that if the Bush twins were going over to Iraq, they'd have Dragon Skin.
Any takers?
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Callbacks!
The President's War
I heard two separate reasons for this. One, that it's a security issue, and the other, that it is a financial one.
Apparently, according to the first reason, the Military doesn't want the job of checking all the MySpace and YouTube entries to make sure that the soldiers are not giving out too much information. I can understand that. A lot of things have changed since the advent of the internet. Remember in "Catch 22," Yossarian had the job of censoring letters, and he got so bored with it that he would censor at will, whatever he pleased? I'm sure there are quite a few disabled and injured guys who would be able to get online and work some sort of magic with censoring or removing pages that divulged classified info, and soldiers who do so should maybe have their access interrupted.
As for the expense; don't get me started! Billions, TRILLIONS, spent on this war, much of it going into the pockets of Haliburton and other contractors, a lot just flat going MISSING and unaccounted for, and they can't afford internet for the very people who are doing all the work?
Or, do they just not want the "boots" to know what's going on at home?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Story
http://ronnibennett.typepad.com/elderstorytelling/2007/05/the_frugal_craf.html
Blogger's link mechanism is still on the fritz, or I'm not doing it right. whenever I put a link in the little link box, it shows in the editing, but not in the publishing.
Anyway, that's my story!
Thanks to Ronni Bennett, http://timegoesby.net/, for publishing that.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Tara Grant's Children
(copy and paste, as Blogger is being obnoxious again.)
Their mother is dead. Their father, in jail. And now Tara Grant's two children are the subject of a tug-of-war to decide where they will end up calling home.
Grant, 34, of Washington Township was allegedly strangled and dismembered by her husband, Stephen Grant, in February.
I read his official confession, so, "allegedly" is merely a legalistic convention here.
Tara Grant's sister, Alicia Standerfer, filed a petition Tuesday to terminate her brother-in-law's parental rights. She filed another petition looking to adopt the Grants' 6-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son.
But Stephen Grant's sister, Kelly Utykanski, of Sterling Heights also wants custody. She filed a similar petition with the Macomb County Juvenile Court on Tuesday.
And Grant wants her to have custody, the Utykanskis' lawyer said.
Stephen Grant, the whining, au pair-boffing, wife-murdering sack of pond scum wants his sister to have custody of the children?
HE WANTS??
Well, I have news for Mr Stephen (Pond Scum) Grant! People in Hell want ice water, too! Where does he get off thinking that he should have any say in who raises those children? Having KILLED the person who should be raising them?
OH, PLEASE!!
Grant, 37, faces charges of first-degree murder and mutilating a corpse. His preliminary exam is set for May 15 to decide whether there's enough evidence to warrant a criminal trial.
Enough evidence? Let's see...her torso was in the garage...he confessed to the killing and dismemberment...I'm guessing there is enough evidence.
"Stephen still has legal custody over his children," Radzinski said. "He wants to directly place his children with Kelly and Chris."
He wants. HE WANTS! That wide-eyed manipulative son of a Siberian Sasquatch is trying to run his children's lives from inside a jail cell!
He just doesn't know when to shut up, does he!?
As Alivia commented on the above link:
If Stephen Grant was any relation to me, I would not have him anywhere near the children. I also would see to it that his sister have visitation ONLY when another person was in the room with her. I think she is a liar and is as manipulative as he is. When he dismembered their mother in the house while the kids were asleep, slept with the nanny while the mother was out of town and lied, hid and tried to commit suicide by freezing to death (pleazeeee), he showed the care and love he had for the children. NONE.
Go, Alivia! I totally agree!
Terminate his parental rights. And, while you're at it, terminate him, too!
Missing Child in Portugal
Atenção!!
Se viu esta menina, contacte
282 405 400
If you saw this girl, contact
00 351 282 405 400
Madeleine McCann, com quase 4 anos(nasceu em 12-5-2003), desaparecida do resort The Ocean Club, Praia da Luz, em Lagos, Portugal, em 3-5-2007, à noite.
Madeleine McCann, almost 4 years old,disappeared from The Ocean Club resort, Praia da Luz, Lagos, Portugal, in the evening of May 3, 2007. Police says that she was kidnapped by an english man.
Pormenor inconfundível do olho direito de Madeleine(pupila derramada para a íris).
Madeleine´s right eye is unusual!
Não esqueçam que os raptores podem ter cortado e pintado o cabelo da menina, por isso, o pormenor do olho é importante!
Mothers' Day Dinner
I thought about it and decided that I wanted to stay home, because I didn't know where I could get what I wanted to eat. Further, I decided that, while I would accept help, I mostly wanted it the way I wanted it, which meant I should cook it myself. And shop for it myself.
So off I went to the supermarket (you'd be surprised how many moms were there shopping, and carrying expressions of chagrin), to get The Fixin's. This was the day for Bibb lettuce (which we usually don't buy, because it's more expensive than the usual Iceberg or Romaine), and raspberries.
So, with Jim's help, we had broiled rib eye steaks, corn on the cob, a salad with Bibb lettuce, avocado, and other goodies, and a dressing of my own invention, and cheesecake topped with raspberry preserves, fresh raspberries and a drizzle of caramel syrup.
I am a very happy camper.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Controlling Man
Two very different styles of behaviour, one object. Control.
They had certain things in common, but SSS was much smarter and more subtle than the Infamous Jude.
SSS seduced me with great sex and the appearance of understanding. He went out of his way to make me believe he was my soul mate. Once I was convinced that he was, it took a lot to change my mind. When the facade started to crack, I thought he was kidding; joking around with me because we both knew that he couldn't possibly really believe that women were bad drivers, or that sex was the answer to every argument.
Could he?
It was a nasty shock to find out that he could, indeed believe that, and a lot more, besides.
Jude, on the other hand, informed me of the "rules" as soon as we started to share our lives. Again, I thought he was kidding. Not allowed to have anyone in the house when he was out? Having to account for every second of my time when we were not together? Not for real!
But he was.
The bottom line really is that you must give yourself time in a relationship. Time to explore, time to see your potential mate in all sorts of circumstances, time to see the real person behind the facade he puts up to reel you in. Time to get to know him. Often, the controlling man will not want to give you that time. bowling you over with gifts and protestations of love, he tries to get you to commit to marriage, engagement, living together; sometimes within weeks of starting to date.
This should set off the biggest alarm. Red flags, air horns, cowbells. Don't fall for it.
Don't be in a huge hurry to change your life.
Mothers' Day
Also, I am now totally responsible for passing on the lore of my family, and it all depends on my faulty memory. I never asked the right questions when my parents were alive. Now that I know the questions, there's nobody there with the answers.
The first point is silly; the second, much more serious. The only mothers in my immediate family, besides myself, are my daughters. All they know about their family, they know from me. Their father was estranged from his family, and is now estranged from his daughters. Oh, one visits him on major holidays, and takes her son, but neither of them is going to call and ask what Grandma Biggs' maiden name was (Cline), or how many cousins are in their extended family (a lot--SSS's father was the youngest of 11).
One of the reasons I'm writing so many memories into this blog is that my kids don't know the questions to ask, yet. My older daughter is slightly older than I was when my mother died. She is occupied with the here and now, juggling a boring job, college classes, and a growing boy. My younger daughter has a new baby and is preoccupied with getting some sleep.
My son barely knows when to check the dryer, but his father's family is very active, and he spends a lot of time with them, so he is very grounded and knows where he came from.
The girls have no clue. They never met my mother. The only met my father when they were very small. SSS's parents made their last visit when the girls were 6 and 2. It's as if they are in some sort of limbo, with no connections to the past.
I hate that, but it is so, and there is nothing I can do about it except to provide what little I can remember of my past in the form of this blog.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I Paid Attention
85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!
Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz
Friday, May 11, 2007
Should I Be Afraid?
I know, I know...never assume.
A few days ago, a total stranger walked into The Sangwidge Shop and handed me my passport. I did ask him where he got it, but was too flabbergasted to ask how he found me.
The picture is 21 years old.
The name is different.
So, how did he find me?
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
This Really Sucks!
According to the Philadelphia Inquirer, next month there will only be eight hospitals in Philadelphia that deliver babies, down from 19 a decade ago. Why? Because maternity care is a "money loser."
They can't make enough money off people having babies to make it worthwhile to care for them.
I am so fed up with the state of health care in this country. Back when I first started realizing that hospitals were run by private corporations, and not funded from taxes, the possibility of something like this happening crossed my mind.
Childbirth care for the indigent has always been sketchy, but it did stay barely on the "acceptable" side of the scale. This situation is not acceptable.
For quite a while now, there has existed the alternative of home birth, with midwives in attendance. However midwives require that the home be within 15 minutes of a hospital, and will only accept low-risk clients.
When we stop looking after mothers and babies, we are risking our existence as a society.
Why is this not obvious to everyone?
Virtual Flowers
Click on the blank black screen. Or click and drag.
Lifted shamelessly from
http://oldbones1909.blogspot.com/
Thundercloud Says Thank You
I had a Greek salad, a cedar planked salmon fillet with asparagus, key lime pie and coffee. I saw a lot of filets mignon around the table, and king crab. Oh, and not to forget the appetizers--a huge platter of munchies--fried oysters, alligator, chicken bits, calamari, onion rings and fries, plus a huge platter of raw oysters.
Thanks, Thundercloud! It was lovely!
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Ethan's First Vigil
Monday, May 07, 2007
Today's Vigil
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Mothers
~This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's alright honey, Mommy's here."
~Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.
~This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.
~For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.
~This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes. And for the mothers who lost their baby in that precious 9 months that they will never get to watch grow on earth but one day will be reunited with in Heaven!
~This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
~And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.
~This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.
~This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.
~This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.
~For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."
~This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.
~This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot. ~This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college.
~This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.
~This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
~This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes totally unappreciated!
~For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.
~For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.
~For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.
~This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.
~What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?
~The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
~And mature mothers learning to let go.
~For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.
~Single mothers and married mothers.
~Mothers with money, mothers without.
~This is for you all.
~For all of us.
~Hang in there.
~In the end we can only do the best we can.
~Tell them every day that we love them.
~And pray.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Seven Random Things About Me
Here are the rules: Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to write on their own blog about their seven things, as well as these rules. You need to choose 7 people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them that they have been tagged and to read your blog!
1) "Heidi" is one of my favourite books. I love the descriptions of the Alps, and when Heidi is in Frankfurt and hears the carriages on the cobblestones and thinks it's the wind in the pines, I cry, every time.
2) I used to know the words to all the Beatles' songs, up to and including Sgt Pepper's. Not so much any more. I turned 15 in 1964--of course I thought the Beatles were all that and a bag of chips!
3) I loathe rice pudding. Not just dislike it; rather, leave the house if I smell it cooking.
4) I really, really wish I could sing. I would sound like Julie Andrews or Joan Baez, if wishes were horses. To just open my mouth and have beauty pour out of it would be the most wonderful thing!
5) My dream car is a 1980 Volvo station wagon, with a sun roof. Preferably ice blue metal flake. How square is that?
6) I have stood in the eye of the Uffington Horse. That's probably not allowed, but there wasn't a sign, or anyone there to stop me.
7) I heard a ghost choir sing in St. Giles' church on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. Chandra heard it too, so I wasn't just imagining it.
Lisa, Carri, Country Gal, Vanessa, Martin, Nelly and Milo, consider yourselves tagged!
Cinco de Mayo
Cinco de Mayo ("The Fifth of May" in Spanish) is a national, but not federal, holiday in Mexico which is also widely celebrated in the United States. It commemorates the victory of Mexican forces led by General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin over the French occupational forces in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862.
According to this site http://www.vivacincodemayo.org/history.htm,
The French had landed in Mexico (along with Spanish and English troops) five months earlier on the pretext of collecting Mexican debts from the newly elected government of democratic President (and Indian) Benito Juarez. The English and Spanish quickly made deals and left. The French, however, had different ideas.
Under Emperor Napoleon III, who detested the United States, the French came to stay. They brought a Hapsburg prince with them to rule the new Mexican empire. His name was Maximilian; his wife, Carolota. Napoleon's French Army had not been defeated in 50 years, and it invaded Mexico with the finest modern equipment and with a newly reconstituted Foreign Legion. The French were not afraid of anyone, especially since the United States was embroiled in its own Civil War.
And, further (y'all are going to love this):
...[after Gettysburg]...Union forces were then rushed to the Texas/Mexican border under General Phil Sheridan, who made sure that the Mexicans got all the weapons and ammunition they needed to expel the French. American soldiers were discharged with their uniforms and rifles if they promised to join the Mexican Army to fight the French. The American Legion of Honor marched in the Victory Parade in Mexico, City.
It might be a historical stretch to credit the survival of the United States to those brave 4,000 Mexicans who faced an army twice as large in 1862. But who knows?
In gratitude, thousands of Mexicans crossed the border after Pearl Harbor to join the U.S. Armed Forces. As recently as the Persian Gulf War, Mexicans flooded American consulates with phone calls, trying to join up and fight another war for America.
So think about THAT, all of y'all who think Mexicans are such a drain on our economy.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Families In Prison
There are rules about how children must be treated in schools. However, if they are not having classes and upholding the educational standards of the state, I don't think they can be considered a school.
There are rules about camps, such as Girl Scout camp, but Hutto is not a camp.
There are rules about the treatment of children in foster care, but they can't say Hutto provides foster care.
There are rules about how children must be treated in Youth correction facilities (well, we've seen how that goes, haven't we?), but such facilities exclude parents, by definition.
There are no rules about how children must be treated in prison when the parents are there with them. And, to write such rules gives credence to the situation. That is, it presupposes that it is OK to keep children in such a place.
(insert air horn noise) WRONG!!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Unbelievable!
We just got word from a reliable source that Chertoff is denying access to the Hutto prison camp to the UN Human Rights Commission independent inspector, Sr. Jorge Bustamante....who was to inspect human rights violations against the innocent children and their mothers from some 30 different countries.
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/tx/4773525.html
And we know why!!! Immoral and criminal conduct!!! Sleazy, callous and greedy exploitation...and child abuse...committed by the corporate controlled state. The military-industrial complex is committing its atrocities on innocent children and their mothers...right here in Texas. Taylor, Texas.
For years, we've criticized other dictators for refusing UN inspections. We even go to war over their refusals.
The State of Texas Department of Family Protective Services exempted CCA...actually exempted itself from Texas supervision over the child abuse being committed by Chertoff at Hutto.
Is it not time for a national outrage?
Will you join our outrage? Will you help?
Jay (J Johnson Castro)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Edited to Add (from Jay):
Mr. Bustamante was encouraged that grass roots Americans would hold a vigil in support of his visit...and to FREE the CHILDREN of Hutto. We will not let him down. We will not let ourselves down. We will not let the children and their mothers in Hutto down. Sure...they can bully the UN inspector...but WE will not be bullied...let alone by cowards. They can stop Mr. Bustamante from seeing the inside of Hutto...but they cannot stop our voice of outrage. Their decision to prevent Mr. Bustamante will sting them like the scorpion that stings itself with its own tail. Even the national media will cease to suppress this shocking atrocity. Now...the child victims of Hutto will now come to the light of America...and the world. We may finally see the likes of Geraldo Rivera, Anderson Cooper, Keith Oberman, Cris Matthews. Maybe now Oprah, Angelina Joli and Chuck Norris will weigh in. Maybe even Dan Rather?
Regardless...we WILL proceed with our Hutto Vigil VIII this coming Monday...May 7th...just as we resolved. Chertoff and ICE will not...and cannot...dissuade us by their impeding Mr. Bustamante. What Chertoff and ICE are trying to hide from the UN...we already know. Either way...we have won this battle.
Hutto Vigil VIII will take place all day in front of the Hutto prison camp. We'll start at 10am. We'll stop after sunset. Come any time during the day that you can. Feel free to share this invitation. Please feel free to bring your friends, family, neighbors...and members of your faith or organization.
Our statement to the leaders of this country?
NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND BARS
FREE the CHILDREN
Invisibility
People walked back and forth along the path, within three feet of me, and nobody saw me. After about an hour, a small child came caroming around the bend, and stopped at the stump, picking up a shell.
"Mommy!" he yelled, running back down the path. "Mommy! Look what I found!"
Mommy came along, pushing a stroller and talking with another mommy.
"Oh," she said. "That's dirty. Throw it away!"
Sadly, the child threw down the shell. Another child, offspring of the other mommy, ran up to the stump and bent down to pick up a shell.
"Stop it!" yelled the first child. "It's dirty!"
And the group moved on.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Did You Know...
This coming Monday, UN inspector, Jorge Bustamante, will be visiting the T. Don Hutto prison camp in behalf of the Human Rights Commission. When was the last time that a UN, Human Rights investigator has come to America to inspect human rights violations? In our months of fighting to liberate innocent children here on American soil...not one national television network has reported it. We, on the grass roots level, tend to feel that the silence is willful...complicit. Why else would there not be a rush by the media to expose such a crime against humanity that is being committed against innocent and helpless people...and for profit...right here in America.
To imprison a child is an international crime. And…will someone PLEASE look at the attached Rights of the Child document and tell me what part of that United Nations resolution IS NOT being violated with depravity by Bush, Chertoff & ICE?
Here is the document in question:
http://mail.google.com/mail/?attid=0.1&disp=vah&view=att&th=1124ddd64e0a3912
Read it, and see if you think imprisoning children is OK with you. Because it's not OK with the rest of the world. The US used to lead the world towards Democracy and Freedom. why are we allowing that to change?
Do we own the land, or does George W. Bush?
Thoroughly Modern Millie
The production was done by St Andrew's Episcopal School, a pricey private school in a pricey area southwest of Austin.
It's a beautiful campus; more like a little college than a school. The campus includes the Middle and Upper schools. The performance took place in the Dining Hall (that's lunchroom, to us hoi polloi). I was surprised that such a privileged educational edifice did not include a theater.
The performance was good enough that I frequently forgot I was watching middle-schoolers. The girls were great singers, the boys may need a bit more work. Several of the kids had a good grasp of character, and the dances, though simple, were well-done. The music was very good. I enjoyed the show. Kudos to their teacher and director, Jason Kruger for a job very well done. As far as the costumes went (Ramona and I did them), I will always wonder how all these little boys manage to wind up with their legs measured six inches longer than they actually are.
Still, I must say that the children of the wealthy are no better behaved than public school kids when it comes to audience etiquette. There was a group sitting behind us that talked throughout the performance. At one point, an adult hushed them, but that didn't last long.
The ladies' room had better toilet paper than RRISD provides, also.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
May Day
http://www.infoplease.com/spot/mayday.html
Bringing in the May
In medieval England, people would celebrate the start of spring by going out to the country or woods—"going a-maying"—and gathering greenery and flowers, or "bringing in the may." This was described in "The Court of Love" (often attributed to Chaucer but not actually written by him) in 1561:
And furth goth all the Court, both most and lest,
To feche the floures fressh, and braunche and blome;
And namly, Hawthorn brought both page and grome.
With fressh garlandes, partie blewe and whyte,
And thaim rejoysen in their greet delyt.
Another English tradition is the maypole. Some towns had permanent maypoles that would stay up all year; others put up a new one each May. In any event, the pole would be hung with greenery and ribbons, brightly painted, and otherwise decorated, and served as a central point for the festivities.
May Day was also a time for morris dancing and other dances, often around the maypole. In the 19th century, people began to braid the maypole with ribbons by weaving in and out in the course of a dance. Other later traditions include making garlands for children and the crowning of the May Queen.
When I was a child in England, we used to make little baskets of flowers and put them on the doorstep of any special friend or mentor.
At the Catholic school, we formed a parade out to an outdoor grotto where there was a statue of Mary, and placed flowers there. It is one of my favourite memories of that school; singing "Ave Maria" as we put the fragrant blossoms in that lovely place.