tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73428377572920478912024-03-14T04:16:00.936-04:00LOT'S WIFELOT'S WIFE..Turn around..look back...see with new eyes
Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-65785446913052614262011-12-31T06:33:00.000-05:002011-12-31T06:33:57.987-05:00ABOUT "FACE"<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djimxIfVu10/Tvzk-mPTtZI/AAAAAAAACRI/V2Hgs8lLZqo/s1600/MISN88zYXi8sb0joBMFONvqIo1_r1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djimxIfVu10/Tvzk-mPTtZI/AAAAAAAACRI/V2Hgs8lLZqo/s320/MISN88zYXi8sb0joBMFONvqIo1_r1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">“Where did you go to, if I may ask?, said Thorin to Gandalf</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"> as they rode along. "</span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">To look ahead." said he.</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;">"And what brought you back in the nick of time?"</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;">"Looking behind,” said he.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0c343d; font-size: large;"> ___J.R.R. Tolkien, THE HOBBIT</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>As we enter a new year, let’s talk about …JANUS and doors..</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>First ..a little Roman history:</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Numa Pompilius is given the credit for the addition of the month of January in the 6th century B.C..</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YQmH109bfC4/TvznddhZLnI/AAAAAAAACRs/IRYjyxOCBaQ/s1600/Janus-dimon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YQmH109bfC4/TvznddhZLnI/AAAAAAAACRs/IRYjyxOCBaQ/s320/Janus-dimon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>There were seven kings that ruled <st1:city><st1:place>Rome</st1:place></st1:city> before it became a republic… Numa was the second…He added Januarius, meaning month of Janus. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Janus was the Roman god of beginnings and endings and of gates and doors…</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Though many Roman gods can trace their roots to the Greek pantheon, Janus stands out as having no Greek counterpart….Janus is Roman.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<b>Janus had two faces….. one face looking to what is behind and one face looking toward what lies ahead. His ability to look both forward and behind made him the guardian of exits and entrances.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The importance of Janus was seen on Roman coins. The earlier coins depicting an older bearded face looking behind with a younger clean shaven face looking forward.</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b> As, the <st1:place>Roman Empire</st1:place> grew both faces were shown as clean shaven. Later on in the empire both faces were shown as bearded with Janus holding a key in his right hand.</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>He was the guardian of the<span style="font-size: large;"> jani</span>, the ceremonial gateways in <st1:city><st1:place>Rome</st1:place></st1:city>; these were usually freestanding structures that were used for symbolically auspicious entrances or exits.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The most famous Roman gateway was the JANUS GEMINUS, which was, in actuality, a shrine to Janus at the north side of the Forum. It was a simple rectangular bronze structure with double doors at each end. Traditionally, the doors of this shrine were left open in times of war and kept closed when <st1:city><st1:place>Rome</st1:place></st1:city> was at peace.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<b>Doorways are powerful…how many times have we entered another room for some reason and then, upon crossing the threshold, forgotten why?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<b> </b><b>There was actually a study done on the act of passing through a door and its affect on memory. “Entering or exiting through a doorway serves as an “Event Boundry” in the mind, which separates episodes of activity and files them away,” says Gabriel Radvansky, a psychology professor at the University of Notre Dame.</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>An EVENT BOUNDRY…I like that!</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b> The reasoning behind the symbolism of the two faces is that both gates and doors have two sides. In order to end something, or to start a new beginning…. one must pass through and exist on one side or the other…. To remain in the middle is not an option.</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Doorways symbolize our transitions of life. And …there is no avoiding them. We are always on thresholds. Each doorway …. new possibilities…. the necessity of letting go. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>There are times when the door behind is slammed shut, forcing the opening of another door that is not chosen, is difficult, but must be entered.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<b>There are the times where there is choice …to close the door, with deliberation, and resolutely walk away, to face the finality of that act and the knowledge that life is now forever changed and cannot be called back.. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>And then there are the doors that are sought and opened with excitement … the entrance embraced…a new area to explore..</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The story of our lives is in doors, gateways, and thresholds.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>It is important to reflect on what was left behind as a door closed and what new territory was revealed in the door that was opened, because it is in that newly opened door that the good things in life are found…the things we did not even know were there.</b><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Crossing the threshold can bring healing, new vision, personal growth, the discovering of a talent, a profession, or new relationships. </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>And so we return to Janus in his role as the Guardian of Exits and Entrances....the representative of beginnings. In order to enter a new place it is necessary to emerge from the old.</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fjhnIrdspDk/Tvztch9koBI/AAAAAAAACTw/-r2ChczQzCY/s1600/Janus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fjhnIrdspDk/Tvztch9koBI/AAAAAAAACTw/-r2ChczQzCY/s400/Janus.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><br />
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<b>Janus is the god of motion and the starting of actions. He is change and transition. He is the progression of past to future, the passing from one condition to another. He is the shift in the paradigm.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
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</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>New Year's Eve, exits are faced, for Auld Lang Syne… </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Tomorrow… Janus Day… face forward, to entrances…</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b> It is the first of the New Year, seek the doorways...</b><b> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b> Do not look back…..enter…...</b></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">"Go back?" he thought. "No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!" So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter."</span><span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br />
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</div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-89875615626855764812011-12-11T18:07:00.078-05:002011-12-12T05:51:18.799-05:00THE BLACKSTRAP TSUNAMI<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4H86gjFBD3nZ1SSAs7ZopCAo0p-3-UQ3J8su79d5KoCK9Ep66cOyPxFXRyTdzU-q5pctbDenS5VUWb7WAeFD5l8iWYdo3y31HIJS5Gq7ApB6w1TvE7-pqZ8vw5L8ZMiqGQhYTYgDXnvQ/s1600/imagesCA6DIF0X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4H86gjFBD3nZ1SSAs7ZopCAo0p-3-UQ3J8su79d5KoCK9Ep66cOyPxFXRyTdzU-q5pctbDenS5VUWb7WAeFD5l8iWYdo3y31HIJS5Gq7ApB6w1TvE7-pqZ8vw5L8ZMiqGQhYTYgDXnvQ/s320/imagesCA6DIF0X.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>In 1915 THE UNITED STATES ALCOHOL COMPANY, in Boston, completed construction on an enormous above ground storage tank. Its steel sides were curved and it had bottom plates set into a concrete base that were attached together with rivets.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV_IDEKvTFEPxohTuo5R4rqz_7GsJtVDSbN5DXYQumTS5tbl9mWSSbxjyZSmCuh5GVftTW-EuCTJQXsnKbQVE0pYniVwdeMbwXUSHL4FtCznKRCKsQV6t0lcPpKh2wO7outZSzutVbfM/s1600/molasses_tank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV_IDEKvTFEPxohTuo5R4rqz_7GsJtVDSbN5DXYQumTS5tbl9mWSSbxjyZSmCuh5GVftTW-EuCTJQXsnKbQVE0pYniVwdeMbwXUSHL4FtCznKRCKsQV6t0lcPpKh2wO7outZSzutVbfM/s320/molasses_tank.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> It was built to hold molasses….the key ingredient in rum, Boston Baked Beans, and, when distilled into industrial alcohol, an ingredient for World War I munitions and explosives. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMnzRM5wuVos9_fHL9yczJNwq9-QwngQMskj-sJreIYtnR_vewNXLu7dTbwANIjZyJS1JdC0DrY3X56JcUNsB0tEooHHC7oWLm6J1Vy3cJRfB2vEnfP4PUAd7PFQaFa9IyKElHEGeqCM/s1600/imagesCAIAV5JP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMnzRM5wuVos9_fHL9yczJNwq9-QwngQMskj-sJreIYtnR_vewNXLu7dTbwANIjZyJS1JdC0DrY3X56JcUNsB0tEooHHC7oWLm6J1Vy3cJRfB2vEnfP4PUAd7PFQaFa9IyKElHEGeqCM/s1600/imagesCAIAV5JP.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>The tank stood along the Boston Harbor, next to the city’s most densely populated neighborhood, the steel structure stood 50 feet tall, was 90 feet in diameter, and it would hold more than 2.3 million gallons of molasses.</strong><br />
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<strong>On Wednesday, January 15, 1919, at around half-past noon it was unusually warm, in the mid-40s…it had only been two degrees above zero just three days before. </strong><br />
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<strong>At about 12:40 p.m. the enormous tank ruptured ….A blast of air from the explosion blew people away and then, seconds later, produced a counterblast that rushed in to fill the vacuum sucking them back in</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>People and buildings within hundreds of feet were pierced by flying pieces of metal. A giant chunk of the vat landed in a park that was 200 feet away and witnesses reported a three story house soaring through the air. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdFCMDZO_bD3DqMtZhok8G7rNBXUSTElUFxa-xfLbq25rcnsNyG9cNVup9mZYVw6i1UXOu56Lu-NUTLwvAaYYvDOkECBFK-nvJ_t6FmM34zYc4eXqKPFsStErskH15JQtuwQE4dV2jfI/s1600/screen_shot_2010-08-19_at_12-31-54_pm-scaled1000.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdFCMDZO_bD3DqMtZhok8G7rNBXUSTElUFxa-xfLbq25rcnsNyG9cNVup9mZYVw6i1UXOu56Lu-NUTLwvAaYYvDOkECBFK-nvJ_t6FmM34zYc4eXqKPFsStErskH15JQtuwQE4dV2jfI/s320/screen_shot_2010-08-19_at_12-31-54_pm-scaled1000.png" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>A huge stone pillar that supported an elevated railroad was hit by another flying chunk of metal. Part of the tracks collapsed. The driver managed to stop the train just before it would have plunged over the edge. </strong><br />
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<strong>But…the very worst, was that the tank emptied the entire 2.3 million gallons of molasses onto Commercial Street within seconds. </strong><br />
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<strong>Flowing at 35 miles per hour, a "wall of molasses" roared through the streets. It tore buildings from their foundations. Vehicles and horses were buried. </strong><br />
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<strong>While trying to outrun the rush of the molasses, men, women, children, and animals were hurled against solid objects and drowned where they fell amongst crushed freight cars, autos, and wagons, wood, and steel.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiNJpeYTGdOPo6TSOhFHTO3oI8kfnHC-RH0lLiQHzTq7jpPdzLG9d5YLWcngxT904igUEWRDGAuIy6tDpgtFJxUxV84rkgg_8GGwyperjo2zeFF3URCQLmVKmeTnll6SymRAhJtND5mw/s1600/molasses_flood_600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiNJpeYTGdOPo6TSOhFHTO3oI8kfnHC-RH0lLiQHzTq7jpPdzLG9d5YLWcngxT904igUEWRDGAuIy6tDpgtFJxUxV84rkgg_8GGwyperjo2zeFF3URCQLmVKmeTnll6SymRAhJtND5mw/s320/molasses_flood_600.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>More than 150 people were injured and 21 were killed.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong> </strong><strong>The flood of molasses engulfed the Boston waterfront like a tsunami. It was 16 feet high and 160 feet wide at the outset. … it destroyed the entire waterfront and a half-mile of Commercial Street.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The flow of the wall of molasses pushed in all directions developing four separate walls smashing across the wharf and into the street. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHkJ7AS8-EYqxv9xJWiESu5H_rZ-SXkApvrZcQuAkjQ3vGzeYVsrLBIp1EAz2KTLNjjRf6oewKjKcyU5pWcDJVFnJDbRByjKYMgeqTo99qkJgeWYKDNUg9zmUbtWuBLJkgkvNNXZmWAU/s1600/imagesCAS9YX68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtHkJ7AS8-EYqxv9xJWiESu5H_rZ-SXkApvrZcQuAkjQ3vGzeYVsrLBIp1EAz2KTLNjjRf6oewKjKcyU5pWcDJVFnJDbRByjKYMgeqTo99qkJgeWYKDNUg9zmUbtWuBLJkgkvNNXZmWAU/s1600/imagesCAS9YX68.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>When the tank exploded it became a source of deadly shrapnel…… thousands of rivets turned into bullets which contributed to the utter destruction of the area. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Within an eye blink the Boston North End inner harbor area looked like the aftermath of a massive bombing.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Rescuers, slogging through the knee deep river of goo had their boots sucked off …it was impossible to move.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iDG96zHJunjsCNmTBuq3k1xvBvQjit0O3MoVqLitpTKlBUFJlB26MZalNvBA08F7S1vliNpz-ao3KS55l_hq5l1W1T1C6BT20uwRM-z04WCvBkuwa1iFcfVyX6T1rcT0e3-5Xtrv1vo/s1600/molasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3iDG96zHJunjsCNmTBuq3k1xvBvQjit0O3MoVqLitpTKlBUFJlB26MZalNvBA08F7S1vliNpz-ao3KS55l_hq5l1W1T1C6BT20uwRM-z04WCvBkuwa1iFcfVyX6T1rcT0e3-5Xtrv1vo/s320/molasses.jpg" width="289px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Horses that had become trapped had to be shot because there was no way to get them out. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The molasses filled all the cellars and hydraulic siphons were in operation for months to pump it out. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The cobblestone streets, homes, and other buildings had to be continuously sprayed with salt water because fresh water just slid off the glop. The streets were covered with sand. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFZ5hViumQPTynggKUKKIbU2W3n0sdknyXVLsrH5rb57RoPEe3-MZ24t9aguzJTY07F_jIhrF96Q6l2SQbgB1DjxvTCEC5sIKRouYPJCa7oAxEzsh71xudowFQvf1rwUUPNL8eh1xJO0/s1600/boston_confidential_molasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220px" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFZ5hViumQPTynggKUKKIbU2W3n0sdknyXVLsrH5rb57RoPEe3-MZ24t9aguzJTY07F_jIhrF96Q6l2SQbgB1DjxvTCEC5sIKRouYPJCa7oAxEzsh71xudowFQvf1rwUUPNL8eh1xJO0/s320/boston_confidential_molasses.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>All the rescue workers, cleanup crews, and sightseers managed to spread the molasses all over the city. Boots and clothing carried it to the suburbs. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Molasses coated streetcar seats and public telephones. Everything Bostonians touched was sticky For months afterwards, wherever people walked, their shoes stuck to the streets and walks</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The clean-up took over 87,000 man-hours. . Once that was done, the filing of lawsuits began. Hearings went on for six years. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjBKHEKXMJb2i6YIhLukvmnLeDpd8Azah3qvyStbNpqRJUNHpjHLEZ6AENPjuxQCo4LRiMzcpk1coG-E9NGCCZZat4xgbr_Nd-jNHJvp_Q09biEpAa03AAKm-d9KAq98Zt-5HiLWQpzs/s1600/imagesCAU41FJE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAjBKHEKXMJb2i6YIhLukvmnLeDpd8Azah3qvyStbNpqRJUNHpjHLEZ6AENPjuxQCo4LRiMzcpk1coG-E9NGCCZZat4xgbr_Nd-jNHJvp_Q09biEpAa03AAKm-d9KAq98Zt-5HiLWQpzs/s1600/imagesCAU41FJE.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>When they were brought to court THE UNITED ALCOHOL COMPANY claimed no responsibility. They accused anarchists of blowing up the molasses tank.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>No evidence of sabotage was ever discovered. The court eventually ruled for the plaintiffs, finding that the tank had been overfilled and inadequately reinforced. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The enormous tank, 50 feet high and 90 feet in diameter, had been poorly designed and insufficiently tested. Right from the beginning it leaked. Local residents collected leaked molasses for their homes. Company officials reacted to the constant leaks by repainting the tank brown to match the leaking molasses. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iauPEOx7hudNIv6OQmKdD8c4pLWMulrKeXY4vl2nykmf9Ck_JKGf1EgtQexCs61fGlbuu6oNJclXGmosnwgDrav8aVreJP8Ds7-v7MpAF1_OJE_VLcpa7fYqR7_3B_oxk2joHpULZvs/s1600/imagesCAGNZKIG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8iauPEOx7hudNIv6OQmKdD8c4pLWMulrKeXY4vl2nykmf9Ck_JKGf1EgtQexCs61fGlbuu6oNJclXGmosnwgDrav8aVreJP8Ds7-v7MpAF1_OJE_VLcpa7fYqR7_3B_oxk2joHpULZvs/s1600/imagesCAGNZKIG.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Because, on the day of the explosion, the weather was 40 degrees while on the day before it was 2 degrees, it is believed that the sudden increase in temperature caused the molasses to expand and the tank to explode.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The company was made to pay out nearly a million dollars in damages </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>When investigators looked for the plans that were filed when the tank was built 4 years earlier…..they couldn't find any. The building inspectors stated that “ building plans were not required because the vat was not a building but an industrial device.”</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>The tank was built with no plans approved and no government inspectors involved. </strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Shortly after the flood, the Boston Building Department began requiring that all calculations of engineers and architects be filed with their plans. Stamped drawings were required to be signed. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRa2TmlKPTBZ536siq3GhEVTDuQMzJsgoTXa7evmc4gkCXHEitJlv92srBajhXaU9d-VB9thUubqyAyCWnmlPAnlmfuW4aKvtbJoYp1Kt47PtfI51_M0EwkQusiZhFrG7ghNhwKusEWQA/s1600/imagesCAW4D2N0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRa2TmlKPTBZ536siq3GhEVTDuQMzJsgoTXa7evmc4gkCXHEitJlv92srBajhXaU9d-VB9thUubqyAyCWnmlPAnlmfuW4aKvtbJoYp1Kt47PtfI51_M0EwkQusiZhFrG7ghNhwKusEWQA/s1600/imagesCAW4D2N0.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The Boston Molasses Flood triggered the adoption of engineering certification laws in all states, as well as the requirement, that all plans for major structures. be sealed by a registered professional engineer in order to be issued a permit by a municipality or state.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>The nation added needed regulations for major structures (not all regulations are bad) and saw the historical trade in molasses decline.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"The flood essentially ended three hundred years' worth of high-volume molasses trade in Boston and New England. While some molasses distilling took place in the city up until World War II, the industry never resumed its level of importance</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Molasses, which had played such a key role in the American Revolution, the slave trade, the rum business and in munitions production, slowly disappeared as a staple product in America and as a critical part of the New England economy” </span></strong><br />
<strong><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">……….Stephen Puleo: Dark Tide: the Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919 </span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"></span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94tTzHF1TOsDk3Irz6dJDSPo04QLDlTCXMLtlt0g0wiH1X32MrIgV27pLLaUllUDyQ2F_s7rfBiICuRJxCQTVV0Y7t_17PZPin1nHkuUmGaYtNpph1lF2c6iRGvwmubwczHjsnEx4v6g/s1600/imagesCAIWDG8Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94tTzHF1TOsDk3Irz6dJDSPo04QLDlTCXMLtlt0g0wiH1X32MrIgV27pLLaUllUDyQ2F_s7rfBiICuRJxCQTVV0Y7t_17PZPin1nHkuUmGaYtNpph1lF2c6iRGvwmubwczHjsnEx4v6g/s1600/imagesCAIWDG8Z.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">It has been over 90 years since THE GREAT FLOOD and yet even today Bostonians claim that, when strolling down Commercial Street on a hot day, one can still catch the faint scent of molasses in the air.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-62724978849478341742011-11-11T09:17:00.000-05:002011-11-11T09:17:37.778-05:00THE WAR AT ELEVEN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c6vcap8fDR7_b-1kNG6-e_U4eNoaqMPA8nVBXSKMa48X5rrC2hBkw8MCNw9pOpyE-Ykry5tLeEPe_y3MGgF6PA4klSRMucDuyVqyznDhDuD4zgBfqD3AyGnu3IEOJHDfs9F2zJ7aQ5c/s1600/11-clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4c6vcap8fDR7_b-1kNG6-e_U4eNoaqMPA8nVBXSKMa48X5rrC2hBkw8MCNw9pOpyE-Ykry5tLeEPe_y3MGgF6PA4klSRMucDuyVqyznDhDuD4zgBfqD3AyGnu3IEOJHDfs9F2zJ7aQ5c/s320/11-clock.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<strong>The Western Front…the dividing line where German and the Central Powers armies fought the British and French (and later, American) troops.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHxpdd5LbOozP5xFknERpZoOd8YJCuJw-Wpo1zNUR_zr-ryHQgHFl3OFEwhANkjavJwDn2lPdXNPWQDMUtbaz_h215jrZHaphJDbep2gKH3X8mPuOBvLQfJCJ3I0v2Pbi3lT08B7UGB0/s1600/275px-Western_front_1918_german.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHxpdd5LbOozP5xFknERpZoOd8YJCuJw-Wpo1zNUR_zr-ryHQgHFl3OFEwhANkjavJwDn2lPdXNPWQDMUtbaz_h215jrZHaphJDbep2gKH3X8mPuOBvLQfJCJ3I0v2Pbi3lT08B7UGB0/s1600/275px-Western_front_1918_german.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>It was the 11th hour, the 11th day, the 11th month…1918....the gunfire was silenced as an agreement was reached between Germany and the Allies…. The “War to End All Wars” was over.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzy9YVJLipgh4UFr4z1qMV6nJrzCAYu9_x3a7weNAYExZwH6QaJGf8CZ2cGuSW4cnrrrsFjcGhyvyMbAT9-ZZfLTO3DcyFL2Q-CJjKsSuzohgnpK6xvUyGmIvi2Oc0oNHK-AzZAqDKHA/s1600/Newspaper_The_New_York_Times_front_page_1918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzy9YVJLipgh4UFr4z1qMV6nJrzCAYu9_x3a7weNAYExZwH6QaJGf8CZ2cGuSW4cnrrrsFjcGhyvyMbAT9-ZZfLTO3DcyFL2Q-CJjKsSuzohgnpK6xvUyGmIvi2Oc0oNHK-AzZAqDKHA/s320/Newspaper_The_New_York_Times_front_page_1918.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>15 million deaths and 20 million wounded ranking it among the deadliest conflicts in human history. WWI culled the potential from a generation and changed the map of the world forever.</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOPAGL1kRGBIgvdEcCLzLTtEStst5sEGKJS-KLNqdvduvILQnjoN6oVQGq8d4fr4qFLsTfjYsUv3AHf2KxRwxYkFGIZlpnFX97_X_-VEaio-xHvdbM7jeI-dfPxRjzLCfv_PQL8bp5zY/s1600/Battle-of-Verdun-553x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOPAGL1kRGBIgvdEcCLzLTtEStst5sEGKJS-KLNqdvduvILQnjoN6oVQGq8d4fr4qFLsTfjYsUv3AHf2KxRwxYkFGIZlpnFX97_X_-VEaio-xHvdbM7jeI-dfPxRjzLCfv_PQL8bp5zY/s320/Battle-of-Verdun-553x400.jpg" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">VERDUN</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>The sheer number of battlefield dead was staggering…turn around and look at some of the numbers...</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>Somme …57,000 British soldiers killed in one day….Marne … 500,000 dead…..Ypres where poison gas was first used….over 250,000 dead at the battle of Verdun. Allied dead at Gallipoli number 43,000…..Our Marines experienced what was, at that time, the bloodiest days in its history at Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Wood.</strong> <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ-QnGr8dgpMjW5x1Uw2LBgxqi9bGhoNyArAEwBAzr5D15wKI5ci3UEV7eHR9Gkk9WEIJHz-mQxGSy3EBB3izIudWu0hiVz_BKQK9Bc7sXCAydAT-Y3yS0xXOCTGKOoV062bknsXOgmI/s1600/somme1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ-QnGr8dgpMjW5x1Uw2LBgxqi9bGhoNyArAEwBAzr5D15wKI5ci3UEV7eHR9Gkk9WEIJHz-mQxGSy3EBB3izIudWu0hiVz_BKQK9Bc7sXCAydAT-Y3yS0xXOCTGKOoV062bknsXOgmI/s320/somme1.jpg" width="267px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somme</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong> </strong><strong>It was a charnel house. It was fought with great technological advances in firepower without corresponding advances in mobility…it was fought with aerial attacks, submarines, poisonous gas, machine guns, and heavy artillery....and it was fought soldier to soldier from terrible trenches. The technology was 20th century but the tactics came from the 1800’s with results that were shattering. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecXydqk_1CpIpAvFgb7rkBvbBebXvXgnIi4HzrmZxKmy5W6_4M_RDBqp9-_TnzYzPlhFdHTqODZ9Tcq0jOaY9mVWqC0RysQwQ1R-DdlRJwyDHFKUmGaBUEMBBvsm-k4RMxleda3e3xAI/s1600/image004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecXydqk_1CpIpAvFgb7rkBvbBebXvXgnIi4HzrmZxKmy5W6_4M_RDBqp9-_TnzYzPlhFdHTqODZ9Tcq0jOaY9mVWqC0RysQwQ1R-DdlRJwyDHFKUmGaBUEMBBvsm-k4RMxleda3e3xAI/s320/image004.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<strong>This was ARMISTICE DAY…so while we now honor ALL veterans …let us pause and remember where this day began…</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>IN FLANDERS FIELDS</strong><br />
<strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>In Flanders fields the poppies blow</strong><br />
<strong>Between the crosses, row on row,</strong><br />
<strong>That mark our place; and in the sky</strong><br />
<strong>The larks, still bravely singing, fly</strong><br />
<strong>Scarce heard amid the guns below.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>We are the dead. Short days ago</strong><br />
<strong>We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, </strong><br />
<strong>Loved, and were loved, and now we lie</strong><br />
<strong>In Flanders fields.</strong><br />
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<strong>Take up our quarrel with the foe:</strong><br />
<strong>To you from failing hands we throw</strong><br />
<strong>The torch; be yours to hold it high.</strong><br />
<strong>If ye break faith with us who die</strong><br />
<strong>We shall not sleep, though poppies grow</strong><br />
<strong>In Flanders fields. </strong><br />
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<strong> – Lt.-Col. John McCrae ( died of pneumonia on January 28, 1918 )</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-81512462028292388782011-11-05T08:30:00.000-04:002011-11-05T08:30:45.412-04:00RUNNING IN THE GREEN FLASH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGqNnzMzKKYKlCZD00ykA5oqhsNd8aPtme3Y5ErHKtjPR91sszEE52VvIr1flE_vdUMJ8O3APqtB4N2foCql4tjt_aY0JIi3dh65oGEHGk2kFwujFvcoE0bGmYMp0Efx2THVd6Q6gLpw/s1600/Green_Flash_27384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpGqNnzMzKKYKlCZD00ykA5oqhsNd8aPtme3Y5ErHKtjPR91sszEE52VvIr1flE_vdUMJ8O3APqtB4N2foCql4tjt_aY0JIi3dh65oGEHGk2kFwujFvcoE0bGmYMp0Efx2THVd6Q6gLpw/s320/Green_Flash_27384.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"Ever gazed upon the green flash, Master Gibbs?"</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"I reckon I've seen my fair share. Happens on rare occasion; the last glimpse of sunset, a green flash shoots up into the sky!"</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"Some go their whole lives without ever seeing it. Some claim to have seen it who ain't. …and the green flash happens at sunset, not sunrise."</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;"> ........ Pirates of the Caribbean </span></strong><br />
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<strong>"Green flash" is the term given to rare optical phenomena that occur shortly after sunset or before sunrise. It is a green spot visible for a short period of time above the sun, or a green ray shoots up from the sunset point. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPrxFlAqezownWOsJ8bHdosQsT9cscA6UVRZrfN8rrlC4lbjYbR7Fe3rkJc61c8MC5bRTyXb0RCEJUQn6bgyBft_H1BD-s5u1hrp9gRIs22kuZKU-fqyKCQWjzBO2DXCJx1vzlNiY1k10/s1600/15959239071_NSBvf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPrxFlAqezownWOsJ8bHdosQsT9cscA6UVRZrfN8rrlC4lbjYbR7Fe3rkJc61c8MC5bRTyXb0RCEJUQn6bgyBft_H1BD-s5u1hrp9gRIs22kuZKU-fqyKCQWjzBO2DXCJx1vzlNiY1k10/s320/15959239071_NSBvf.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>It is usually seen over a low distant horizon, such as that of the ocean or a prairie, when the sky is clear. It occurs primarily because the atmosphere acts like a weak prism, refracting sunlight and separating it into different colors. The green color lasts from a fraction of a second to two seconds.</strong><br />
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<strong>I live in Florida. On any given early evening one can walk along the beach and see groups of people just stop dead in their tracks, turn their faces west and await the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico….except if you stop and talk to them about the glory of sunsets they will just look at you quizzically. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>"We’re watching for the green flash," they will say through luminous smiles.</strong><br />
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<strong>Or they will not look at you at all saying, "Waiting for the green flash," </strong><br />
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<strong>"SHUSH….GREEN FLASH!” </strong><br />
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<strong>They are frozen in time, surrounded by a sky that is ablaze in corals and reds, and yellows and pinks…. quietly waiting for that miraculous moment…. a tiny flash of green just at the horizon. </strong><br />
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<strong>When I first had the idea for this entry I was going to speak of the Green Flash as a metaphor for life....Noble thoughts about the misguided who await short fleeting moments of perfection while overlooking all the life and lives around them….like the beach people who never saw the wonderful sunsets while they watched for a green glimmer that rarely occurred…..</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2LpE5bDvF17TVzX2qSjr732ujMdgXw1hdPlWDZW3EgT8keoUwHhLMf2WA7Cf8j9tTtcGd77UKOIe-SqqNh-P0aBKFEtq7S8ur7_DXRgdrAe8zw1HMit7Q34kWNzNwCBG7aAVaCbHDpTM/s1600/imagesCA5LZH4S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2LpE5bDvF17TVzX2qSjr732ujMdgXw1hdPlWDZW3EgT8keoUwHhLMf2WA7Cf8j9tTtcGd77UKOIe-SqqNh-P0aBKFEtq7S8ur7_DXRgdrAe8zw1HMit7Q34kWNzNwCBG7aAVaCbHDpTM/s1600/imagesCA5LZH4S.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>And, I…. of course…. was one of the BETTER beach people …. there for the perfection of the sunset….not an elusive, 2 seconds OR LESS, of green light.</strong><br />
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<strong>But then, my 36 year old middle son, Reece, ran 100 miles….on one of the toughest courses in the United States, had never done it before, and ran it well…completing it 6 ½ hours under the 36 hour time allotment.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYBUdV75cqnDRtEKNfbFG5_dNASWJG7n9JMPN1aYpZYh_QXathU2UHvI8UzgJXkg_G0t0gT8Y135LEKKjdK4lK1PGhu0LJxp-VeNPDgHhcC1Rm1qFwQZwQO8-wXAyuanK3u_5GdwJTrM/s1600/381427_10150430130386180_571186179_9989369_1984627578_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYBUdV75cqnDRtEKNfbFG5_dNASWJG7n9JMPN1aYpZYh_QXathU2UHvI8UzgJXkg_G0t0gT8Y135LEKKjdK4lK1PGhu0LJxp-VeNPDgHhcC1Rm1qFwQZwQO8-wXAyuanK3u_5GdwJTrM/s320/381427_10150430130386180_571186179_9989369_1984627578_n.jpg" width="240px" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>He did this despite my protestations that he could injure himself, do internal organ damage, or just DIE! I was NOT an enthusiastic supporter of this goal..In my opinion he was pursuing 2 seconds of green flash…a fleeting…illusive moment in time.. </strong><br />
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<strong>But he DID it! And.... as I was getting up at all hours of the night to check the computer for updates from his crew as he ran this ultra marathon, I realized I had to turn around… and see Reece with new eyes…</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1wsTlipzcJYOhOyFvTCslBqYVTnKwl2EYDbW0eJhjO0rolT1WcmEFzXzesNVH0mzyYXIwXC2KSWhIeo1o7D86tCiVPn9I9-Hd2ESDVbGU_ZTrkyXQNOL9CQDzigRvwxEjJGlIk9uur4/s1600/DSC_3258_GreenRay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1wsTlipzcJYOhOyFvTCslBqYVTnKwl2EYDbW0eJhjO0rolT1WcmEFzXzesNVH0mzyYXIwXC2KSWhIeo1o7D86tCiVPn9I9-Hd2ESDVbGU_ZTrkyXQNOL9CQDzigRvwxEjJGlIk9uur4/s320/DSC_3258_GreenRay.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>What is it like INSIDE the green flash?</strong><br />
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<strong>My son was willing to take some risk. He wasn’t careless. … But what he did was not without the potential for failure. There is a difference in people who live in the GREEN FLASH. …. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xva67rPPl45RdkiiSLNrTL5JEIJ1b5_0nr1_WxmuXwo2tNe_GiI0flhWslm6mPmx9yVxXGhVBSKe4zHaWSI4cFyPwZ2ryUqysnp6HTqLDpG9omPHlXjLIuqRDwQ_LOowE7zHJYYbwNM/s1600/Yelling+Lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xva67rPPl45RdkiiSLNrTL5JEIJ1b5_0nr1_WxmuXwo2tNe_GiI0flhWslm6mPmx9yVxXGhVBSKe4zHaWSI4cFyPwZ2ryUqysnp6HTqLDpG9omPHlXjLIuqRDwQ_LOowE7zHJYYbwNM/s320/Yelling+Lady.jpg" width="178px" /></a></div><strong>Inside the Green Flash the two risks that stop us all in our tracks, the fear of failure and the fear of ridicule, do not exist. …it is recognized when internal thoughts or <span style="font-size: large;">MOTHERS</span> are limiting success.</strong><br />
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<strong>Inside the green flash is the motivation to learn, grow and improve. </strong><br />
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<strong>What is also gained is exposure to new people, thoughts, ideas, practices, philosophies, and opportunities.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GW1vv_H1tEdHM6HIARg6qK25fB-qBF9opKlbtWHeJ7svXyn8u0NSpthmA31cdYKlTHvgK0f5shUVu8lypmkdFdGtZZt18_aQJFzIyOJvZLLrnbbl8CrRDsUiKrrB67qbszBRQ9NsSSQ/s1600/dsc_0457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GW1vv_H1tEdHM6HIARg6qK25fB-qBF9opKlbtWHeJ7svXyn8u0NSpthmA31cdYKlTHvgK0f5shUVu8lypmkdFdGtZZt18_aQJFzIyOJvZLLrnbbl8CrRDsUiKrrB67qbszBRQ9NsSSQ/s320/dsc_0457.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Achieving goals hones strengths which, in turn, aids in adapting to new changes and opportunities quickly.</strong><br />
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<strong>The truth is that nothing is ever achieved in life unless you dare to believe that something inside you is bigger than the circumstances you face.</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJXXF7aw6QF5ZWatRbOqHA8IMrhBUhVrNFQzdYoSFg2hyMjUv7Au1F79pdoLkjDXjYLeBqEKFt39vF0SZ_jmpSXNMkermxv_aLI8KtMeMtbt_YZT3Exhpm5_ueOpK0G_cOt0xl0xyUfY/s1600/383345_10150430131321180_571186179_9989392_1063104881_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJXXF7aw6QF5ZWatRbOqHA8IMrhBUhVrNFQzdYoSFg2hyMjUv7Au1F79pdoLkjDXjYLeBqEKFt39vF0SZ_jmpSXNMkermxv_aLI8KtMeMtbt_YZT3Exhpm5_ueOpK0G_cOt0xl0xyUfY/s320/383345_10150430131321180_571186179_9989392_1063104881_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reece & Jeremy</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<strong> </strong><strong>A goal is an invitation to take a journey. That journey travels inward to face hard realities. Inside the green flash the enemy is only within.</strong><br />
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<strong>Accepting the invitation requires courage and requires acting in spite of fear (or MOTHER).</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG7Pj7op8mW59Ry7NAbWc01TFdomungIp6k2JnQBMrF27Hq3pFRkNVtrtdwh1OO3qI3bf_At8sglbmOoP0SKyxkSRycTO2PmQO8Z8MPLBcIynWq-_gKuQkvOzIouPG429o4t6WNx2bYs/s1600/imagesCAQGEWMJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG7Pj7op8mW59Ry7NAbWc01TFdomungIp6k2JnQBMrF27Hq3pFRkNVtrtdwh1OO3qI3bf_At8sglbmOoP0SKyxkSRycTO2PmQO8Z8MPLBcIynWq-_gKuQkvOzIouPG429o4t6WNx2bYs/s1600/imagesCAQGEWMJ.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>We were created to achieve. We all have very unique gifts, talents, and hidden resources.</strong><br />
<strong>The decision is to do the work….. to decide to make the journey….to go through the struggle...and it is PERSONAL... </strong><br />
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<strong>The triumph is in taking the journey. And the taking of that journey can be life changing.</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxs5ItBzRf_rI8XWDBJlnfpfZCDswPT2t_CYqVonPwm2CpwDPZvE-zj12dGwoHK4KrdBz1AvapTGZds7-irfkWudFO781IrhkwOQer-DRI3kb7twMgnha3pbZVJ4m-n2BnOOF1BG5jNk/s1600/316695_10150368814619214_606569213_7998970_1174193456_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxs5ItBzRf_rI8XWDBJlnfpfZCDswPT2t_CYqVonPwm2CpwDPZvE-zj12dGwoHK4KrdBz1AvapTGZds7-irfkWudFO781IrhkwOQer-DRI3kb7twMgnha3pbZVJ4m-n2BnOOF1BG5jNk/s320/316695_10150368814619214_606569213_7998970_1174193456_n.jpg" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reece and Jeremy crossing the finish line!</td></tr>
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<strong>Success is about what you do with the talent you have. Inside the green flash is the love of the battle, the challenge, the journey. </strong><br />
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<strong>Inside the green flash is the knowledge that you did the best you could to become the best you could be.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhX3KfqIJqRB47RI0F-OKEWf9A3vYVKEiGBxXB5i3lpSeV-ilEOt-iPHdLkF4C-bcv6sotB_slqLju5mS-tgwlOITz8vG_8kRXtmCfYgol78qGxjbIMyWVD7-E7k42nLEgHLlsYrGrtg/s1600/301532_10150430128756180_571186179_9989350_1486460666_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbhX3KfqIJqRB47RI0F-OKEWf9A3vYVKEiGBxXB5i3lpSeV-ilEOt-iPHdLkF4C-bcv6sotB_slqLju5mS-tgwlOITz8vG_8kRXtmCfYgol78qGxjbIMyWVD7-E7k42nLEgHLlsYrGrtg/s320/301532_10150430128756180_571186179_9989350_1486460666_n.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Light continues to travel…it does not stop just because someone is not seeing it.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">" 'Over the edge'...Ah, it's driving me over the bloomin' edge. Sunrises don't set"</span></strong><strong><span style="color: #38761d;"> </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;"> Pirates of the Caribbean </span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-42992367876046220672011-10-12T04:30:00.000-04:002011-10-12T04:30:59.650-04:00LEAVING THE OLD WORLD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjY_zJpHeITfF7skKlExfRcbAgb5c1QTeaTDxasSKJG_R_rQ8ovJiptKqKppIFyvSpxZUDUZMa5iaA5_XxY4RtJxpWaPfuPH-k56Jpf99jsv1825Ff6IUxjGdveohvv3SuFprLv3H3M0/s1600/887237736_21d998106a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjY_zJpHeITfF7skKlExfRcbAgb5c1QTeaTDxasSKJG_R_rQ8ovJiptKqKppIFyvSpxZUDUZMa5iaA5_XxY4RtJxpWaPfuPH-k56Jpf99jsv1825Ff6IUxjGdveohvv3SuFprLv3H3M0/s320/887237736_21d998106a.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World".....</span>Christopher Columbus... August, 1492</span></strong><br />
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<strong>About 20 years ago Berkeley, California, declared Columbus Day abhorrent and invented Indigenous Peoples’ Day!!! It was not long after this declaration that other institutions and governments followed suit.</strong><strong></strong><br />
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<strong>In 1992, the 500th anniversary of Columbus's discovery of America, just saying <span style="font-size: large;">"Columbus's</span> <span style="font-size: large;">discovery of America"</span> was cause for excoriation by the overseers of political correctness. Examples include:</strong><br />
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<strong>The National Council of Churches " an invasion" that led to "genocide, slavery, 'ecocide,' and exploitation." </strong><br />
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<strong>The American Library Association …. “Columbus's arrival heralded "a legacy of European piracy, brutality, slave trading, murder, disease, conquest, and ethnocide." </strong><br />
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<strong>The National Education Association (as many know…my FAVORITE of unions) "never again will Christopher Columbus sit on a pedestal in United States history."</strong><br />
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<strong>To the multiculturalists Columbus is the symbol for all subsequent atrocities that befell Native Americans.</strong><br />
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<strong>Yes…I KNOW…Columbus kidnapped natives for show in Spain (none of them made it alive) on his first voyage, enslaved several hundred Indians on his second visit, and after his third trip faced charges back home of governing as a tyrant. And EVEN WORSE, while at sea, the admiral and his crew ate a dolphin—OH, THE MADNESS!!!</strong><br />
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<strong>Columbus was not a sensitive metrosexual male.</strong><br />
<strong>He was a mariner with many years at sea and a man very much in keeping with the nature of his time.</strong><br />
<strong>It cannot be overlooked that Europe in 1492 was superstitious, interested in slavery, and capable of savagery. This traveled to the Americas with Columbus.</strong><br />
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<strong>But, this explorer also praised some of the tribes he encountered as “gentle,” “full of love,” “without greed,” and “free from wickedness.” …exclaiming, “I believe there is no better race.” …</strong><br />
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<strong>Christopher then described tribal warfare, cannibalism, castration, the exploitation of women, and slavery among many of the other native people.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03fOMLnxR7YpFsXN0zEdDoqgPjzs2BMPj_ks3waZGv8EGmicpJqtL8AwpN4B30PiBzhFdkun9FZcJpdnsvkFPJ9eo6UnnHaPBSsOuHpdxlH4AhBN9dYFPC3uqOY1d8qyheHH8XI7mV7k/s1600/aztecTOT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03fOMLnxR7YpFsXN0zEdDoqgPjzs2BMPj_ks3waZGv8EGmicpJqtL8AwpN4B30PiBzhFdkun9FZcJpdnsvkFPJ9eo6UnnHaPBSsOuHpdxlH4AhBN9dYFPC3uqOY1d8qyheHH8XI7mV7k/s320/aztecTOT.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Just a reminder… at this same time, the Aztecs of Mexico, the Maya, and the Incas of South America performed elaborate rites of human sacrifice, in which thousands of captive Indians were ritually murdered, until their altars were drenched in blood . . . and priests collapsed with exhaustion from stabbing their victims. As Dinesh D'Souza wrote in a 1995 article in the journal First Things. "When men of noble birth died, wives and concubines were often strangled and buried with them."</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijbVyWfSocJQGmIokYVdsZX74VSInwI1lATv9E6rN9al1YI17sOt5IH8rihRtfiJet5x8A6AqtaEqOzMZTuFSu-W8XQvXQHZbxWfGlzS9UyPi1wXB39Wae7lnzGYEXVjEBLUqtPggZ5i0/s1600/Who-Were-the-Aztecs-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijbVyWfSocJQGmIokYVdsZX74VSInwI1lATv9E6rN9al1YI17sOt5IH8rihRtfiJet5x8A6AqtaEqOzMZTuFSu-W8XQvXQHZbxWfGlzS9UyPi1wXB39Wae7lnzGYEXVjEBLUqtPggZ5i0/s320/Who-Were-the-Aztecs-2.jpg" width="214px" /></a></div><strong>NOBODY was noble. </strong><br />
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<strong>But, the politically correct obsession with all Christopher did wrong has obscured his very profound accomplishment:</strong><br />
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<strong>Columbus discovered the New World. He was the man who sowed the seeds of Western civilization in the New World …and YOU dear reader would not be sitting here if he hadn’t.</strong><br />
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<strong>No Indian holy men decried Indian cannibalism and child sacrifice -- just as no Indian mariner sailed east and discovered Europe. Only the culture that made possible an Age of Exploration could make possible the culture that stated, "We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal." </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jzECxIKggAldrj16hYe2_JwQG3wxzCt9L9wMZNKNCotRtNrLBtgzncfYL9CiHfNRJWf4YZTSHKsw60I3m75uEGoTRvmK_qNI18DUJkQxenlE4_MuH4yeuAxlWLKJG-UwLirM-623fdA/s1600/imagesCAVFY0QX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="81px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jzECxIKggAldrj16hYe2_JwQG3wxzCt9L9wMZNKNCotRtNrLBtgzncfYL9CiHfNRJWf4YZTSHKsw60I3m75uEGoTRvmK_qNI18DUJkQxenlE4_MuH4yeuAxlWLKJG-UwLirM-623fdA/s320/imagesCAVFY0QX.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Columbus's glory is not that he discovered America, but that he set in motion the POSSIBILITY of America.</strong><br />
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<strong>While the enslavement and cultural conquest of peoples is common in humanity’s history…. leading the way for discovering two continents is not. Some have even argued that other than Christ, it would be difficult to name a person who changed the world as dramatically as Columbus did.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Columbus endured the skepticism of potential patrons (THEY THOUGHT THE WORLD WAS FLAT!), a near mutiny, and more than a month at sea to reach the Americas. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwn22kZ2SfnvwLB2bBWBN1R_fAjD7utrFwe5onS7iy3fh2RpRFkLczF4Iu7czdZB1-SxjRYVtZ84Iz5Y-0qc6uQeNV7YYMtJ654qOTDKfluS3u3BQiQYSlGN75OvjjIYJzzgxhKoXZFk/s1600/flat-planet-431x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwn22kZ2SfnvwLB2bBWBN1R_fAjD7utrFwe5onS7iy3fh2RpRFkLczF4Iu7czdZB1-SxjRYVtZ84Iz5Y-0qc6uQeNV7YYMtJ654qOTDKfluS3u3BQiQYSlGN75OvjjIYJzzgxhKoXZFk/s320/flat-planet-431x300.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>It is said that the Vikings discovered what became known as America before Columbus, and that Phoenician navigators went to South America. </strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none;"><strong>Even if they did..... SO WHAT? They never came back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nobody else followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never wrote about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never returned to do anything with it.</strong></div><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5f2KJ3MWShGNwDIUewpJsDdSNevg7OhXROr10JrgWGHnW3Enx-zML3kneC1DLq0A2hsM6xZXMJamnSf7q1Zoji1VnoLslGO1kw9vw0n-7fzjOyLyKksWKUV_-6zoz8wsHjSaEenjskQQ/s1600/page3_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5f2KJ3MWShGNwDIUewpJsDdSNevg7OhXROr10JrgWGHnW3Enx-zML3kneC1DLq0A2hsM6xZXMJamnSf7q1Zoji1VnoLslGO1kw9vw0n-7fzjOyLyKksWKUV_-6zoz8wsHjSaEenjskQQ/s320/page3_1.jpg" width="251px" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>It would be a decade before Europeans realized that the lands Columbus had reached were not part of Asia but an entirely different continent. This was due to astronomical observations made by Amerigo Vespucci off the coast of South America.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1s_xb8-kBDdhiKOavDtm1sjFVpg7d5FJv9kzOEq-pcoS8Db9-g6X02YQX-BZZN_WyfEXq80qpnbGNjrMYN_8UC2OsPrxAtPmYeZBOkydJysm2x7_OI-5rlDyJuTB1CZpWRUzGUFWVvc/s1600/ant0213sh-vespucci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1s_xb8-kBDdhiKOavDtm1sjFVpg7d5FJv9kzOEq-pcoS8Db9-g6X02YQX-BZZN_WyfEXq80qpnbGNjrMYN_8UC2OsPrxAtPmYeZBOkydJysm2x7_OI-5rlDyJuTB1CZpWRUzGUFWVvc/s320/ant0213sh-vespucci.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>It is important to remember that without the voyages of Christopher Columbus, Vespucci would have had no opportunity to conclude a "new continent" had been discovered, and the Americas would not have been opened to Europeans at that time in history. </strong><br />
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<strong>History, therefore, would have proceeded along entirely different lines.</strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">BEHIND him lay the gray Azores, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Behind the Gates of Hercules; </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Before him not the ghost of shores, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Before him only shoreless seas. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlN9WrOvA0k-MtaCOIp96UD-kh5AZH3HQ__ZqRyPg05wAExIlt994z_M0I0cZFI6w4BhCBlZQMgxnWZa3sHRPcPhyphenhyphenTzes7YPR5OC1W6J_ldIN0dQOGLNWlQHmGQA5N5GAAZWzWQU-hNnw/s1600/imagesCAR07VRW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlN9WrOvA0k-MtaCOIp96UD-kh5AZH3HQ__ZqRyPg05wAExIlt994z_M0I0cZFI6w4BhCBlZQMgxnWZa3sHRPcPhyphenhyphenTzes7YPR5OC1W6J_ldIN0dQOGLNWlQHmGQA5N5GAAZWzWQU-hNnw/s1600/imagesCAR07VRW.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: blue;">The good mate said: "Now we must pray, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">For lo! the very stars are gone. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?" </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">"Why, say, 'Sail on! sail on! and on!' " </span><br />
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Columbus sailed from Palos, Spain on August 3, 1492. He went to the Canary Islands, and proceeded to the west until he sighted land on October 12, 1492. <br />
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The route chosen by Columbus for return was sailing north on the latitude of Lisbon, and then, as he had suspected, he found favorable winds and current for the voyage home. It was an amazing accomplishment! He was perfectly right and this route towards the Antilles and back became the accepted standard for centuries. Columbus traveled four times to the Antilles.<br />
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<strong><span style="color: blue;">"My men grow mutinous day by day; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">My men grow ghastly wan and weak." </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">The stout mate thought of home; a spray </span></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oanWMbiHEtxpleVNOXnRXAC7w2Jqs8SMzqWezb8BGVFORc9VF6oXx02UbpPZPQKq2n_AaAIeq1mT-eElcl2aKUWZvJ5xXbrj54Rc4rx9neNan2eiZmClFJKE8EzAznPxg3Ioj7jzhww/s1600/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oanWMbiHEtxpleVNOXnRXAC7w2Jqs8SMzqWezb8BGVFORc9VF6oXx02UbpPZPQKq2n_AaAIeq1mT-eElcl2aKUWZvJ5xXbrj54Rc4rx9neNan2eiZmClFJKE8EzAznPxg3Ioj7jzhww/s400/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+05.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><strong><span style="color: blue;">Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">"Why, you shall say at break of day, </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">'Sail on! sail on! and on!' " </span></strong><br />
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He was a great man. Unschooled, he taught himself to read and write, then studied geography, cartography, theology, and cosmography. He went to sea at 14 and became a seaman of extraordinary skill, whose pre-1492 career had taken him north of the Arctic Circle and south nearly to the equator. <br />
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<span style="color: blue;">They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Until at last the blanched mate said: </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">"Why, now not even God would know </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxjAy43Gk9PO_gftXVCMcABYAfC9-hGiyNNCuPeXe5KpEqREHZSFZorFuiDJFoLslCHhblvpjcPA4y2XqLDQF8cYR4WbNI2xSMfw2MZeTgIq_yg4MDaqQY03S95-33dATCsyukECbc64/s1600/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxjAy43Gk9PO_gftXVCMcABYAfC9-hGiyNNCuPeXe5KpEqREHZSFZorFuiDJFoLslCHhblvpjcPA4y2XqLDQF8cYR4WbNI2xSMfw2MZeTgIq_yg4MDaqQY03S95-33dATCsyukECbc64/s400/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+09.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><span style="color: blue;">Should I and all my men fall dead. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">These very winds forget their way, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">For God from these dead seas is gone. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say" -- </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">He said, "Sail on! sail on! and on!" </span><br />
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He was convinced that the Earth curved and was completely focused on the subject of reaching the fabled East by sailing west. For nearly eight years he struggled to find a patron to finance his "Enterprise of the Indies." He was turned down over and over again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IA5R3MxwpOvOSsztZYQZw6sTnyZXzJ_BQZy_zZYSneFhbSkx9Mhp-gCMN2SGAk6oPASWEwU0w3Fzv3ZT-XSigdvxEzeivMTWFaMX4r-RH0ntPum2JqWV_TN40VgmKzYbDV6UNGuu5f0/s1600/fg.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_IA5R3MxwpOvOSsztZYQZw6sTnyZXzJ_BQZy_zZYSneFhbSkx9Mhp-gCMN2SGAk6oPASWEwU0w3Fzv3ZT-XSigdvxEzeivMTWFaMX4r-RH0ntPum2JqWV_TN40VgmKzYbDV6UNGuu5f0/s320/fg.bmp" width="242px" /></a></div>Then…Isabella of Spain finally agreed to stake his venture.<br />
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Christopher Columbus traveled thousands of miles across uncharted ocean with no method but dead reckoning to find his bearings. Columbus sailed without celestial navigation, without longitude, without any reliable way to measure speed. <br />
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It would have been enough that he found his way to the Caribbean and that he found his way back. He repeated this trip three times! If he had discovered nothing, his nautical achievements alone would have earned him a notable place in history.<br />
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Three very small ships…THE NINA, THE PINTA, and THE SANTA MARIA were readied for this trip, without knowing that this would become a voyage that would change everything. The world to follow would be a different world for all of us. <br />
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<span style="color: blue;">They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">He curls his lip, he lies in wait, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">With lifted teeth, as if to bite! </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLntgmy694fj5lcbISwYPUY4j3ADXkTYToOyswF18fZOGlIcJWfgym9OQl4jGap1tjJ3ant6KYs0ekwAtDiDD0vPdDP8phfv8B6GS6CLiY7SKwMVx1_zhggDF8KmEThG0ZiQ3771r2sQ/s1600/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLntgmy694fj5lcbISwYPUY4j3ADXkTYToOyswF18fZOGlIcJWfgym9OQl4jGap1tjJ3ant6KYs0ekwAtDiDD0vPdDP8phfv8B6GS6CLiY7SKwMVx1_zhggDF8KmEThG0ZiQ3771r2sQ/s400/Voyage+of+Columbus+Screenshot+09.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><span style="color: blue;">Brave Admiral, say but one good word: </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">What shall we do when hope is gone?" </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">The words leapt like a leaping sword: </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!" </span><br />
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On board were some of the very distinctive Western qualities that made and continue to make it possible for human beings to rise above their baser notions and enlighten themselves: Columbus came with a thirst for knowledge, and a passion for progress…Sailing with him were also thoughts about natural law and human rights, and a Judeo-Christian ethic of justice and morality.<br />
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We are WHO we are and WHERE we are because of the ideas and enterprise of this man....this EXPLORER .<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEHnC3Q6xb7o16RPET7eIhbOddK7ql4xYjsGP7kDknITZy9zFJBzGRm9aAo7hOIMvsrZeRyUimpJNxoasdE8P9hj-Xt3Z_jycF1_6qC5AzGxToZ1yveB3J6EyfaV-9Lkaz-wvcRZ5aUE/s1600/Soldwedel-Land_Ho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEHnC3Q6xb7o16RPET7eIhbOddK7ql4xYjsGP7kDknITZy9zFJBzGRm9aAo7hOIMvsrZeRyUimpJNxoasdE8P9hj-Xt3Z_jycF1_6qC5AzGxToZ1yveB3J6EyfaV-9Lkaz-wvcRZ5aUE/s400/Soldwedel-Land_Ho.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><br />
To be profitable an idea has to be the cause of actions that will change the direction of the world ….it must call forth <span style="font-size: large;">a paradigm shift</span>. And sometimes the impact of that shift takes many centuries to be realized.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDeaQcpSo8W-yCLx3adrTgluA36ZYj2UJ3p5NOs5iG8NqPYkMc5eKtprbmWGEOU0OEi15xUeqPN2Q4niNMrEFkEGaDCMiCdIiLnrjcBMY_-CQdhQsfiuUIXqr8xfUizVJXSja1fcJTnU/s1600/sailboat-and-waterfall-at-earths-end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDeaQcpSo8W-yCLx3adrTgluA36ZYj2UJ3p5NOs5iG8NqPYkMc5eKtprbmWGEOU0OEi15xUeqPN2Q4niNMrEFkEGaDCMiCdIiLnrjcBMY_-CQdhQsfiuUIXqr8xfUizVJXSja1fcJTnU/s400/sailboat-and-waterfall-at-earths-end.jpg" width="266px" /></a></div><br />
The world, after Christopher Columbus, was never the same. <br />
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Our ideas about navigation and shipbuilding, geography, history, politics, philosophy, botany and other disciplines were forever affected. <br />
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In Christopher Columbus we had proof that the Earth was a sphere. We learned we could travel farther than we ever imagined, we could live in a land that was thought not to exist, we could build new lives based on new ideas… and when we looked to the horizon we did not have see monsters and a deep frightening abyss….we could see a shining promise.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Then pale and worn, he kept his deck, </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">And peered through darkness. Ah, that night </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">Of all dark nights! And then a speck -- </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">A light! A light! At last a light! </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4W4r_rmhZrlQa_2DI0BomOQSAyW3p3IpPZdaUlZOeBTxKhjYf66OQ0J35aUeQnWhsdnvbMTWgtwalJ5rvdMIy5pRUAkregM8pyicPKRmcgePDtb-OmyqSGS-BN3y5j_fUfdTsrlnJrGU/s1600/Earth%252520from%252520space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4W4r_rmhZrlQa_2DI0BomOQSAyW3p3IpPZdaUlZOeBTxKhjYf66OQ0J35aUeQnWhsdnvbMTWgtwalJ5rvdMIy5pRUAkregM8pyicPKRmcgePDtb-OmyqSGS-BN3y5j_fUfdTsrlnJrGU/s400/Earth%252520from%252520space.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">He gained a world; he gave that world </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!" </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">COLUMBUS by Joaquin Miller</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-51805303408313077352011-09-11T05:55:00.000-04:002011-09-11T05:55:20.852-04:00WHAT ABOUT MY DAD, MRS. C.?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8kSOfy81PwPESOsAgQh6TSxjrGpGh5bNOLJduWdHDlmkPTticKZ-rf21L2DF7plOgxG6xs06U4OdwogEY3spurmg-dv7N0jpD79HFADnu8A2hgqfREl9ibY_pvyxc5c_TROtxGBr16I/s1600/silhouette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8kSOfy81PwPESOsAgQh6TSxjrGpGh5bNOLJduWdHDlmkPTticKZ-rf21L2DF7plOgxG6xs06U4OdwogEY3spurmg-dv7N0jpD79HFADnu8A2hgqfREl9ibY_pvyxc5c_TROtxGBr16I/s1600/silhouette.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>September 11, 2001…I was a reading resource teacher at an elementary school in New Mexico. My classroom was a separate portable. My students came to me in small groups from their classes to learn the skills of reading. They ranged from 4th to 6th grade.</strong> <strong>Most of my students just called me Mrs. C.</strong><br />
<strong> </strong><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPca3ZwmGCin-EjgeiQpJqh3R6CWyL8PP9WZWhfRc9WF6a6xHn8fB52M2cqBLFESHudsMrcn8ZszT-RfQaFuKRLDD5iXaPfOxI-h-aR64OwL4717O_b7gK9uZlvNjAhU-XRKIiprw4zo/s1600/imagesCA24BLZV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPca3ZwmGCin-EjgeiQpJqh3R6CWyL8PP9WZWhfRc9WF6a6xHn8fB52M2cqBLFESHudsMrcn8ZszT-RfQaFuKRLDD5iXaPfOxI-h-aR64OwL4717O_b7gK9uZlvNjAhU-XRKIiprw4zo/s1600/imagesCA24BLZV.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>That year had already been one of upheaval for me. My husband of 32 years left that April. My children were grown and out of the house.....spread out between three states. My middle son was in the military reserves. My daughter had just given birth to my first grandchild...a girl, Erin. My parents were in Kentucky, my brothers in Illinois and Idaho. </strong><br />
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<strong> I was very much alone in rural New Mexico.. </strong><br />
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<strong>There was a group of us that always arrived at school before 7 a.m. I was standing outside our young counselor’s office discussing the anticipated arrival of her husband, who had been on an extended business trip. His plane had taken off an hour before. Someone bumped my shoulder in passing saying that a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTVkoqnEFYPJvID8cj-zx7Z-lvgEGW5JDxv60UBk85Jy6-RV_5GN8h7ufUmY5cwlSPVjZq9MzuKBoULvE-P0I97n6Asn-HA3mQwp-ckDPmV2rKzSJJj46Ri7GUMltJhOeQm8ovRI-cng/s1600/F_48463_plane_sunset_g_320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTVkoqnEFYPJvID8cj-zx7Z-lvgEGW5JDxv60UBk85Jy6-RV_5GN8h7ufUmY5cwlSPVjZq9MzuKBoULvE-P0I97n6Asn-HA3mQwp-ckDPmV2rKzSJJj46Ri7GUMltJhOeQm8ovRI-cng/s1600/F_48463_plane_sunset_g_320.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Our library was in the center of the school surrounded by glass walls…I could look down the hall and see our group starting to gather there. New Mexico is 2 hours behind New York…we had lots of time to check this out. The counselor and I went to join with the rest of the early arrival teachers to see what had happened.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQwpkDZUMDMbj1RLkm87gnYOd_DODhaOO-WJW2stGAy1GRoTsU7J85HjiDbg3bImEyocbLPPpgvNVuTM4yP3uJ-l5fnYSJ36Bn_6mTshAvYw0l3TlNdUa04T43QMx73fO7lJZ67CMYRg/s1600/richter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQwpkDZUMDMbj1RLkm87gnYOd_DODhaOO-WJW2stGAy1GRoTsU7J85HjiDbg3bImEyocbLPPpgvNVuTM4yP3uJ-l5fnYSJ36Bn_6mTshAvYw0l3TlNdUa04T43QMx73fO7lJZ67CMYRg/s320/richter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>At that time the Twin Towers barely registered on my radar. But as we watched we saw the 2nd plane hit…. this was an attack. Then the crash into the Pentagon was announced. By that time our principal had arrived. He was saying that we had to go on with our day and to just teach. We had to keep the children calm and unaware of what had happened. He said we should not turn on the TVs in our rooms.</strong><br />
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<strong>The bell rang….</strong><br />
<strong>The principal meant well but he did not consider, that by the time the kids arrived, most had already seen the attack on TV before they got to school. Some parents kept their children home…but most came.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu9scUAx0RHbkvi6sXbvwgNVjphEfA_pqLb4S_DNP-ZU1G12o-6qR_jw7O9sSz3pHMLQ3purKbtfG48eRgOFf-pPky_zWP27H-hWXBuX469jiXNhuGw3WlOmBovi6aPTxVecYPv0sm70/s1600/Rupert-Silhouette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu9scUAx0RHbkvi6sXbvwgNVjphEfA_pqLb4S_DNP-ZU1G12o-6qR_jw7O9sSz3pHMLQ3purKbtfG48eRgOFf-pPky_zWP27H-hWXBuX469jiXNhuGw3WlOmBovi6aPTxVecYPv0sm70/s1600/Rupert-Silhouette.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>My my first group of five students came through my door. All were full of questions. They were scared and confused about what was happening. Among them was Steven. </strong><br />
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<strong>Steven was a strikingly handsome 5th grade boy with green eyes and sandy hair. He was bright, curious, intuitive and dyslexic. His parents had just gone through a bitter divorce. His father was a fighter pilot in the Air Force and currently based in California. Steven and his dad were very close…this separation had been terrible for both of them.</strong><br />
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<strong>Steven kept looking at the blank TV while maintaining a constant rocking motion in his chair. I touched him on his shoulder … he just looked at me and blurted out, <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">WHAT ABOUT MY DAD MRS. C.? I HAVE TO KNOW! </span></strong><br />
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<strong>The other kids at the table agreed with him. What was going on?</strong><br />
<strong>So…..considering that my principal had NEVER visited my portable..... I took a chance, defied orders, and turned on the TV. </strong><br />
<strong>We could only get ABC. Peter Jennings was in his shirt sleeves, looking very haggard, and telling us what was happening in real time. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCk-b1xan24hZah8Cl1GY5x-RZ4nJwgQcBGc1B9pYEeM3T92Llctmyg-4wjvbdiMtTvzqieCc_JBi1xNG-FUntH5XPmgrffMFpWrwQ1RKr5SV0tcrmPxU4-onHgnLK_rUj9M_Wb8Z8Nog/s1600/imagesCAX84683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCk-b1xan24hZah8Cl1GY5x-RZ4nJwgQcBGc1B9pYEeM3T92Llctmyg-4wjvbdiMtTvzqieCc_JBi1xNG-FUntH5XPmgrffMFpWrwQ1RKr5SV0tcrmPxU4-onHgnLK_rUj9M_Wb8Z8Nog/s1600/imagesCAX84683.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>We sat, the five kids and me, watching. And as we watched they asked:</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red;">WHO MRS. C?</span> (Al Qaeda, Osama Bin Laden ..probably..(I still do not know how I knew that) )</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red;">WHY MRS. C.?</span> ( Evil…that is their only reason…evil wants to hurt)</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red;">WHERE MRS. C.?</span> (New York City, Washington DC, Pennsylvania)</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red;">ARE THEY COMING HERE MRS. C.?</span> (No, they wanted to hurt places that stood for our success, and protection, and freedom…we are too small…you are safe)</strong><br />
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<strong>And all the while Steven sat next to me holding my hand under the table. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwu_vH-6n1_bo7Rhwq4ppIaCMewD7hY2n4PczDksqi9uTdVPRkBYs-lDnHHnbT4k4ZxN8GszQXmy3Jhhr-gxk1eZIXbLrzdB-V04GiscGMOV3UfW0RIHz1dDR6CcterQ09viBwT45xKTw/s1600/imagesCAY8LN9F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwu_vH-6n1_bo7Rhwq4ppIaCMewD7hY2n4PczDksqi9uTdVPRkBYs-lDnHHnbT4k4ZxN8GszQXmy3Jhhr-gxk1eZIXbLrzdB-V04GiscGMOV3UfW0RIHz1dDR6CcterQ09viBwT45xKTw/s1600/imagesCAY8LN9F.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The bell rang…time for the next group to come in. Steven looked at me, reluctantly let go of my hand, and slowly left. </strong><br />
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<strong>As the kids arrived they saw the TV on and all just sat down at the table. They had the same questions…and asked why their teachers did not have the TV on like me? I told them that nobody wanted them to be upset. One little girl, Gabby, said, <span style="color: red;">IT IS BETTER TO KNOW</span>. I told her I thought so too.</strong><br />
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<strong>Then my phone rang. It was Steven’s teacher. She told me that he wanted to come back to me because he was worried about his dad. She tried to call his mother but there was no answer. She said he refused to go to the counselor...he just wanted Mrs. C. He could not concentrate on his work…she asked if it would be a problem…I told her to send him. Odd how none of the kids told that I had the TV on.</strong><br />
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<strong>So Steven returned… sat down next to me…took hold of my hand …and asked again,<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: red;">WHAT ABOUT MY DAD MRS. C.?</span></span></strong><br />
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<strong>I told him his father was a protector. The planes that were crashing were passenger planes, not fighter jets. I said that it was his dad’s job to fight these terrible people and that he was a hero for wanting to do that. I told him his father was REALLY good at his job and it would keep him safe. And I told him that his father would feel how much Steven loved him because we were sitting here... holding hands... and thinking powerful thoughts about him..</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDuJh2Rj3nEIW4CukhCbhJX7QDBSCaBQcyfPMLydqF427a_eMqGgABNIljqoVCC8ZN3WDjcttqwhELzenVvMJy_ti6sVFpDGS7N-kd6SddLkmFGNESVZRzpVvlOXknhp3Br7gGg5yJPf0/s1600/20090911a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDuJh2Rj3nEIW4CukhCbhJX7QDBSCaBQcyfPMLydqF427a_eMqGgABNIljqoVCC8ZN3WDjcttqwhELzenVvMJy_ti6sVFpDGS7N-kd6SddLkmFGNESVZRzpVvlOXknhp3Br7gGg5yJPf0/s320/20090911a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Steven stayed with me all that day. My small groups of students filed in and out…all with questions about what they were seeing. We watched together and I tried to help them make sense out of this terrible day and to calm their anxieties with information about what they were seeing. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1AKOfpgTS1JyZwA249VaZp9sje2hENMBbovGRb9tnhw0g9xTSyu8IUizO9Ipc69KO_Aa20vBVFB2h8RehOIBUubWAIVKTNWTvJtw4MF8PBRBww0_-RwSb91UNQV4hNEgbs8m0GPfcHQ/s1600/imagesCA16MEDY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1AKOfpgTS1JyZwA249VaZp9sje2hENMBbovGRb9tnhw0g9xTSyu8IUizO9Ipc69KO_Aa20vBVFB2h8RehOIBUubWAIVKTNWTvJtw4MF8PBRBww0_-RwSb91UNQV4hNEgbs8m0GPfcHQ/s1600/imagesCA16MEDY.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>During lunch I got calls from the lunch aides…some of my students had asked to eat in Mrs. C.s room….was that ok? So they filed in and we sat with our trays of school lunch and watched the buildings in rubble, and the people covered in ash, and the stricken looks on the first responders. NONE of the kids had said anything to anybody about me having the TV on.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_wAx1rc83D0V-xinvTkl-KkzJMXwYRUPT9_Bj_KdOKgw3qUfrHL05yFjwcBaKo571-DWGTX8wfe8ABl_wmLZ7xfNG_vFC0pEKH9HvwkZN26k_EvJqtOQQjmOaeQ2sUldrg0Ko6NUICw/s1600/090511_met_paintin_1105784c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_wAx1rc83D0V-xinvTkl-KkzJMXwYRUPT9_Bj_KdOKgw3qUfrHL05yFjwcBaKo571-DWGTX8wfe8ABl_wmLZ7xfNG_vFC0pEKH9HvwkZN26k_EvJqtOQQjmOaeQ2sUldrg0Ko6NUICw/s320/090511_met_paintin_1105784c.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>And the whole time Steven just held onto my hand.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BH7q1pwaCm2VKx1ccoJ3WuUQvbgTDxcj9qrelXHW5FSmzV1nHHZ4x8ozh2E1Rs7IiAho1bvltyOycIVLK6N_Fjpb_ZHQNeT8a9dBPCFPotXdrEiRbCLceXo3oRCyS76tOBZV9sWt1i4/s1600/reaching_hands_med.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BH7q1pwaCm2VKx1ccoJ3WuUQvbgTDxcj9qrelXHW5FSmzV1nHHZ4x8ozh2E1Rs7IiAho1bvltyOycIVLK6N_Fjpb_ZHQNeT8a9dBPCFPotXdrEiRbCLceXo3oRCyS76tOBZV9sWt1i4/s1600/reaching_hands_med.jpg" /></a></div><strong>At the end of the day I walked Steven out to the bus loop. He was still holding my hand. He finally let go as he stepped up to board the bus. But he turned and asked one more time….</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqREoXbqTcyIw6S5l6jbN9P_4z3zruIN-MNS7tKhKZl5m8ZAYdDpAd4n2DkazVxkqMLibiuHR7pVxOkS8_BCOMpFEyyALGQpRj9uNlJUXH_Y14BjzYDZDc288d6pwQU41o2guoE4UYaE/s1600/imagesCAS8E0DG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqREoXbqTcyIw6S5l6jbN9P_4z3zruIN-MNS7tKhKZl5m8ZAYdDpAd4n2DkazVxkqMLibiuHR7pVxOkS8_BCOMpFEyyALGQpRj9uNlJUXH_Y14BjzYDZDc288d6pwQU41o2guoE4UYaE/s1600/imagesCAS8E0DG.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">MY DAD, MRS.C…HE‘S OK RIGHT?</span> I said, I KNOW he is ok Steven. He will call you as soon as he is able. Don't worry if it is not right away…he is a soldier and has to do his duty first. Steven just nodded and got on the bus.</strong><br />
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<strong>The school day was over…our counselor’s husband’s plane had been grounded, along with every other plane flying over America. He was safe, but did not know when he would get back. I went home. I called my kids, my parents, and my brothers...we all tried to connect and reassure each other over the distance that separated us..</strong><br />
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<strong> I turned on the TV, and with my three dogs curled beside me, watched, alone, as the horrors of 9/11 continued to unfold. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-YXUDjdus21q8sMMJKsEAVjmcnitDywAKWvOL3MdPrBh9DVzm4k6vSuoDsaBou9NEJJnUbRbe0ryUri6NOfUcLYKd1CUOejz-h4_mqxhXJdgGg2llHhhXBjAtdQiOJFdXvhg5S5ff2M/s1600/The+Hour+of+Islam+9-11-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-YXUDjdus21q8sMMJKsEAVjmcnitDywAKWvOL3MdPrBh9DVzm4k6vSuoDsaBou9NEJJnUbRbe0ryUri6NOfUcLYKd1CUOejz-h4_mqxhXJdgGg2llHhhXBjAtdQiOJFdXvhg5S5ff2M/s320/The+Hour+of+Islam+9-11-01.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>That evening the phone rang….it was Steven’s mother. All she said was that Steven had to talk to me.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">YOU WERE RIGHT MRS.C.! MY DAD JUST CALLED! HE’S OK! HE SAID HE KNEW I WAS THINKING ABOUT HIM! HE FELT ME IN HIS HEART MRS. C.!</span> </span></strong><br />
<strong>I told Steven how happy I was to hear this good news...I told him tomorrow was going to be a good day…</strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">YES IT IS MRS.C.! GOOD BYE MRS.C! YOU'RE MY REALLY BEST TEACHER MRS.C.! </span></strong><br />
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<strong>Steven’s mother got back on the phone and said Steven told her how I never let go of his hand (she was crying)…I did not tell her that he also never let go of mine.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdjaqlfVc_LmxSR2Mvdcm_E1RmdF_rpDJZVG9AEsv5FU-C_m2S3mcPSoHNyhPnbNYlkXK21nbXEA81zLdOORdhlrHA1hdiUKUx5__CZm3meEF5Jnet2pNKaIbU5RAI00-9dnSGRFHxaw/s1600/3890078-silhouettes-of-mother-and-son-at-sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdjaqlfVc_LmxSR2Mvdcm_E1RmdF_rpDJZVG9AEsv5FU-C_m2S3mcPSoHNyhPnbNYlkXK21nbXEA81zLdOORdhlrHA1hdiUKUx5__CZm3meEF5Jnet2pNKaIbU5RAI00-9dnSGRFHxaw/s1600/3890078-silhouettes-of-mother-and-son-at-sunset.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Steven learned to read. He moved the following year. I never saw him again. He would be about 20 years old now. I know he remembers.</strong><br />
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<strong> But what Steven will never know is this.... On September 11, 2001, his hand, clinging to mine, was the only meaningful human touch I had..… it was all and everything good on a very, VERY bad day.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0g7duG7YlNpuJzaHH2LGgn7uu28rP32_20BND79bpFTXE-g218iR7Dc4GKLWuoIL8OrHH7vNKkE_qIZN1JCYhyWdRHZCjHZZjWIZtzsemc6FOdYx7X7z-XGKogZ_c8uaGrD4aswnQ5Y/s1600/big_hands_713x481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0g7duG7YlNpuJzaHH2LGgn7uu28rP32_20BND79bpFTXE-g218iR7Dc4GKLWuoIL8OrHH7vNKkE_qIZN1JCYhyWdRHZCjHZZjWIZtzsemc6FOdYx7X7z-XGKogZ_c8uaGrD4aswnQ5Y/s400/big_hands_713x481.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-90523165154791790482011-08-31T21:53:00.003-04:002012-01-09T05:23:45.979-05:00THE "I" OF THE STORM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSE89RdSZyJnkdqk5o3YyF2SJgnbjehhzuPpzAcvJ06Yeb8ersrNipkjyHYevAuZdgbEl3q8Q-PLBwVe5tJ2uk3dLh0CSyJcUsrLWs63_X3jvamHGGbr37unf7edkcJ1jEzXjuiO-_Cc/s1600/eye_of_the_storm_hurricane_elena_september_1_1985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSE89RdSZyJnkdqk5o3YyF2SJgnbjehhzuPpzAcvJ06Yeb8ersrNipkjyHYevAuZdgbEl3q8Q-PLBwVe5tJ2uk3dLh0CSyJcUsrLWs63_X3jvamHGGbr37unf7edkcJ1jEzXjuiO-_Cc/s320/eye_of_the_storm_hurricane_elena_september_1_1985.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong>2005 was a record year for hurricanes in the western hemisphere, with 13 named storms hitting the continental United States alone. Hurricane Wilma <span style="font-size: large;">(the forgotten one)</span> was the last of these storms, making landfall in Southwest Florida, just south of Naples, on Monday, October 24, 2005 with winds of 125 mph. </strong><br />
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<strong> Wilma was the most intense tropical cyclone ever recorded in the Atlantic basin.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatfs4xV8Whvuj7FQIW_P7G2uBPcQElpSSQAJEGUP0NJ-SJIMvRV4J_Fi7cnTuSQxiYSxPVxm74tm5mlpIIiDOjN1ihjJpFF4e56o1Whz_U3JHTgSWGp2woFRhsfTcLguXxm4Ytj4vXXg/s1600/imagesCAPCRCDI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatfs4xV8Whvuj7FQIW_P7G2uBPcQElpSSQAJEGUP0NJ-SJIMvRV4J_Fi7cnTuSQxiYSxPVxm74tm5mlpIIiDOjN1ihjJpFF4e56o1Whz_U3JHTgSWGp2woFRhsfTcLguXxm4Ytj4vXXg/s1600/imagesCAPCRCDI.jpg" xaa="true" /></a><br />
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<strong>Wilma was the twenty-second storm, the thirteenth hurricane, the sixth major hurricane, and the fourth Category 5 hurricane of the record-breaking 2005 season. </strong><br />
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<strong>Wilma is ranked among the top five most costly hurricanes ever recorded in the Atlantic and the fourth most costly storm in United States history. Over 60 people were killed by the time it was over.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfSnAkMXnYUYnLGBJ8fLxALX6q9iSyX8cyKS0l0Q_fzHgf3OwTenLrX2QrNrIHq3Af-xZ09zrOJd5NQ8kTREwePMHy8PxpksBQn1fPUby7wG03vuLpuTXe7rQkXHIVOwcB_NL5e43pf4/s1600/WILMA-track.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfSnAkMXnYUYnLGBJ8fLxALX6q9iSyX8cyKS0l0Q_fzHgf3OwTenLrX2QrNrIHq3Af-xZ09zrOJd5NQ8kTREwePMHy8PxpksBQn1fPUby7wG03vuLpuTXe7rQkXHIVOwcB_NL5e43pf4/s320/WILMA-track.gif" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Due to significant damage in Mexico and Florida, the name Wilma was officially retired in April 2006 by the World Meteorological Organization, and will never be used for an Atlantic storm again. It was replaced by Whitney on List III of the Atlantic hurricane naming lists which is used next in the 2011 season. This also made Wilma the first W name to be retired in the Atlantic basin.</strong><br />
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<strong>On Sunday, the 23rd of October 2005, my mother, 3 dogs, and I evacuated to Haines City which is between Tampa and Orlando. I remember driving out of my community on that perfect Florida morning...all the flowers in bright colors, the waving palms, and a clear, clear day. We were rather stunned to be having to do this so late in the hurricane season.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpe9MB4ZXBdyyweXJ36feDyywCuNbiVNhZUp6nsMz_VKIt5qSLZWtwzPVO4eqK2-GAwsij3bU9TGvC8ScqFkvjnO72IMZcXvtmH2-FZuS1soX28rqttBgnZTBuu27Lwp1H44w2WDDGGPM/s1600/5th_Avenue__Naples%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpe9MB4ZXBdyyweXJ36feDyywCuNbiVNhZUp6nsMz_VKIt5qSLZWtwzPVO4eqK2-GAwsij3bU9TGvC8ScqFkvjnO72IMZcXvtmH2-FZuS1soX28rqttBgnZTBuu27Lwp1H44w2WDDGGPM/s320/5th_Avenue__Naples%25283%2529.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong> We stayed at the Howard Johnson's with what appeared to be most of the population of Naples and Marco Island and their various dogs and cats... (the motel allowed pets during emergencies). </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_4BuA5TjaWLOqwo0vN9sfNOILAhgiDPosj5OaWdYDLCAaRJFn9BtpnoyoichLiAh1vbji2boU7UhxOAosIZDi6WGdvG44ZmAmRj45BTaYOmI2gbTZMhykjxPvRKtN_j2FfqTe6Nu8pk/s1600/imagesCAYISKJJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG_4BuA5TjaWLOqwo0vN9sfNOILAhgiDPosj5OaWdYDLCAaRJFn9BtpnoyoichLiAh1vbji2boU7UhxOAosIZDi6WGdvG44ZmAmRj45BTaYOmI2gbTZMhykjxPvRKtN_j2FfqTe6Nu8pk/s1600/imagesCAYISKJJ.jpg" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong></strong><strong>As it turned out Wilma was so massive that we spent the night and Monday in a violent tropical storm. We had not gone far enough north.... Wilma covered the entire state.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG8mprcwCEzVh1Tjlstt2xHuM3vqzHe8_Sd_yUwkZIVKAdwoSWoR-Y6GT3Tat0x3dmMQ6LXfmvatMouuBXSAK6vnzCeCmbjy0wdanzrGiFYCvDbhOnMdesPVtLdUFHT0Q31cPFDes_wU/s1600/C61-14-SambA-B-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHG8mprcwCEzVh1Tjlstt2xHuM3vqzHe8_Sd_yUwkZIVKAdwoSWoR-Y6GT3Tat0x3dmMQ6LXfmvatMouuBXSAK6vnzCeCmbjy0wdanzrGiFYCvDbhOnMdesPVtLdUFHT0Q31cPFDes_wU/s320/C61-14-SambA-B-01.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong>We drove back on Tuesday morning not knowing what we would find.</strong><br />
<strong>Davis Avenue, one of our main streets, looked like a war zone. All the telephone poles were down, the palms were ripped up, and the signals were out. All the flowers were gone. On many buildings and metal light poles the paint had been stripped down to the primer by the wind.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoslS6vD0pGn0chR2F6dYLOuLki5teldwXxHU_2R4CvZu6NpGzYJn9zY3CboJ5K-5411La3VN0MuZsDy4POep_XYZbR5IzWj3IAJ6wFzEJIyEY0lEuXf2ryG2mX7BH5YCOeqRbz-aFgg/s1600/cf.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhoslS6vD0pGn0chR2F6dYLOuLki5teldwXxHU_2R4CvZu6NpGzYJn9zY3CboJ5K-5411La3VN0MuZsDy4POep_XYZbR5IzWj3IAJ6wFzEJIyEY0lEuXf2ryG2mX7BH5YCOeqRbz-aFgg/s1600/cf.bmp" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Neither one of us knew what we would find when we arrived at our homes. As it turned out all was ok. My cul de sac had stood up to the storm and so did my mother's villa. </strong><br />
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<strong>My mother was lucky...her home is on the government emergency grid so she still had power...the rest of us did not. My half of my community would be among the very last to regain our electricity over a week and a half l later. We were grateful that this was late in the season and air conditioning was not needed.....it made a huge difference.</strong><br />
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<strong>Debris was everywhere. But that afternoon all of us were out cleaning up. There were mountains of debris lining all the streets for weeks. On some streets throughout Naples there was not a roof that did not have a blue tarp on it..we joked about it...and were guiltily glad that it was not our house.</strong><br />
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<strong> We helped each other....and we reached out to help the poorest in our county. Those areas were hit particularly hard. I always look back with pride at the way Florida handled all these storms.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>But it damaged all of us to greater or lesser degrees. As the 2006 hurricane season approached the anxiety level rose. All year long people talked about Wilma...in stores, on the golf course, in restaurants, on the street. Radio announcements started occurring about support lines that could be accessed for anxiety and depression brought on by the storms. There were public service spots targeting children who had become fearful of rain and thunder.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6JlL7krnQvjMwQtQDtlhLIilCzjnHoySNb6XpwslTPFZK3vMkI1n3R15RTuZwDozjS_8UyeuI7ZD-Lkli7d_dGvX96T6rFeWmZV7Wf6rIgzKMwALTpQz4nHLeP903_Bp-HX3n_q5XtU/s1600/donwright47.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6JlL7krnQvjMwQtQDtlhLIilCzjnHoySNb6XpwslTPFZK3vMkI1n3R15RTuZwDozjS_8UyeuI7ZD-Lkli7d_dGvX96T6rFeWmZV7Wf6rIgzKMwALTpQz4nHLeP903_Bp-HX3n_q5XtU/s400/donwright47.gif" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div>Then the first tropical waves started to appear in the Atlantic and we held our collective breath. These storms damage more than property and livelihoods. They become the terrorist in your psyche.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUmr5U3X6L8Pxs84jqNZSdcORCsjUbqUEtcsOoSTrEudJ_2IEfWHX8EbkrDMDQ5bC4ac71P7tprOPpU9CLt9RYqR41r3FjtqMspatn7sKgv4yHkLvMe8-jUx1gxDRRKddUumvM2X6R3s/s1600/media_httpsoulhikerco_jvJto_jpg_scaled500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUmr5U3X6L8Pxs84jqNZSdcORCsjUbqUEtcsOoSTrEudJ_2IEfWHX8EbkrDMDQ5bC4ac71P7tprOPpU9CLt9RYqR41r3FjtqMspatn7sKgv4yHkLvMe8-jUx1gxDRRKddUumvM2X6R3s/s320/media_httpsoulhikerco_jvJto_jpg_scaled500.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>I wrote this in June of 2006 after returning home from the grocery store. I had stood in line with about six other people and all we discussed was the state of the Atlantic... the new wave....I saw that all had the same look on their faces and the same fear in their voices.....the same look that I knew was on my face...the same fear that was in my voice......it never goes away....</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">POST TRAUMATIC</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkwCa29vscodQ0VD0XTtdAlK4hvH0MMKJAMftBaz55LdD7Ykuas0TgCbJnR89fhIdHEgOMo4cOZ0MqQ9ptkkH52NIKHyWIUvNVRgd9vK0ZuQa4Yf55_qRdPgiIIDuD9AhauF_mWgvkr4/s1600/eye-of-the-storm-4d2fc8ce9da11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkwCa29vscodQ0VD0XTtdAlK4hvH0MMKJAMftBaz55LdD7Ykuas0TgCbJnR89fhIdHEgOMo4cOZ0MqQ9ptkkH52NIKHyWIUvNVRgd9vK0ZuQa4Yf55_qRdPgiIIDuD9AhauF_mWgvkr4/s320/eye-of-the-storm-4d2fc8ce9da11.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">We have hurricane eyes. </span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZ75QU9xwH_0GfZ6XKFTBnTroTxe1QiCnHQJgtEDXtPOW77gziDZ9sLi3OSbozeWBCAEGL177BnuJZXfC9cOLb7UoyHoSxUTUeURr_DwCRI70F_froF8iOWggKLQDDKKQR0TNAoi9Ahg/s1600/fgh.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZ75QU9xwH_0GfZ6XKFTBnTroTxe1QiCnHQJgtEDXtPOW77gziDZ9sLi3OSbozeWBCAEGL177BnuJZXfC9cOLb7UoyHoSxUTUeURr_DwCRI70F_froF8iOWggKLQDDKKQR0TNAoi9Ahg/s1600/fgh.bmp" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">We recognize each other as we stand in line to buy our water and batteries amongst the blue-tarped roofs and dying palms.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24hJvS-8YDhJs6g1w0AG_xQjuGNElo7rNXMV-Qar0k-AwCDzMQRo5c0nNaWbbYriTjdtHKdQKpoL8LvodGTQ9p1QLwzzQfBA0byTEqItRvYOgJayL3qgW16SB8C6TuRa8jRp3MgUPwa4/s1600/ty.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi24hJvS-8YDhJs6g1w0AG_xQjuGNElo7rNXMV-Qar0k-AwCDzMQRo5c0nNaWbbYriTjdtHKdQKpoL8LvodGTQ9p1QLwzzQfBA0byTEqItRvYOgJayL3qgW16SB8C6TuRa8jRp3MgUPwa4/s1600/ty.bmp" xaa="true" /></a></div><strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">The season is upon us again.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">That, now so familiar, cold niggle of fear returns like worms in our bellies as we watch the first tropical wave crawl across the Atlantic.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQI6HzaeZI7hAfcozu5cyU5_T2wwSZyFi_dbXg7MPXpKFPGE1CSfnWd4DvU10jzkv7g_JvQ3qf_CCf12PXvwGWN2SUWZ0P1W27JWFDNMDlJ_ADtXNpkcvo792UPI6d76QfxCrk9gNPtxI/s1600/Waves_in_Atlantic_thumbnail_t320_240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQI6HzaeZI7hAfcozu5cyU5_T2wwSZyFi_dbXg7MPXpKFPGE1CSfnWd4DvU10jzkv7g_JvQ3qf_CCf12PXvwGWN2SUWZ0P1W27JWFDNMDlJ_ADtXNpkcvo792UPI6d76QfxCrk9gNPtxI/s1600/Waves_in_Atlantic_thumbnail_t320_240.jpg" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">Devastation as entertainment, the media records the events, enthralled by the force, but leaves us to recover unnoticed.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6YXGjbgpEk-IVMLQXuSSePFdFXgJcceKSF-PnwNIVSrcxnk3BA26ZJ4I3gAAfSGTmtEvti3duazxNyJQBPc0KmkpW5nuL0WsoXeP8r_QBclTOETOMwsaISJSRiukhNxSeH0M6D9bDFs/s1600/vb.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6YXGjbgpEk-IVMLQXuSSePFdFXgJcceKSF-PnwNIVSrcxnk3BA26ZJ4I3gAAfSGTmtEvti3duazxNyJQBPc0KmkpW5nuL0WsoXeP8r_QBclTOETOMwsaISJSRiukhNxSeH0M6D9bDFs/s1600/vb.bmp" xaa="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">It is still broken here and the storms gather like wolves.</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamy_bLo7XAS8g_VADkwz0rGcVNJPTe27f-vbiZWF-lBvMWd-wo2FheZVI4ZE_FOpX2JL3lOgo3wuDt2rw1x-T687tNn2n1grb7m8J6db9Acj1jtR5uVDs3Aa1TFUPMG8oCiKIiuXdYyE/s1600/imagesCAZWRLXG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamy_bLo7XAS8g_VADkwz0rGcVNJPTe27f-vbiZWF-lBvMWd-wo2FheZVI4ZE_FOpX2JL3lOgo3wuDt2rw1x-T687tNn2n1grb7m8J6db9Acj1jtR5uVDs3Aa1TFUPMG8oCiKIiuXdYyE/s1600/imagesCAZWRLXG.jpg" xaa="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">We have hurricane eyes.....</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQpgDcy3WXiRgcHcBLp1dMeRD71kKIJq3Um4iDs_QSm0a5igqDQTQwrR6fA4zhakmWDT-tsRoMPwAWDkkoTiSBiaABRTxp7K2aozQ3WXl8Zxzy02W5Q8q_77AhLnlDWu1YiNjEAXjXr0/s1600/blue-eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoQpgDcy3WXiRgcHcBLp1dMeRD71kKIJq3Um4iDs_QSm0a5igqDQTQwrR6fA4zhakmWDT-tsRoMPwAWDkkoTiSBiaABRTxp7K2aozQ3WXl8Zxzy02W5Q8q_77AhLnlDWu1YiNjEAXjXr0/s320/blue-eye.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-21502600018523461312011-08-21T07:59:00.001-04:002011-08-23T04:54:57.899-04:00THE SITUATION ROOM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYlbNrpclyiheaygI-tFUxto0vD_ooxkO05_s8t8lT7J8ZGuQdYr6AM_8FjuF4rxwr3KcithsKbOR17rVKnGyhS6lpeqdu3uIjwmcMdwiJzKR-Wh38h9rutKu_6H0J5jqRczpM_fQVwc/s1600/clown_with_dancing_dogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYlbNrpclyiheaygI-tFUxto0vD_ooxkO05_s8t8lT7J8ZGuQdYr6AM_8FjuF4rxwr3KcithsKbOR17rVKnGyhS6lpeqdu3uIjwmcMdwiJzKR-Wh38h9rutKu_6H0J5jqRczpM_fQVwc/s400/clown_with_dancing_dogs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>If you have read my last two blog entries then you already know that I lost BOTH my dogs within one week of each other ( in other words…they DIED). </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFGd78WHGaJ9WQ1n_7Cg-6XPCv9fCb25wFQHNvTNiCyhfzmj2SX8AjigUPrng6f2koYpfWwRxipYTKd5LNj0qClycLxJDoOPpexAYSeqIROERXCJR6GdvuIGcT_azAsN9Wg8kzKXZZs4/s1600/article-page-main_ehow_images_a04_qn_k3_severe-depression-800x800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFGd78WHGaJ9WQ1n_7Cg-6XPCv9fCb25wFQHNvTNiCyhfzmj2SX8AjigUPrng6f2koYpfWwRxipYTKd5LNj0qClycLxJDoOPpexAYSeqIROERXCJR6GdvuIGcT_azAsN9Wg8kzKXZZs4/s1600/article-page-main_ehow_images_a04_qn_k3_severe-depression-800x800.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Since then I have been experiencing what is cleverly called SITUATIONAL DEPRESSION…I guess because my SITUATION has been REALLY depressing! </strong><br />
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<strong>The question has been …. how do I get through the depression until I get used to my new situation…which is a house completely devoid of another living thing.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2-JMFdC95bEE6vwBznsMxxMDW0cuHxrYRki7fstrlASVGbu-z4JsvYjhUTcGNrqpzll3KNdjUh33MvNFNFJv5vtBHDU3S0yBE1oWsF3s6EVrkhQetGqci_0OZCNypBI65nYf04N0UGs/s1600/cherry-choc-chip-ice-cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2-JMFdC95bEE6vwBznsMxxMDW0cuHxrYRki7fstrlASVGbu-z4JsvYjhUTcGNrqpzll3KNdjUh33MvNFNFJv5vtBHDU3S0yBE1oWsF3s6EVrkhQetGqci_0OZCNypBI65nYf04N0UGs/s320/cherry-choc-chip-ice-cream.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Being a woman my first reaction to my SITUATION (between crying jags) was to spend a lot of time in a deep relationship with Chocolate Chunk Cherry ice cream. This actually worked until I crashed into a hypoglycemic canyon….I have now eliminated sugar from my life (it makes me sad).</strong><br />
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<strong>Then I went online (of course) and googled …trying to find suggestions that would magically make me feel better. I will share a few that appeared (and yes these really did appear):</strong><br />
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<strong>Get outside and get some sun! The Vitamin D is good for you!.. (but at my age it makes me look like crushed leather)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqD-Bx6PqnIAAVKOEjAlncY1-JKVCWzyDI8EXIKUMReecF8j0rpk_lJtttcOQs0tddotf2xYgWFo12_wDbHXv-RgwnMbu7XrbBmDq3A0UklqMyublFMpEomhAa8lFc7M3HltgBrbotRQA/s1600/Leather-Texture-by-Tasastock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqD-Bx6PqnIAAVKOEjAlncY1-JKVCWzyDI8EXIKUMReecF8j0rpk_lJtttcOQs0tddotf2xYgWFo12_wDbHXv-RgwnMbu7XrbBmDq3A0UklqMyublFMpEomhAa8lFc7M3HltgBrbotRQA/s320/Leather-Texture-by-Tasastock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Take a multivitamin (seriously…um…what I took was St. John’s Wort…trust me, it works)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCXvJ849j8POjPH56a_-kAoMV5mwkXXnUVvsxG-tOmz7ZRR4DIu4mFERRgIvKGedpastMzuA_0_Thzjmo6eOs5L0PFqM74G7KSOSawRMSJe7QkYxL4nWvJkc6lXaOOhCPTk44LwnuRu8/s1600/zz.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuCXvJ849j8POjPH56a_-kAoMV5mwkXXnUVvsxG-tOmz7ZRR4DIu4mFERRgIvKGedpastMzuA_0_Thzjmo6eOs5L0PFqM74G7KSOSawRMSJe7QkYxL4nWvJkc6lXaOOhCPTk44LwnuRu8/s1600/zz.bmp" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Write a hand-written letter to someone (no…no…spent many years waiting for the technology that would free me from writing by hand) </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Go for a long walk (this did not work as the walk thing is what I did with one of my dogs and all it did was make me sad)</strong><br />
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<strong>Paint your toenails a funky color (except that would draw attention to my old feet which are funky enough) </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCBVGUUyus3BORRrAYe3Hs6ygIxPw2yDkbL9rC39FFiBXrvX18qCmQG8EdzpXD6lCLkwbgJ-yON3OD1n89uLgHbfb5FsQ67QPwE-i6vW6QmJvpjzAvVUITyEdWwL2BIdN0KWMz8mCtIY/s1600/preview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCBVGUUyus3BORRrAYe3Hs6ygIxPw2yDkbL9rC39FFiBXrvX18qCmQG8EdzpXD6lCLkwbgJ-yON3OD1n89uLgHbfb5FsQ67QPwE-i6vW6QmJvpjzAvVUITyEdWwL2BIdN0KWMz8mCtIY/s320/preview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Drink more water ..(why)</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Make an effort to chat someone up in public (This mostly consisted of telling random strangers that my dogs were dead…which I admit elicited sympathy but then they all wanted to tell me about their dead dogs and this made us all sad)</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Buy a slinky and let it crawl down a set of stairs in public ( do NOT try this on an escalator……they get caught in a never ending cycle…..slinkies are now on the list of THINGS THAT MAKE ME SAD)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiro-3DGbbc33URpSwStzIJTmdStLZVYuCSxJYEpiD5FOVU__rr0IR8v_0qWehKBMIgs85ONrhUxa8OEzRRzyUGPjcO67CjEVSkjuet8WGpsk7gPKF9XcQLPWGgAAjK65XXnvPekIszEKI/s1600/imagesCAQ8T40D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiro-3DGbbc33URpSwStzIJTmdStLZVYuCSxJYEpiD5FOVU__rr0IR8v_0qWehKBMIgs85ONrhUxa8OEzRRzyUGPjcO67CjEVSkjuet8WGpsk7gPKF9XcQLPWGgAAjK65XXnvPekIszEKI/s1600/imagesCAQ8T40D.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong> Watch Sex in the City ( When I first saw this I thought it said <span style="font-size: large;">WATCH SEX</span>….which had its possibilities but then I would have had to add it to my COMCAST bill and…COMCAST already makes me sad …) </strong><br />
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<strong>Read “O” magazine ( upon exploration I found that the first article was about how pets enhance lives….”O “now makes me sad)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlTOKoxYWD9lfkIERq0ghPJN4VuhfrIJ8pCDIKOEGXRDyPIOnGz9iNCKJwvTdqRBkAfAUSbjbdY4etORbmrhGmYLIsaDYG9WN91_dnYYTQehEaRIaFoLKIAhZF3FqSn17XidS9NXjt_s/s1600/imagesCAF13VGY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlTOKoxYWD9lfkIERq0ghPJN4VuhfrIJ8pCDIKOEGXRDyPIOnGz9iNCKJwvTdqRBkAfAUSbjbdY4etORbmrhGmYLIsaDYG9WN91_dnYYTQehEaRIaFoLKIAhZF3FqSn17XidS9NXjt_s/s1600/imagesCAF13VGY.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Take a nap (this was pretty much how I had spent my days…when I wasn’t crying or eating ice cream..I guess I was only supposed to take A nap..not make it a lifestyle)</strong><br />
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<strong>Start a postcard collection (and I would do this WHY?) </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGY22GPF7UgvW6Wr1eqoa8fpx-6BCEcBEiHLVBlKWZ7fjHQ1JC8revq5Q5Oq-pgXJyUQ5mkjNq139-4S3Tbya2dgTp9zgqp3pJdKhm_w9blGvDh6CHZl2SeyUQFvopQ0bOgQZPvV7Ug4/s1600/logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGY22GPF7UgvW6Wr1eqoa8fpx-6BCEcBEiHLVBlKWZ7fjHQ1JC8revq5Q5Oq-pgXJyUQ5mkjNq139-4S3Tbya2dgTp9zgqp3pJdKhm_w9blGvDh6CHZl2SeyUQFvopQ0bOgQZPvV7Ug4/s1600/logo.gif" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Smile at everyone you think is hot that walks by you (I live in Florida…EVERYONE is hot!..)</strong><br />
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<strong>Instead of fussing over “extra pounds” use “ FAT IS WHERE IT’S AT as your mantra (this kind of supports my CHOCOLATE CHUNK CHERRY approach)</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Write a poem (I did that…it was about my DEAD DOGS!)</strong><br />
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<strong>Use a lotion with self tanner in it, or self tanner… the glow will make you feel better (it didn’t)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3YVG0KDMjvo8DzEj4K84lZ_ENRl1eMVnC_RSVH9kVeNbtTK6WgfnhGn0Jndcmpg8K5aHDDk-1m5RRBMfO4-2NGbxfc5gmSg9kDaPPdqjfrXe-m1uhkYCh4_i8sXbWCkBqAOYvb0-OoI/s1600/logo_SS.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3YVG0KDMjvo8DzEj4K84lZ_ENRl1eMVnC_RSVH9kVeNbtTK6WgfnhGn0Jndcmpg8K5aHDDk-1m5RRBMfO4-2NGbxfc5gmSg9kDaPPdqjfrXe-m1uhkYCh4_i8sXbWCkBqAOYvb0-OoI/s1600/logo_SS.gif" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong> Cut down on your caffeine intake (uh…caffeine was the only thing that kept me from the napping lifestyle…)</strong><br />
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<strong>Buy a jump rope and burn calories while you have fun (have a foot neuroma….NOT going to happen)</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Tell that guy being a jerk to go f@#k himself. (yes…could do that except the GUYS in my life who are jerks are all middle school adolescents and I am their teacher…bad form..and I NEED my job) </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IzOZwJigzR977XS5XNhIcQSpuRKm8tjQJ_k1khvZyr5fGWY1m13YOD5XDnGm7GeswnHxdX47PVhl98hB9de89fnZafqRtO0GBfMYpaypVakM-Hs8znZMKngKu-Ha_FGMBOkKr6EoqKk/s1600/boy-with-backpack-cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3IzOZwJigzR977XS5XNhIcQSpuRKm8tjQJ_k1khvZyr5fGWY1m13YOD5XDnGm7GeswnHxdX47PVhl98hB9de89fnZafqRtO0GBfMYpaypVakM-Hs8znZMKngKu-Ha_FGMBOkKr6EoqKk/s1600/boy-with-backpack-cartoon.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Every time you look in the mirror, tell yourself you’re a sexy bitch, even if people are around! (I am still trying to get a visual on this one)</strong><br />
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<strong>Get a sexy shade of lip gloss (because<span style="font-size: large;"> everyone</span> knows that lip gloss makes you forget….)</strong><br />
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<strong>Watch Saturday morning cartoons (like Clifford, The Big Red <span style="font-size: large;">DOG</span>)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNguzc9nRk1jQtqi4SHKYUB8OLwvMsmKmKMm3wGvErujqNNoh3TFwtn15EEed1yFyIWwMWjmSswlmMrOSMW2rBqO_Fqj8Gdj3UuONq_1P5Ob8IOgeuU024zgGaZK4KsxL6f4L5f8I9gGA/s1600/imagesCAVRLSSM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNguzc9nRk1jQtqi4SHKYUB8OLwvMsmKmKMm3wGvErujqNNoh3TFwtn15EEed1yFyIWwMWjmSswlmMrOSMW2rBqO_Fqj8Gdj3UuONq_1P5Ob8IOgeuU024zgGaZK4KsxL6f4L5f8I9gGA/s1600/imagesCAVRLSSM.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Keep a kit of daily necessities you can’t live without by your side at all times (like ice cream, Kleenex, and a pillow). </strong><br />
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<strong>Join a social networking group (People Who Have Dead Dogs)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCjwrJmqtFgmKA9-OhK3rvrOifQ2u6O1_aDFoSWWmQAgXa3_CM_nULhofNCVkYZVqAGKPlg6_DklfymEwzB5PFBmJQjLVUBLSYKDUII74vr8KtaW9eqHrJqwChp3LmDiuNnf-yuKfC3Y/s1600/imagesCAU47B8M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCjwrJmqtFgmKA9-OhK3rvrOifQ2u6O1_aDFoSWWmQAgXa3_CM_nULhofNCVkYZVqAGKPlg6_DklfymEwzB5PFBmJQjLVUBLSYKDUII74vr8KtaW9eqHrJqwChp3LmDiuNnf-yuKfC3Y/s1600/imagesCAU47B8M.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Spend time with children and elders ( I am a teacher and my mother lives in the community next door to mine…..enough said?)</strong><br />
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<strong>Don’t spend time with negative people (I teach <span style="font-size: large;">middle school</span>…..)</strong><br />
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<strong>Meditate (Why are my dogs dead…oommmmmmmm)</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIveC4ZtbnBsOgdbp8d8eavETqVrDXsVRCcXEOVgHJuI_VdRUT75QLkm7wY0WGLNFKgyKBYMjWp0s89EQ7Riz0ohYQFSkqlkfF1EX_xWhexxeeQd9u83whj6Tz1iMuU2YI8PVwzbB68E/s1600/imagesCAYJ8GDD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIveC4ZtbnBsOgdbp8d8eavETqVrDXsVRCcXEOVgHJuI_VdRUT75QLkm7wY0WGLNFKgyKBYMjWp0s89EQ7Riz0ohYQFSkqlkfF1EX_xWhexxeeQd9u83whj6Tz1iMuU2YI8PVwzbB68E/s1600/imagesCAYJ8GDD.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Take frequent “breathers” at work ( hello…I teach <span style="font-size: large;">MIDDLE SCHOOL!! </span><span style="font-size: small;">)</span></strong><br />
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<strong>Invest in a down comforter (Florida…we do not understand down comforters)</strong><br />
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<strong>Let bullshit roll off your shoulders (I actually put this one into practice) </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81yAZWcqSUkC76EJt0-L289KcjWBccuRW_0EYROcmFxKxsURHfOgVfQQxW4jbHY90fin3adSrVshhZCejQ0CxGGo0e3-BRp-FFKRPMg1MCQXTjKuqBSK0qhzP45yqWjnAJbap6PEZL9w/s1600/accountability-wording-might-be-bad-but-the-meters-good-demotivational-poster-1289308247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81yAZWcqSUkC76EJt0-L289KcjWBccuRW_0EYROcmFxKxsURHfOgVfQQxW4jbHY90fin3adSrVshhZCejQ0CxGGo0e3-BRp-FFKRPMg1MCQXTjKuqBSK0qhzP45yqWjnAJbap6PEZL9w/s320/accountability-wording-might-be-bad-but-the-meters-good-demotivational-poster-1289308247.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>So how, you ask, have I spent my days? It is all about distraction….</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KhxMe20DqGB4496uqC0R1PzTwz2Ssq4-Os21X30lR08izwMYA0Z6cLfdZgQbVj38nB8nhoySUX_a2FVRQzkkbZW5aLU0EsB30xVCFqCHQnBjp-nO_NTqMfNhxlgQqu8ViFdjix-986c/s1600/imagesCAI0PTW4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KhxMe20DqGB4496uqC0R1PzTwz2Ssq4-Os21X30lR08izwMYA0Z6cLfdZgQbVj38nB8nhoySUX_a2FVRQzkkbZW5aLU0EsB30xVCFqCHQnBjp-nO_NTqMfNhxlgQqu8ViFdjix-986c/s1600/imagesCAI0PTW4.jpg" /></a></div><strong>I found the game, ZUMA, to have a therapeutic effect. To play it one has to concentrate and when one is concentrating one is distracted…ZUMA…lots and lots of ZUMA.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>And, speaking of distraction, I want to thank the creators of the following TV series… FALLING SKIES, MTV’S TEEN WOLF, and MEMPHIS BEAT. All just had their season finales…you got me through the month with three consecutive nights of weekly episodic anticipation.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aS2bRkol7Q6BkwfKSrt9ZJ-outhicOeAMYCJMwSe6cHwbWm0w9qd2dXGObc7L0Qqdy4-nj-u6CsM0PhWsMwhhAFMGunvXqF7nL1EXStiYjz0uzRRvsJZU2zv1ggDO9lky1gW_6Fbqn0/s1600/imagesCACV14BP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aS2bRkol7Q6BkwfKSrt9ZJ-outhicOeAMYCJMwSe6cHwbWm0w9qd2dXGObc7L0Qqdy4-nj-u6CsM0PhWsMwhhAFMGunvXqF7nL1EXStiYjz0uzRRvsJZU2zv1ggDO9lky1gW_6Fbqn0/s1600/imagesCACV14BP.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMd1GmNRobi-8SA6pIYLLNm8bBMQMc9EGzgVFDRTIbiomDXfS8yCL9In_ZhCEzt9MeRZ8l6cOVqk09emjD1TxQL29RnDdf-WLbhTJlZcLU_6ZOChyURpbp193E-4O_jVA6VHoFgIpnOY/s1600/imagesCAWV3B19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMd1GmNRobi-8SA6pIYLLNm8bBMQMc9EGzgVFDRTIbiomDXfS8yCL9In_ZhCEzt9MeRZ8l6cOVqk09emjD1TxQL29RnDdf-WLbhTJlZcLU_6ZOChyURpbp193E-4O_jVA6VHoFgIpnOY/s1600/imagesCAWV3B19.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor0esP4LbCHmfQSAwjaV-p124UOjM011rMT-5kMGQGRXvKJD_95I_XZP9bM9u9hswUFoqzJf-iPKuzLifligVqlkBik_0KkMHb4-thzRWfbcPC58zHd3y_7140ZAEyPkarWp3b1hEYkA/s1600/imagesCACA8W4Q.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor0esP4LbCHmfQSAwjaV-p124UOjM011rMT-5kMGQGRXvKJD_95I_XZP9bM9u9hswUFoqzJf-iPKuzLifligVqlkBik_0KkMHb4-thzRWfbcPC58zHd3y_7140ZAEyPkarWp3b1hEYkA/s1600/imagesCACA8W4Q.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>I am a reader but if you look to the right at my reading list you will notice that THE COMING REVOLUTION is still in progress (sorry Walid…but trying to focus and teach myself about what the hell is going on in our world makes me sad).</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>ATLAS SHRUGGED is only half read…( Objectivism makes me sad.)</strong><br />
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<strong>But, I HAVE completed 2 foo foo mysteries, 1 ghost story, and 1 young adult novel.. ….distraction. </strong><br />
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<strong>And…now my awful summer has ended. I have completed my first week back at work…remember…middle school teacher? My duties have changed dramatically and have immersed me in distraction. However, I did learn that, when my happy enthusiastic colleagues asked me how my summer was I should not have blurted out MY DOGS DIED! </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNivBDpOF6KIBdw2Dg4xq9GsQi6m4_WDYaUZSsqXXFDtreFQXnZ7nmVKTr8eljsSuw8Uvb8VJ7jE0cudMI41QD6bLmX32wJLzll5M791r9MeMT75BSo6TKQC7WiNnmU2rRbh2ftuLyrvQ/s1600/ghj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNivBDpOF6KIBdw2Dg4xq9GsQi6m4_WDYaUZSsqXXFDtreFQXnZ7nmVKTr8eljsSuw8Uvb8VJ7jE0cudMI41QD6bLmX32wJLzll5M791r9MeMT75BSo6TKQC7WiNnmU2rRbh2ftuLyrvQ/s1600/ghj.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Depression is a thief. It steals all the fun out of life and leaves you trying to cope without the tools you need. Humor is one of those tools, and it's more important than one might think. I HAD a sense of humor until my SITUATION became DEPRESSING. I am trying to recover it. So I leave you with some jokes:</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5, and 6.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line so we can trace the call.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are depressed, it doesn't matter which number you press. No one will answer.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">If you are delusional and occasionally hallucinate, please be aware that the thing you are holding on the side of your head is alive and about to bite off your ear.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000;"> I was depressed last night so I called Lifeline. They've got a call center in Pakistan. I told them I hated my life.... They got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck.</span></strong><br />
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<strong> <span style="color: #38761d;">I was walking along the beach when I kicked a bottle poking up through the sand. Opening it, I was astonished to see a cloud of smoke and a genie smiling at me.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"For your kindness," the genie said, "I will grant you one wish!" I paused, laughed, and replied, "I have always wanted a road from Hawaii to California."</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">The genie grimaced, thought for a few minutes and said, "Listen, I'm sorry, but I can't do that! Think of all the pilings needed to hold up the highway and how long they'd have to be to reach the bottom of the ocean. Think of all the pavement. That's too much to ask."</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">"OK," I said, not wanting to be unreasonable. . Make me understand ME. What makes me laugh and cry, why am I temperamental, why am I so difficult to get along with, what do I really want? Basically, teach me to understand what makes ME tick!"</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">The genie paused, and then sighed, "Did you want two lanes or four?"</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-74093690344544553312011-07-22T16:40:00.003-04:002011-07-23T04:59:03.345-04:00A SMALL LIFE...FOUND AND LOST<strong><em><span style="color: #274e13;">"It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try to readjust the way you thought of things….. this dark and curious feeling of falling that accompanies every great loss." </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #274e13;">— Lemony Snicket (The Reptile Room..Book 2 in A Series of Unfortunate Events)</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong>In August of 2000, while living in New Mexico, we lost our rat terrier, Ivan, to an immune deficiency disease. I missed him so much. Then, on December 22 of the same year, my, unbeknownst to me soon to be former husband, did, what proved to be, the last kind action in our marriage.</strong><br />
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<strong>On his way to work he passed a very small rat terrier sitting just before the crossing on the bridge over the Rio Grande. The temperature was 18 degrees…there were no cars…nothing…just this very little dog.</strong><br />
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<strong>He picked her up and returned with her to the house. She had no collar...no way to identify her. We tried to find her owners but were unsuccessful. We thought she must have gotten out of an RV that had stopped to admire the view and her owners drove off…not realizing she was gone. She could not have been out very long. Aside from bad teeth, she had been well cared for, spayed, and liked people. She weighed 9 pounds.</strong><br />
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<strong>I named her Zoey. It did not take us long to realize that Zoey was completely deaf. Not even the loudest sound secured her attention. Our vet said she appeared to be about 5 years old and that her deafness was congenital. This went a long way in explaining how she could have slipped out with nobody noticing. </strong><br />
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<strong>She was almost completely silent. She never knew her name in words…we used a hand signal. I put a bell on her collar so I would know where she was. At first it was a turkey bell and then as she got older it was a large jingle bell. The bell was Zoey.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWDvE7whvLKX4e3R1S43BliKbqho5b_xf2ZqFmd9njQmBKmdxiBHO0wnFO7upDTbv1DzQE1WKBdTzyDbKxyxKBZkpw2qNaqn1FcJGFuw1iMiWyO44q_wPcwMGMppm1RWulfwZJiVLbco/s1600/turkey-bell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWDvE7whvLKX4e3R1S43BliKbqho5b_xf2ZqFmd9njQmBKmdxiBHO0wnFO7upDTbv1DzQE1WKBdTzyDbKxyxKBZkpw2qNaqn1FcJGFuw1iMiWyO44q_wPcwMGMppm1RWulfwZJiVLbco/s200/turkey-bell.jpg" t$="true" width="187" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>She begrudgingly joined our dog pack which consisted of the ALPHA, Mandy (a black Irish setter/dachshund cross), and Brutus, the Pointer. Like all rat terriers Zoey wanted to be boss but Mandy would not allow it.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Zoey proved to be tough as nails. She survived severe pancreatitis, and a rattlesnake bite. Being deaf she could not hear the warning rattle. She carried the triangle shaped scar on her shoulder for the rest of her life.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwM4_7RPeQPk6jO6Ff3mEj9qataMONo6-dT9C1BFPJry85-Q1NEeiJnglev_Btdkdkgqh-8FpjI_66kJbAWgx10ZocuI8HFBwWv30aV7qSEt-9gCq4GA2r4r44KArh9tHdSUwHDaeGhNU/s1600/imagesCA5VCVF5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwM4_7RPeQPk6jO6Ff3mEj9qataMONo6-dT9C1BFPJry85-Q1NEeiJnglev_Btdkdkgqh-8FpjI_66kJbAWgx10ZocuI8HFBwWv30aV7qSEt-9gCq4GA2r4r44KArh9tHdSUwHDaeGhNU/s1600/imagesCA5VCVF5.jpg" t$="true" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>Zoey was my shadow…she followed me everywhere….her bell announcing her presence.</strong><br />
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<strong>Four months later my husband left and three years later I moved to Florida with my three dogs. For Zoey this meant that all bets were off…this was new territory and she set out to claim it. When Mandy passed away at the age of 18…Zoey proclaimed herself THE ALPHA…her minion was supposed to be Brutus. </strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM2dtn32LzJwQf7bsZj2jxC2DBixKi0vxxc0p5Ojt9oIlZhjGGq56lUuSa1tbDOYEEGGePTkg16yNNDGk51kqULSQ7N9IhDoYvsJ6xsk_0iWDUR3IFnVXqf4_5gm6n59LZlec9LXx9dg/s1600/IMG_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM2dtn32LzJwQf7bsZj2jxC2DBixKi0vxxc0p5Ojt9oIlZhjGGq56lUuSa1tbDOYEEGGePTkg16yNNDGk51kqULSQ7N9IhDoYvsJ6xsk_0iWDUR3IFnVXqf4_5gm6n59LZlec9LXx9dg/s320/IMG_0087.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See previous blog entry LOSING BRUTUS</td></tr>
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<strong>She spent the last five years trying to make Brutus believe it. He never did. The only time she ever barked was at him…she knew whenever he entered the room and tried all she could think of to make him do what she dictated. She devoted enormous energy in thwarting his presence. Mostly he ignored her.</strong><br />
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<strong>But still she followed me, bell jingling and every night slept under the covers in the crook of my leg…. this little warm body…sweet and comfortable. And the years passed….Zoey had some liver and kidney issues but all were under control…she just continued. She developed cataracts and became almost blind…but still followed me….scenting my path with astounding accuracy. Looking at her one would not realize that she was more than likely close to 17 years old.</strong><br />
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<strong>Then, on Monday, July 11th, Brutus was gone….and from that day forward Zoey began to fade. I was wrong when I said that she would not miss him…she did. He was her energizer, her purpose for each day…and at some level…her pack.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jbH2T0HxLLLDdSKzguTZTfCT8St41F7NwUU2RJH7-MbfFVUyLb2GeWu5R-utJuycnzFUtBsSM2rkcI3FBBRwNxnzuxLuxsnAFj9hjhD85e5xejnGxTG6mHXwDkSYy0zmtwTMg2u9SVw/s1600/IMG_0872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7jbH2T0HxLLLDdSKzguTZTfCT8St41F7NwUU2RJH7-MbfFVUyLb2GeWu5R-utJuycnzFUtBsSM2rkcI3FBBRwNxnzuxLuxsnAFj9hjhD85e5xejnGxTG6mHXwDkSYy0zmtwTMg2u9SVw/s320/IMG_0872.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> One week to the day of Brutus’s passing Zoey’s kidneys failed and she left this world in a lovely peaceful room at the animal emergency hospital…cuddled in a beach towel, in my lap… just before midnight, while it was still Monday, on the 18th of July.</strong><br />
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<strong>I had to write this. Zoey is my last dog. She was my shadow. She demonstrated courage and determination every day. She was a survivor and she was my special little friend. </strong><br />
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<strong>What were the odds of finding a small pure bred rat terrier sitting on the Rio Grande bridge in the middle of NOWHERE New Mexico…what were the odds of her being found by a family who had just lost a beloved rat terrier? Zoey was a gift…a gift for which I will always be grateful.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2GGUohHS-YQLyyR26J4YrrVzHteK2Xr9xrUmoxfXG2A7fWnMnxaTeL1lLZRokgjg5F_agyan34D1bx1-FAFMnPEFGSJJK0e0yczAgljk-WtuTzB4Xb7gddB8KcaUHdz8D5eshq_nSGU/s1600/IMG_0877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF2GGUohHS-YQLyyR26J4YrrVzHteK2Xr9xrUmoxfXG2A7fWnMnxaTeL1lLZRokgjg5F_agyan34D1bx1-FAFMnPEFGSJJK0e0yczAgljk-WtuTzB4Xb7gddB8KcaUHdz8D5eshq_nSGU/s320/IMG_0877.JPG" t$="true" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong> </strong><strong>I so miss the sound of her bell jingling through the house…always seeking me…always finding me….the “sound of silence”….the saddest sound in the universe….</strong><br />
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</strong>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-58098218801497856192011-07-11T16:01:00.002-04:002018-11-03T21:05:07.973-04:00LOSING BRUTUS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<strong>It is Wednesday Brutus, my dog…..just you and me…</strong><br />
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<strong>You are home from the hospital having been there because your giant prostate flared up and bled and hurt….July 4th evening…I had to carry you into the building. So here you are…full of medication and feeling better. The vet told me that this would happen again and again. </strong><br />
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<strong>I made the decision and called the mobile vet. Soon, the burden of your illness will be lifted from you. They are booked until Monday so I have to go through the next 5 days ticking them down. You don’t know this…but I do. Your life will end on Monday morning… at home...no fear… no scary vet smell…… I promise. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>It is so very hard to let you go, especially when you ate all your dinner with enthusiasm tonight and you wagged your tail and perked up your ears. I waver…yet know in my heart that all can change very quickly and the only progress to be made is toward more illness. </strong><br />
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<strong>And now it is Thursday…You slept beside me early this morning and rolled on your back to have a tummy rub. You were even excited about your breakfast and ate over half of it. I took you on your walks and you still pointed at rabbits and sometimes at suspicious fallen palm fronds. This evening you ate all your dinner, rolled around for me to play a little and curled up with me on the couch. </strong><br />
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<strong>I am remembering the beautiful black and white puppy … carsick during the long ride to his new home.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Friday now ending... Long day… Lots of walks. You ate all your meals. I put your meds in cookie dough …you REALLY like that. .</strong><br />
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<strong>I have missed your tail. Since you have had the prostate issue your tail is always down now. Pointers should NEVER have down tails.</strong><br />
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<strong>Gramma was here. She is so sad. She loves you. She was always glad to come and let you out at noon and give you a biscuit…You have made her life brighter Brutus.</strong><br />
<strong>How will I tell the neighbors who sneak you biscuits and greet you every morning? They are in Germany now. </strong><br />
<strong>You are a most lovable dog. </strong><br />
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<strong>Saturday…..You had eggs, cottage cheese, and canned dog food for breakfast. You cleaned the bowl. I watched you eat…standing there in your diaper pants (because you leak). </strong><br />
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<strong>I have thought of someone who will not miss you…yes…Zoey. You have been her nemesis from the beginning. She wanted to be the boss of you and all you ever did was ignore her. She HATES that. She is very old now…older than you. I think it will not be long before she follows your path…no escape for either of you.</strong><br />
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<strong>The pet store took back the special crate I had just got you and said they would take your diaper pants to give to rescue dogs. I donated your new bag of Weight Management dog food to the Domestic Animal Shelter. I will call the vet and see if there is someone who can use your leftover meds. I went to the grocery store and bought you yummy things.</strong><br />
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<strong>Sunday…last full day….my heart is breaking. Long, long day….</strong><br />
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<strong>Monday…there was a bad storm. I guess it was too much to ask that you be spared thunder on your last night…..We took a long walk this morning….and then I told you, like I always do, “Let’s go home”…and you turned, like you always do, right into the cul de sac and walked up to the pink front door…home.</strong><br />
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<strong>You slept next to me for a long time on the couch…dreaming dog dreams and running in your sleep. And when you woke up I gave you a big chunk of cookie dough.</strong><br />
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<strong>They came at 10:30 am. And … it was full circle….the vet who took care of you in the emergency hospital was the one who walked through my door. He said he was glad he could do this for Brutus. </strong><br />
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<strong>He put his hand on your head and said a silent prayer. My fingers still tasted like cookie dough. You were in my lap on the couch licking them as the drugs took effect. You licked and licked so gently until you just stopped. </strong><br />
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<strong>Your ashes will be tucked in beside Mandy in the back yard under the caladiums. </strong><br />
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<strong>You have brought me such comfort during the bad times in my life, and every day you added joy….. it is hard to bear your loss. I parted from you with the knowledge that you have had a happy life with me… except when it thundered. </strong><br />
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<strong>But it was right to say good-by now, before you became too sick and before this last of moments was spent with the vet and the clinic smell and the fear. I loved you enough to send you “gently into that good night”.</strong><br />
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<strong>It is said that all dogs go to heaven. If that is true then you will go where all squirrels and rabbits run fast but not so fast that you can’t catch them….and it will be snack time whenever you desire and it will never…. EVER… thunder. </strong><br />
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<strong>No matter where I am, Brutus, I will feel the breeze of your spirit wagging that pointer tail. </strong><strong></strong><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>As you cross the bridge between this world and the next, just follow your nose and look up…Mandy is there…up on the hill.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-d0XwAfykKeUIHjIbjOuxUTyOUaCioRcBilawTvTomOavQjRtN8mX8COIJrEclIFvWv9OBHbWRCDFS83P3uQM9imgVXLVoc-_BLefl8JhyRB7bOgQ2M7IWbVEoF2bgA9vg2W4mW_py8/s1600/IrishSetter.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" m="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-d0XwAfykKeUIHjIbjOuxUTyOUaCioRcBilawTvTomOavQjRtN8mX8COIJrEclIFvWv9OBHbWRCDFS83P3uQM9imgVXLVoc-_BLefl8JhyRB7bOgQ2M7IWbVEoF2bgA9vg2W4mW_py8/s200/IrishSetter.gif" true="" width="200" /></a><strong> Mandy, who preceded you in this journey…the Alpha of our family pack. She knows where the birds are…you are still her bud and she has waited for you. When you see her I want you to stop….hold a perfect point… fill your heart…. raise your tail like a flag……. and run… </strong></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCl-lSIE_8-ORKFmJoIRlv0-3F7_S9cfHJ9MiZ-OijARermfvVcVMzp_lzonuFR2D8lAFjEzLGHwQrAonvscoaJYv4geacwYOmZ7ELtCZnSVxAvIYmfCbiUFGEtKVsYab-7eY8KfQeGEI/s1600/IMG_0155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" m="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCl-lSIE_8-ORKFmJoIRlv0-3F7_S9cfHJ9MiZ-OijARermfvVcVMzp_lzonuFR2D8lAFjEzLGHwQrAonvscoaJYv4geacwYOmZ7ELtCZnSVxAvIYmfCbiUFGEtKVsYab-7eY8KfQeGEI/s320/IMG_0155.JPG" true="" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BRUTUS.... Best Beloved</td></tr>
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Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-34888938689748641162011-06-27T15:25:00.001-04:002018-11-03T21:25:37.616-04:00GOING, GOING, GALT!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PjTIqKXoLaO3-vUURKxiRA4GNotr1rVh7e1Gguel_cDdVUEXe4_8bxx0pnUmc1LR9e2k6Ky4vdEPaw-i9h2bcDfuDkv_5bpApYTpKMOlDcPS7n_cIjuxAZBXafyMm1muOHE_bmekEYs/s1600/art_rand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PjTIqKXoLaO3-vUURKxiRA4GNotr1rVh7e1Gguel_cDdVUEXe4_8bxx0pnUmc1LR9e2k6Ky4vdEPaw-i9h2bcDfuDkv_5bpApYTpKMOlDcPS7n_cIjuxAZBXafyMm1muOHE_bmekEYs/s1600/art_rand.jpg" true="" /></a></div>
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<strong>As many of my friends and family know, I am rereading Ayn Rand’s ATLAS SHRUGGED. </strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>I was maybe 18 when I first read it and although it stayed with me, the reality is I WAS A CHILD and had NO CLUE!</strong><br />
<strong>As I read it now, from the vantage point of age and experience, I find myself looking up from the pages and seeing this novel played out before my eyes every day and night on the news. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>In the novel Rand has the movers, inventors, artists, and producers (Atlas) of American society simply strike and disappear. They remove themselves from the world. Today they don't go on strike; they just leave for other states and, eventually, other countries.</strong><br />
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<strong>In America, right now, Atlas is shrugging.. He is going to places that WANT him, his skills, his jobs, and his money. </strong><br />
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<strong>Right now companies, jobs, and people are leaving highly taxed and regulation punishing states like California and Illinois and relocating to states like Texas and Florida that have no income tax and fewer state regulations.</strong><br />
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<strong>But for many, our federal policies drive them even further…they cannot stay here and thrive so…they leave the US all together.</strong><br />
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<strong><br />
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<strong>This has been going on for a long time and it is now accelerating. Atlas is fleeing because of intrusive and economy killing government policies. </strong><br />
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<strong>Atlas leaves in bits…he begins first by outsourcing, then the entire manufacturing process goes, and last is Atlas himself… the inventors and entrepreneurs . </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>These people go, as all people do, to where there is OPPORTUNITY. The globe is a different place than it was when Ayn Rand was writing. Many countries are tax friendly and their standards of living have entered the modern world. They offer dual citizenship.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>And…I found this shocking…Americans renouncing their citizenship is higher than it has ever been! If our policies do not change we will lose….and it will play out within the next 20 years.</strong><br />
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<strong>We USED to be the country that drew talented, motivated people to us. They are now departing for places that do not punish individuals that produce. Places that want and reward business owners and risk takers. These countries are vigorously pursuing American companies and investment.</strong><br />
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<strong>Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Monte Carlo, Belize, Costa Rica, Singapore, Panama, Bahamas, and Cayman are just a few examples of those offering low taxes and a business friendly environment.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>My grandfather started, in Illinois, a successful metal manufacturing plant in the 40’s that has remained in my family for 3 generations…. a plant that is now being crushed by the state’s toxic policies and bankrupted economy. My brother, who now runs the company, has stated that, if he could, he would leave Illinois for another state. Our grandfather understood an economic America where wealth was comprised of big physical assets that could not be moved easily. The government could effortlessly, and still does in Illinois, bind you with heavy taxation and burdensome regulations. </strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RmzmCfFzRmamLXaauR74gPChbFtl85wikJOCrqWKxa-qW3eaBzRpOgRthOIl9xHvhnJ-lDAMTsLlWBU2W1Y4XUCa8Fz2hpFsQADJUBb2fJokN3eDEhoSIZqOva8ZgcSvTbLwUJQtvCk/s1600/tax_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RmzmCfFzRmamLXaauR74gPChbFtl85wikJOCrqWKxa-qW3eaBzRpOgRthOIl9xHvhnJ-lDAMTsLlWBU2W1Y4XUCa8Fz2hpFsQADJUBb2fJokN3eDEhoSIZqOva8ZgcSvTbLwUJQtvCk/s1600/tax_6.jpg" true="" /></a><strong>Today, however, more and more wealth and assets are mobile. They can easily be sent elsewhere. Those physical assets are not so physical anymore….they are intellectual and electronic. </strong></div>
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<strong>And when Atlas finds too many obstacles in the way of production Atlas can leave.</strong><br />
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<strong>Today’s technology and transportation have given enormous freedom to those business people who wish to access it….their businesses are where THEY are and THEY can be anywhere on Earth.</strong><br />
<strong>The high tech revolution has freed businessmen to run their companies from anywhere in the world. </strong><br />
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<strong>Present day producers do not have to punish themselves by dropping out of the SYSTEM as they did in Rand’s story. They just drop into another, more welcoming system…. while leaving this economy more and more adrift.</strong><br />
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<strong>Big government and the CLASS OF DEPENDENCY get in the way and like a parasite, drain the host country. If this goes on long enough…. the host dies.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpLKxu4qLWHUQ8enuzkBNAvbXZ-h9yIMVGscS3yPr21GFL6ujvU8BRKAQifMAYICu28R34W6KGd09Sj4aXW0fi2v3G3Uwi9AhhGEyp-a2mNwOkX-fAcLWo_h0Im_fOb8Xu4eaj6nQx25s/s1600/Atlas_Shrugged_by_Kenny_Art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpLKxu4qLWHUQ8enuzkBNAvbXZ-h9yIMVGscS3yPr21GFL6ujvU8BRKAQifMAYICu28R34W6KGd09Sj4aXW0fi2v3G3Uwi9AhhGEyp-a2mNwOkX-fAcLWo_h0Im_fOb8Xu4eaj6nQx25s/s320/Atlas_Shrugged_by_Kenny_Art.jpg" true="" width="236" /></a></div>
<strong>As the producers, inventors, and risk takers leave, the society becomes more and more injured. Everything declines… wealth, jobs, and living standards. The citizenry becomes poorer. Government, to the detriment, spends and prints more money, and ineffectually tries to do what it CANNOT DO. </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>It CANNOT create jobs or wealth. It CANNOT make everyone equal materially or intellectually. The more it intrudes into the private sectors of society the worse matters become. </strong><br />
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<strong>It makes no difference what our currant administration says, there is not one thing government can do to turn around this process of continual decline except to reverse its policies.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>We must restore those conditions which make it attractive for Atlas to return. We must drastically reduce our spending and the thousands of strangling regulations that prevent production. We now have the highest corporate tax in the world…Why would ANYBODY want to start a business here?</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>It has taken us 100 years to get to this stagnant point…to reverse it will also take time. We must do it in the same way that it has been done to us…… incrementally. Our talented creators and the capital that the current toxic policies have driven away will not come back when other societies provide more favorable climates for entrepreneurs than we do. They must trust that the change is real.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQNooazzAZwZMxUp8MDjGnf9ZQmrU4nQuwppBT2aaO6wcaOvjJJE0KdvBEY8O-GUO5y0jQX14QatQQ4Gldt6idf_gA_tcs4kWsrEUE38CAt9RPqY9fNG1r65GKckfQOEaGOcCpXhlRpI/s1600/imagesCASTA5BA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQNooazzAZwZMxUp8MDjGnf9ZQmrU4nQuwppBT2aaO6wcaOvjJJE0KdvBEY8O-GUO5y0jQX14QatQQ4Gldt6idf_gA_tcs4kWsrEUE38CAt9RPqY9fNG1r65GKckfQOEaGOcCpXhlRpI/s1600/imagesCASTA5BA.jpg" true="" /></a><strong>Power does not relinquish itself. A bloated STATIST government, with injurious regulations and taxation, make escape impossible. That is its goal. </strong></div>
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<strong>But… entrepreneurs are now free to vote with their feet and wallets. Thankfully they pose a threat to just how many of these bad policies any government can impose and still continue. </strong><br />
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<strong>Who is John Galt? He is Atlas leading an organized "strike" against those who use the force of government law and moral guilt to confiscate the accomplishments of the productive menbers of society. He “Shuts down the motor of the world”.</strong><br />
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<strong>U.S. politicians may tear their hair about THE RICH, but the real enemies of America are those who come to power by demonizing the successful while producing nothing useful themselves.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>Rand calls them the “Looters”..they are proponents of high taxation, big labor, government ownership, government spending, government planning, regulation, and redistribution.</strong><br />
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<strong>Rand also identifies the "Moochers" ….those who demand others' earnings on behalf of the needy or those unable to earn for themselves. Yet they berate the producers who make that help possible and seem to resent the talented on whom they depend. They destroy the productive through guilt, and by appealing to "moral right" while enabling the "lawful" looting performed by governments.</strong><br />
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<strong>As I stated at the start of this entry, I am reading Atlas Shrugged while seeing its story played out in real time before my eyes. </strong><br />
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<strong>In the novel many companies and businesses are moving to Colorado because it is a state that has “hardly any government” They leave to escape the onerous government regulations found in other states. Of course Colorado is deemed REGRESSIVE because of this.</strong><br />
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<strong>And in response to their leaving, the federal government issues a decree forbidding companies from relocating. </strong><br />
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<strong>I look at the news and see that the National Labor Relations Board filed a complaint demanding that Boeing locate its assembly line for the 787 Dreamliner in Puget Sound instead of Charleston, South Carolina—on the grounds that Boeing should not be allowed to escape to a "right to work" state. </strong><br />
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<strong>As I continue reading Atlas Shrugged an innovative oilman invents a revolutionary process to extract oil from shale, but even though the country is desperate for energy, he is shut down by government regulations. </strong><br />
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<strong>I look up from the page and the news is talking about a process called hydraulic fracturing— "fracking" for short—This makes it possible to extract large quantities of natural gas from shale formations across the country. It could revolutionize domestic energy production. But, again the media and the government are calling for a moratorium on fracking. </strong><br />
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<strong>Atlas Shrugged…. where productive companies are bled dry to provide bailouts for failing companies which produce "unreliable goods at unpredictable times." </strong><br />
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<strong>And here is General Motors and Chrysler who were bailed out with $80 billion dollars of our tax money so that nine of their cars made the Forbes list of the eleven "Worst Cars on the Road." The nine are:</strong><br />
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<strong>Cadillac Escalade </strong><br />
<strong>Chevrolet Tahoe Hybrid</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTMB5bYYTtyNPwHToEPkVVRjtk-obGKcm4kWaI09Nrge2_z6cNb7YKw40t4AY2hI86UIizv2hFlKfUzvsAvD8tAwDLVNscYZiq9g9x2haZuPm2AR8r45Ir81RZ0y3RBPsTncJpohY0KE/s1600/general-motors-stock-price.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTMB5bYYTtyNPwHToEPkVVRjtk-obGKcm4kWaI09Nrge2_z6cNb7YKw40t4AY2hI86UIizv2hFlKfUzvsAvD8tAwDLVNscYZiq9g9x2haZuPm2AR8r45Ir81RZ0y3RBPsTncJpohY0KE/s320/general-motors-stock-price.jpg" true="" width="320" /></a></div>
<strong>Dodge Nitro </strong><br />
<strong>Jeep Wrangler</strong><br />
<strong>Dodge Dakota</strong><br />
<strong>Chrysler Town and Country</strong><br />
<strong>Chevrolet Colorado</strong><br />
<strong>Chevrolet Aveo</strong><br />
<strong>Jeep Liberty</strong><br />
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<strong>In Atlas Shrugged, the advocates of uncontrolled government keep spending money faster than they can take it by heavily taxing a shrinking number of producers. The title of one of the chapters is "Account Overdrawn." </strong><br />
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<strong>In our world, S&P has downgraded the long-term outlook for US government debt, a first step to downgrading the nation's credit rating.</strong><br />
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<strong>Throughout the novel characters are commenting on their inability to get things repaired, the abandonment of buildings, and the general lack of normal commerce.</strong><br />
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<strong>And online I see an entire photo journal dramatically displaying the currant disintegration of Detroit, Michigan….a city that was once a jewel in this country’s crown.</strong><br />
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<strong>And finally…in Atlas Shrugged, men of talent and initiative are disappearing and withdrawing from the economy because they refuse to accept punishment for their hard work and ambition. </strong><br />
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<strong>In April of 2011 well known ad man and entrepreneur Jerry Della Femina announced that he had sold his famous restaurant and was withdrawing his money from all of his other businesses and investments because..... </strong><br />
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<strong>"I'm just not ready to have my wealth redistributed. I'm not ready to pay more tax money than the next guy because I provide jobs and because I work a 60-hour week and I earn more than $250,000 a year." </strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOtrZAMcxPueX70A2QXPyIgrDLbiRG0WTp3_CeA_dX8iuL9DU3PwSgSGc3XMfBLuFmLOQP8BiuJt-_CTAcJ9FBy8YanC-OM1tAqsWb0rm7J_EW5sLBzXAmoAhVwt4NdO_VXXY71F1nxQ/s1600/asd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOtrZAMcxPueX70A2QXPyIgrDLbiRG0WTp3_CeA_dX8iuL9DU3PwSgSGc3XMfBLuFmLOQP8BiuJt-_CTAcJ9FBy8YanC-OM1tAqsWb0rm7J_EW5sLBzXAmoAhVwt4NdO_VXXY71F1nxQ/s1600/asd.jpg" true="" /></a></div>
<strong>But what was even more interesting was Mr. Della Femina’s answer when asked why he was doing this….…</strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"> "Read a brilliant book by Ayn Rand called Atlas Shrugged, and you'll know." </span></strong><strong></strong><strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDY2Uud6s06EwA7qHHF9Y0ljo5Oo5R5x8OR934CUvuCAHZX_OMBdAUyJq2450JknXEKdLXdm6_MHEzdeU-c14djYuT5OccGp-KMFVBCrnX2vy0CbK18hccBDkLw9l6yskLoKs1Wk9hddU/s1600/atlus-shrugged.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDY2Uud6s06EwA7qHHF9Y0ljo5Oo5R5x8OR934CUvuCAHZX_OMBdAUyJq2450JknXEKdLXdm6_MHEzdeU-c14djYuT5OccGp-KMFVBCrnX2vy0CbK18hccBDkLw9l6yskLoKs1Wk9hddU/s320/atlus-shrugged.gif" true="" width="262" /></a></div>
Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-83142254862995977082011-06-14T05:33:00.002-04:002011-06-14T06:27:08.133-04:00I Am Thinking About: THE STORY IN UNSUNG WORDS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEd_Htjvgp_9nmS-079OBIG7rX8v84BcIU1HTYVbBzOdnCoYiENVowY9zr-Pdr6Ozl_X1Vm0OLQXOaO7mKQS9FO4M0kBW041qV5LLwmhVfa8h7WWESkPL7cBQlgU_7f5GxhaKPjwUuGk/s1600/think+ape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEd_Htjvgp_9nmS-079OBIG7rX8v84BcIU1HTYVbBzOdnCoYiENVowY9zr-Pdr6Ozl_X1Vm0OLQXOaO7mKQS9FO4M0kBW041qV5LLwmhVfa8h7WWESkPL7cBQlgU_7f5GxhaKPjwUuGk/s200/think+ape.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>I have spent a lot of time looking more closely at our history, our institutions, and our beliefs. I have found that, upon examination, many are incorrect, or clouded by myth.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">GOSHEN, Ind. Monday, June 6, 2011</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">— A small Indiana college that began playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" for the first time at sporting events last year, upsetting some who believe the song with its images of war and the military undermines the school's pacifist message, plans to review next month whether to continue the practice... Goshen College’s board of directors has suspended the practice in response to complaints. … The board of the Mennonite liberal-arts college has asked its president to come up with a song “that fits with sports tradition, that honors country and that resonates with Goshen College’s core values and respects the views of diverse constituencies,” according to a press release.</span></strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYxdLjdxlCQyZfHZmYYQAQmQXvWgdrUwDwyeRxqdVzZWj3y8Aa-qkxg2GjXNPi_Bo5G3GG7kDklRddo8TdZlRNrbsApfnQHEHHTKlSyf5SzvrliA-2OuVcL0pff1F_75r5O33QLWJgj4/s1600/Star+Spangled+Banner+Flag+at+Smithsonian.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYxdLjdxlCQyZfHZmYYQAQmQXvWgdrUwDwyeRxqdVzZWj3y8Aa-qkxg2GjXNPi_Bo5G3GG7kDklRddo8TdZlRNrbsApfnQHEHHTKlSyf5SzvrliA-2OuVcL0pff1F_75r5O33QLWJgj4/s320/Star+Spangled+Banner+Flag+at+Smithsonian.gif" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original flag in the Smithsonian</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>I must confess, like Goshen College, our <span style="color: blue;">National Anthem</span> has always bothered me. I often thought <span style="color: blue;">America The</span> <span style="color: blue;">Beautiful</span> would have been a much better choice as the song of our nation. After all, the ANTHEM does speak of bombs, rockets, and war…. But, let's turn around and look back.... at the history of <span style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">The Star Spangled Banner</span>…and the words that are never sung....</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPczY0R-mLEyS1Rl683WJ5LFJbHQ6H44iJ3unSMvT7zwi1OmwLqdnbhb_ueZNE4eAMoDGo6aewHVYcNAQpAUOY6pnlcyIz7fB2bCmIcAOp-N-ZinkmYG4O5xrLPoK4ROwyQZKVhgciQ9Q/s1600/war-of-1812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPczY0R-mLEyS1Rl683WJ5LFJbHQ6H44iJ3unSMvT7zwi1OmwLqdnbhb_ueZNE4eAMoDGo6aewHVYcNAQpAUOY6pnlcyIz7fB2bCmIcAOp-N-ZinkmYG4O5xrLPoK4ROwyQZKVhgciQ9Q/s320/war-of-1812.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>The United States of America, quite rightly (in my opinion), went to war with Great Britain in 1812 because we DISAGREED with them over our freedom of the ocean. </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>We resented Britain’s interference with American international trade, their impressment of American sailors, and their obstacles to America’s desire to expand. This led Congress to declare war on Great Britain on June 18, 1812. </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>We managed to keep them at bay for at least two years. We did this even though, as a country, we were not very strong. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yaqvZUH6835yi_EANrqOVrnX7QnnWJ1o7fy4tVnZUbzEWmZPHwtlz3bv1IoYC9MGpoWaEkrlXoDMWxYYl7bl9GXULjiK4Xukn2F_5yteNBThnOO8b04LU5XrKk3DQqnQYM_2QwaGrhI/s1600/battle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yaqvZUH6835yi_EANrqOVrnX7QnnWJ1o7fy4tVnZUbzEWmZPHwtlz3bv1IoYC9MGpoWaEkrlXoDMWxYYl7bl9GXULjiK4Xukn2F_5yteNBThnOO8b04LU5XrKk3DQqnQYM_2QwaGrhI/s320/battle.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>During this period, the Brits were involved in an altercation with Napoleon. At the same time that we declared war on England, Napoleon set off on an invasion of Russia. Everyone expected him to be successful which would result in his complete control of Europe. Great Britain would then be on her own. This was NOT the best of times to be at war AGAIN with America. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzQAFMFkUHo3k3had9FaHziLsv_BAoGuQYsbgLRUIJ6tiuy0K4zyyi3Os7uUR54NVUVgUknyfBeS2BqYZEQlHkFkPladya8dm_V6MDbLRyoispJCKK8EhykbrbAmENxn10SoZPH-WpZs/s1600/3_3_3%252520%252520Napoleon%2525201812%252520%252520Gougaud%252520%252520%2526%252520Rapp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzQAFMFkUHo3k3had9FaHziLsv_BAoGuQYsbgLRUIJ6tiuy0K4zyyi3Os7uUR54NVUVgUknyfBeS2BqYZEQlHkFkPladya8dm_V6MDbLRyoispJCKK8EhykbrbAmENxn10SoZPH-WpZs/s320/3_3_3%252520%252520Napoleon%2525201812%252520%252520Gougaud%252520%252520%2526%252520Rapp.jpg" t8="true" width="242" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>In the beginning the British were outdone by our seamen. Commander Oliver Hazard Perry, sent this message upon winning a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, "We have met the enemy, and they are ours."</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>But, the British navy was mightier and they were blockading New England. They eventually overpowered our ships. And, New England, increasingly strangled by the blockade, was threatening to secede.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrj4yCwY3UeKQLn9YU3j50keSqiieKvtQkGSz7-XztfHtd8L3CWSEQ73TJoJV9CMvkAnu-YQ6MgT5r6yHKxXVrXaY33FC2tnYUvcgFIkK8EEuuJj5XcPQSOB2JiAIMrgHXVF21Kc6ux8/s1600/1812Jansonsinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrj4yCwY3UeKQLn9YU3j50keSqiieKvtQkGSz7-XztfHtd8L3CWSEQ73TJoJV9CMvkAnu-YQ6MgT5r6yHKxXVrXaY33FC2tnYUvcgFIkK8EEuuJj5XcPQSOB2JiAIMrgHXVF21Kc6ux8/s320/1812Jansonsinking.jpg" t8="true" width="247" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>Then, Napoleon was forced, in 1814, to abdicate because he was thrashed by the Russian winter. With this concern out of the way Great Britain could now give America its complete attention. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpA5_ItdkaLDdZM7pW6A_v26Svc9g31xDMK2KRh2dycuuFrnLG4NyaaJXDxLo8CO-wgdZ9uYka2msTc8kV_-AQMdUACFWty4AhUkn52RFq1PDgPWsJPTA3tXMhqAWKFQovqbEXG07W9fE/s1600/image046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpA5_ItdkaLDdZM7pW6A_v26Svc9g31xDMK2KRh2dycuuFrnLG4NyaaJXDxLo8CO-wgdZ9uYka2msTc8kV_-AQMdUACFWty4AhUkn52RFq1PDgPWsJPTA3tXMhqAWKFQovqbEXG07W9fE/s320/image046.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>The British planned a three-pronged attack. </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>From the North they would come down Lake Champlain toward New York, and capture parts of New England. From the South they would travel up the Mississippi, seize New Orleans and shut down the West. The Central prong would go for the Mid-Atlantic states and attack Baltimore because it was the largest port south of New York.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnEYXuRBcJeKef-AgyJDoTeQaZUZ8AvAP6vni83F3cYua9zXyXORbRneEcBYPKGvBBKT_vmaMfvFqT7PGZWe6L_KBFcQaK7ltaVd-dp_uFpuWAKb4tKV0OuNRVE_GydqS0ch8Lvxlt2s/s1600/paper_2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnEYXuRBcJeKef-AgyJDoTeQaZUZ8AvAP6vni83F3cYua9zXyXORbRneEcBYPKGvBBKT_vmaMfvFqT7PGZWe6L_KBFcQaK7ltaVd-dp_uFpuWAKb4tKV0OuNRVE_GydqS0ch8Lvxlt2s/s320/paper_2.gif" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Since America, at that time, was gathered along the Atlantic coast, the taking of Baltimore would have cut the nation in two. </strong><br />
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<strong>The success or failure of this Central prong would determine the fate of America. </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>On August 24, 1814, they arrived on the Atlantic coast capturing Washington, D.C..... With that done, the British proceeded up the Chesapeake Bay, toward Baltimore.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1SEKX09GmEr5bCyOVLg8Cl8Z_vcxWFE0N74seQZOeJ99RBQVI2mp60lH-PlQw7TMR2ZgSfG1ztEpaO_DFsgxleMO5XOFNbpwzRpVf7s0FjF-tNnoPsLZ_midyPd1nwtM9fG-jhJrLcg/s1600/british-army-burning-the-white-house-in-1814-during-the-war-of-1812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1SEKX09GmEr5bCyOVLg8Cl8Z_vcxWFE0N74seQZOeJ99RBQVI2mp60lH-PlQw7TMR2ZgSfG1ztEpaO_DFsgxleMO5XOFNbpwzRpVf7s0FjF-tNnoPsLZ_midyPd1nwtM9fG-jhJrLcg/s320/british-army-burning-the-white-house-in-1814-during-the-war-of-1812.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>At the time, Fort McHenry (OUR fort) controlled Boston Harbor with big guns and 1000 men. In order to take Baltimore the British would have to capture the fort. They arrived on September 12 prepared to do just that.</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KmWYcQruUg7Z0HQ7Fo453s3L3Kdl8L0P_HqaEgdVgoty_01d5xW7UPGWNp7R8isWYVEnnWVLQLspLdmPrOzX5JOqyMfARZvIrVhdvFIUzlR7aerhX3FIbJ4MG_o0pvbU0acmNR5afTA/s1600/mchenry.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KmWYcQruUg7Z0HQ7Fo453s3L3Kdl8L0P_HqaEgdVgoty_01d5xW7UPGWNp7R8isWYVEnnWVLQLspLdmPrOzX5JOqyMfARZvIrVhdvFIUzlR7aerhX3FIbJ4MG_o0pvbU0acmNR5afTA/s1600/mchenry.bmp" t8="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fort McHenry</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong>Meanwhile, the elderly Dr. William Beanes was being held prisoner on one of the British ships having been arrested in Maryland (I do not know why). His lawyer and friend, Francis Scott Key, had come to the ship with the hope of negotiating his release. </strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4DLtR7Vcd02N8yTnnKrfbunfeGdk_8ouwD2IVNf5EA8hp-bEXd1SwfPgILyUUCn5mgDW6a5Ugc8mDXRW3inXLJoYEEWjrgjoyX5DOASeesdYdb7RJuLMJ80lirNLlihpbHlyfM1TDPc/s1600/Key.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4DLtR7Vcd02N8yTnnKrfbunfeGdk_8ouwD2IVNf5EA8hp-bEXd1SwfPgILyUUCn5mgDW6a5Ugc8mDXRW3inXLJoYEEWjrgjoyX5DOASeesdYdb7RJuLMJ80lirNLlihpbHlyfM1TDPc/s320/Key.jpg" t8="true" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Francis Scott Key</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong>Although the British captain of the ship was willing to do so, he told the two Americans that they could not leave right away. </strong><strong><br />
</strong><strong>The bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to begin. It was now the evening of Tuesday, September 13, 1814.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYMQYv7ngn3Tkm71mRl_TX0af7RF4FfS7If5g0E960jcXRc5rt1KvrNDbGL9myO_7EZXutlxGgquqPPiDjxemgpO785gCUUz1NXYw-2N0lChyfiuMWY0A22Tjsly8SismTZ_zcCe71WA/s1600/4_mural_fort_mchenry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYMQYv7ngn3Tkm71mRl_TX0af7RF4FfS7If5g0E960jcXRc5rt1KvrNDbGL9myO_7EZXutlxGgquqPPiDjxemgpO785gCUUz1NXYw-2N0lChyfiuMWY0A22Tjsly8SismTZ_zcCe71WA/s320/4_mural_fort_mchenry.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>From their place on the ship, with the twilight fading, Key and Beanes could see the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLD_rRc-Tex-pNYV-Cg0JcA1UGQw_blURzeIve-SlEeW-7NHQu-w5mvOenjuhx_nVhiT7FbOjxamNBPTlro7BqGN12FJqZE8408Nwb0sFcnTGl4b4MbMuAbKKV9orDwICeHgabpDaE7k/s1600/bombs.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLD_rRc-Tex-pNYV-Cg0JcA1UGQw_blURzeIve-SlEeW-7NHQu-w5mvOenjuhx_nVhiT7FbOjxamNBPTlro7BqGN12FJqZE8408Nwb0sFcnTGl4b4MbMuAbKKV9orDwICeHgabpDaE7k/s320/bombs.gif" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>They watched all through the night. They could hear the bursting of the British bombs. They could see the red glare of their rockets. The men knew the fort was holding because they could see the flag flying in the light of the battle.</strong><br />
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<strong>The British bombardment fell silent toward morning. At this time Key and Beanes could not see what happened…it was still too dark. Had Fort McHenry surrendered or had it held fast? Which flag now flew above the fort? </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRXH8ribrFfUGZClvqoVc81eqBAqEv60gGLGTNtvVa7rktMIwoWnQ9GdaOVDDbh_j0Gs2GDq35k8oHg5EJVe1ukMWSElXb33aY8rljRfRYw4D2TvgdR2uqe4deIOfTl744v1kAKuls9Q/s1600/339927658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBRXH8ribrFfUGZClvqoVc81eqBAqEv60gGLGTNtvVa7rktMIwoWnQ9GdaOVDDbh_j0Gs2GDq35k8oHg5EJVe1ukMWSElXb33aY8rljRfRYw4D2TvgdR2uqe4deIOfTl744v1kAKuls9Q/s320/339927658.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>The men struggled to see as the eastern sky was slowly lit by the dawn. Key and the doctor asking each other again and again "Can you see it? Can you see the flag?"</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIzDYjdBz21M2TdpzODFIQCdfcciOcBd0Sznq5e_IS7UtQQrtt4n5IDFpQ5Rxnquu-H93b14eM5yD9BPyVGVMhhT8AIWM6DTZjxnf88rqlgVPQtuRWfJowb0nvAyfiGSsbeYEz5Xy0XE/s1600/By_Dawn%2527s_Early_Light_1912.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIzDYjdBz21M2TdpzODFIQCdfcciOcBd0Sznq5e_IS7UtQQrtt4n5IDFpQ5Rxnquu-H93b14eM5yD9BPyVGVMhhT8AIWM6DTZjxnf88rqlgVPQtuRWfJowb0nvAyfiGSsbeYEz5Xy0XE/s320/By_Dawn%2527s_Early_Light_1912.png" t8="true" width="251" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>When the battle was done Key wrote a<span style="font-size: large;"> four-stanza</span> poem sharing the events and emotions of this night.</strong><br />
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<strong>It was titled The Defense of Fort McHenry. The poem was published in newspapers, and was immediately popular.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWhYIJV2zNSIhawB4saXh-TWgnH2x2bRBkmwCL86OTQ85irvJCP7Bng7zB4vcudpVZIV8T8gnzCVqZKapFbiVRU2WLBADzvG7SxycjZmUlxo9vXhJgIoWuj87fW5kRtm2Gn2caVyD99Y/s1600/hju.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWhYIJV2zNSIhawB4saXh-TWgnH2x2bRBkmwCL86OTQ85irvJCP7Bng7zB4vcudpVZIV8T8gnzCVqZKapFbiVRU2WLBADzvG7SxycjZmUlxo9vXhJgIoWuj87fW5kRtm2Gn2caVyD99Y/s1600/hju.jpg" t8="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>It was observed that the words fit an old English tune called To Anacreon in Heaven – a mostly unsingable tune because it had a large and very contorted vocal range. But, the words fit the melody so….</strong><br />
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<strong>Key's poem soon became known as The Star Spangled Banner, and in 1931, Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.</strong><br />
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<strong>Now that you have the backgroud of the story, read the words of THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER....<span style="font-size: large;">ALL the</span> <span style="font-size: large;">words that are never sung and few know exist.</span> It is Dr. Beanes who is speaking first….. This is the question he asks of Key: </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUBFKgOSMj1EVZjm6ctSZdN6DKfaE7DCe0BKdl3iUGqg8Q_4a8V7-sTfKzYbWja2Ya9HdVn8bAMXzllQQXMuCFHzTORM1bEbJ_M5LcdFXBpm6ASmEsa_IWzBRXqn1YscZmnml_UNHOSg/s1600/2633242958_60acb9b94f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQUBFKgOSMj1EVZjm6ctSZdN6DKfaE7DCe0BKdl3iUGqg8Q_4a8V7-sTfKzYbWja2Ya9HdVn8bAMXzllQQXMuCFHzTORM1bEbJ_M5LcdFXBpm6ASmEsa_IWzBRXqn1YscZmnml_UNHOSg/s320/2633242958_60acb9b94f.jpg" t8="true" width="212" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong>Key answers:</strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep,</span></em></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71K1ljSOhgrOGUa2DErf5SjyGsEUMlYsPy6iTpKY7mNZNu8K5Wxq9tK0VOGBc1x4MmizrqeqyrsS1HeJLuzMue_BzGkaJKXinzn_yPAhCuVdQ9JkTJ0foaadz13ZeA3XAgxdjFyWKk0o/s1600/2163738584_be700e3ddb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71K1ljSOhgrOGUa2DErf5SjyGsEUMlYsPy6iTpKY7mNZNu8K5Wxq9tK0VOGBc1x4MmizrqeqyrsS1HeJLuzMue_BzGkaJKXinzn_yPAhCuVdQ9JkTJ0foaadz13ZeA3XAgxdjFyWKk0o/s320/2163738584_be700e3ddb.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream.</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave,</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><br />
<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"></span></strong><br />
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<strong>Key continues (with a slap at the British):</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL__hCOY-i8Ax017UhT1AbQS1RB2zC2RXYBeAP1U__y8cd4I_rzBUjH1992AzdwGL0vymXpqfaUOq-Bbu9jKGxFStIyZ9qWFo4FL8iAavn8FYED2XOzMOSn62M9Jp42nmZmRm_jisMoDs/s1600/american-flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL__hCOY-i8Ax017UhT1AbQS1RB2zC2RXYBeAP1U__y8cd4I_rzBUjH1992AzdwGL0vymXpqfaUOq-Bbu9jKGxFStIyZ9qWFo4FL8iAavn8FYED2XOzMOSn62M9Jp42nmZmRm_jisMoDs/s320/american-flag.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">And where is that band who so vauntingly swore, </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">A home and a country should leave us no more?</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution.</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">No refuge could save the hireling and slave,</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave, </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong>This last verse expresses Key's hope for America:</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjf5ZVHwk457FxyhD-C_1PoegzIONrSoY4ehiz1iABcmr9Sr2Uf3xl2sjlBzQT5uylg9DBoe8WM8R3sN3UwxI_nohoqAZQydKdfXpH6HKDbnx4vWFnhwn5hAELR9c87NhKWIdcHIaPXA/s1600/eagle_flag_1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjf5ZVHwk457FxyhD-C_1PoegzIONrSoY4ehiz1iABcmr9Sr2Uf3xl2sjlBzQT5uylg9DBoe8WM8R3sN3UwxI_nohoqAZQydKdfXpH6HKDbnx4vWFnhwn5hAELR9c87NhKWIdcHIaPXA/s320/eagle_flag_1024x768.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Oh! Thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand, </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n - rescued land,</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation. </span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">And this be our motto - "In God is our trust."</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,</span></em></strong><br />
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<em><span style="color: blue;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: blue;">O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"></span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">So today, FLAG DAY, turn around….look at our National Anthem…. See it now with new eyes.....listen to it with new ears……and sing it, ALL OF IT, with a new voice. </span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeD8BzNrEjf978ChrXJyOg9Arsrkz9TMa-BnOe7kRJfbHtdo4gsw7oTnVg78LA4X-1fShFCY-rm6TnmejcbEKd7CyarCelTCJzVJaUVz3Fw8EsOY78cNFSDqx56TLebczCtx59A7YwL8/s1600/work_3317719_2_flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf_the-star-spangled-banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeD8BzNrEjf978ChrXJyOg9Arsrkz9TMa-BnOe7kRJfbHtdo4gsw7oTnVg78LA4X-1fShFCY-rm6TnmejcbEKd7CyarCelTCJzVJaUVz3Fw8EsOY78cNFSDqx56TLebczCtx59A7YwL8/s320/work_3317719_2_flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf_the-star-spangled-banner.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">It is not an anthem of war…it is a tribute, with gratitude, to the survival of our country and to the preservation of our liberty. Our flag is still here...long may it wave!</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-14383140150330567342011-06-04T22:45:00.000-04:002011-06-04T22:45:56.042-04:00The HELLcyon Days of School<strong></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8SkRBX2hUyzK_VpZ3LT1GRLmttZ-qni-Cb_vKKve2NJzdnmAf2t6jtPjQz-oZokKpHuP_dRrp_cJ2pRLKDdpW_EXaQo-11uMGnd4V4RmFGwi-3Dmp8nbuPLwA03kFHHZDUpowP5akSUQ/s1600/schoolhouse%2525202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8SkRBX2hUyzK_VpZ3LT1GRLmttZ-qni-Cb_vKKve2NJzdnmAf2t6jtPjQz-oZokKpHuP_dRrp_cJ2pRLKDdpW_EXaQo-11uMGnd4V4RmFGwi-3Dmp8nbuPLwA03kFHHZDUpowP5akSUQ/s320/schoolhouse%2525202.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Etta K. Barstow was hired in 1870 by the Canton (Massachusetts) School Committee. She was to teach in the Sherman School, a one-room schoolhouse located on Pleasant Street, in District 5 . District 5 was called “Ragged Row.”</strong><br />
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<strong>On the morning of October 5th, she had a confrontation with four of her male students…. Daniel Keliher age 9, John Coffee 11, Jerimiah Keliher 11, and James Cogswell age 13. These boys had presented behavior problems often in class.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RfkqwbA36fdPM5y0lp7FgjDwQTtjSkbkKOYrveZpejAXMBIojJF3UuniPnSvyHy5Qy7psY9w41i0qI7hVoybWO4pbDBgBiLZpai8Po32q-VnYVJurCP4DvDtf3900AOpIqp7g8Xm4lI/s1600/barstow1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RfkqwbA36fdPM5y0lp7FgjDwQTtjSkbkKOYrveZpejAXMBIojJF3UuniPnSvyHy5Qy7psY9w41i0qI7hVoybWO4pbDBgBiLZpai8Po32q-VnYVJurCP4DvDtf3900AOpIqp7g8Xm4lI/s400/barstow1.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><strong>When the four boys would not come inside after morning recess, Miss Barstow shut and locked the door. She went on to teach the rest of her students while the boys yelled and shouted curses outside. </strong><br />
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<strong>Then… close to noon, a rock sailed into windows. It did not hit anything.</strong><br />
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<strong>But, as Miss Barstow walked home for lunch break at Mrs. Baker’s rooming house, the four boys followed her shouting profanities while throwing stones the size of ink bottles at her. </strong><br />
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<strong>She was hit on the back of her neck and head just below the ear. She was also struck on her back. This caused her to stagger and the boys yelled that she was drunk.</strong><br />
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<strong>When Miss Barstow got to Mrs. Baker’s she tried to rest but continued to say she did not feel well. Her legs were weak and she could hardly move. Her landlady suggested she go to Boston to stay with her aunt and seek a doctor. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxGHyWiBebaPyqR3oO9a0cHtrKRMoXDVmO6o1xw2axcYvVjHlC7IUrSi93xUsx3HrRunu4IVZIcfYwV0izvLX42Y0dtj_EO_gKQ-zxfJH7IXAc8sY5I0y_h0cxy-o8qdv06LW1JrTaFo/s1600/barstow2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxGHyWiBebaPyqR3oO9a0cHtrKRMoXDVmO6o1xw2axcYvVjHlC7IUrSi93xUsx3HrRunu4IVZIcfYwV0izvLX42Y0dtj_EO_gKQ-zxfJH7IXAc8sY5I0y_h0cxy-o8qdv06LW1JrTaFo/s320/barstow2.jpg" t8="true" width="260" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>A friend took her to the train and remained with her as she required assistance in seating and in staying conscious. </strong><br />
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<strong>Upon arriving in Boston Etta went in and out of consciousness. Not being told of the attack, the doctor, by the name of Buckingham, took her symptoms to be those of a diabetic condition. By the next day Etta was dead.</strong><br />
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<strong>The death by stoning of this young teacher was greeted with outrage by the residents of Canton. </strong><br />
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<strong>James Cogswell, the 13-year-old, ran away never returning to Canton. However, Daniel and Jerimiah Keliher, and John Coffee were eventually only charged with disturbing a school. The assault on their teacher was not brought to the fore. </strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYq3pt106-1NJZV4pbmdHJCj8yZ97ZEENzNVYoF4HdYtCGheLP7IEv6PyZ3CQDPXjbcUG-CAvsHUeU3TceWP9TbYrC5lgJ2Vu9tguUY6eN2MhZaYDLWSwYhwfk0w_rZd14bkMWCXTXuA/s1600/ca-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYq3pt106-1NJZV4pbmdHJCj8yZ97ZEENzNVYoF4HdYtCGheLP7IEv6PyZ3CQDPXjbcUG-CAvsHUeU3TceWP9TbYrC5lgJ2Vu9tguUY6eN2MhZaYDLWSwYhwfk0w_rZd14bkMWCXTXuA/s320/ca-15.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>The </strong><place><placename><strong>Sherman</strong></placename><strong> </strong><placetype><strong>School</strong></placetype></place><strong> in the background. 1887 photo </strong></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<strong>These three boys were sent to reform school in Westboro. </strong><br />
<strong>This sentence was later appealed. The boys were found guilty of disturbing a school building. They were given probation and ordered to pay a fine for the damages they had done to the school.</strong><br />
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<strong>It is now believed Etta Barstow died from a common result of head trauma. When the stone hit her head it caused an unseen internal injury and bleed, which increased pressure on her brain and killed her the next day.</strong><br />
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<strong>Miss Etta Barstow’s death was ignored for 140 years. She was a teacher killed by her students.</strong><br />
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<strong>The myth of the idyllic LITTLE RED SCHOOLHOUSE was just that...a myth.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLS3VDvt9AfZpiJ60hnc0ec9rNEUKtre7YZUCsSkHeakO9plZdcJ3MZtxlMvImzX49CttnaoVkI21P_nJFb7WvcvmM8AZ-MmUK_Ng00-jEPxPGzCAqB5zvAcTzFHZ_-TGxHhimT48_7xE/s1600/15+red+school+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLS3VDvt9AfZpiJ60hnc0ec9rNEUKtre7YZUCsSkHeakO9plZdcJ3MZtxlMvImzX49CttnaoVkI21P_nJFb7WvcvmM8AZ-MmUK_Ng00-jEPxPGzCAqB5zvAcTzFHZ_-TGxHhimT48_7xE/s320/15+red+school+house.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>A great number of the children were hostile, unmanageable, and prone to violence.</strong><br />
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<strong>Add to this mix students ranging in age from five to sixteen (some maybe even in their twenties) all crammed into one room. It was an open invitation to a great deal of trouble.</strong><br />
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<strong>It was easy for the teacher’s role to become more that of a warden than an imparter of knowledge. The necessity of the physical over the intellectual increased.</strong><br />
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<strong>School boards, especially those on the frontier, often preferred physically strong men as teachers. It was not uncommon to encounter, among the boys, fights involving biting, eye gouging, and all and out slug fests.</strong><br />
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<strong>It was not unusual for a teacher to be driven out of the classroom in a matter of days. Some did not even last that long.</strong><br />
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<strong>In the 1830’s a Tennessee school teacher was stabbed and dropped into a well (he lived) and the schoolhouse burned down.</strong><br />
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<strong>“In the Flat Creek district”, said Indiana historian and novelist Edward Eggleston, “the boys have driven off the last two schoolmasters and licked the one afore them.”</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Attacks on teachers by older male students were a familiar part of nineteenth-century school practice. Teachers in these often rural schools literally fought to prove their right to their positions and often resorted to extreme uses of corporal punishment to maintain them.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYusDQbLeivsB9-gHb1XTOFHBMxkxmP0C5xgpQNtbpcrwVOyjFypNBk8Vk_gj8V2qtaBOT3zi8XaG_ahFNEJDYHdS28TUsOL6aC3irY5DgSyVr84O5EW6vBx1uh9vOXsw38x9hQ3Z6cY/s1600/corporal-punishment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYusDQbLeivsB9-gHb1XTOFHBMxkxmP0C5xgpQNtbpcrwVOyjFypNBk8Vk_gj8V2qtaBOT3zi8XaG_ahFNEJDYHdS28TUsOL6aC3irY5DgSyVr84O5EW6vBx1uh9vOXsw38x9hQ3Z6cY/s1600/corporal-punishment.jpg" t8="true" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>These violent attacks were a direct challenge to the schoolmaster's authority. While the application of physical domination was one way in which male teachers established their clear and unchallenged authority, women teachers also experienced physical and psychological intimidation that required courage and determination to withstand.</strong><br />
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<strong>Mary Ellen Chase described her first day at a school in New England..”I stormed up and down….This pathetic pretense of courage aided by the mad flourishing of my razor strap, brought forth…the expression of respectful fear on the faces of the young giants”</strong><br />
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<strong>In many instances, parents did not interfere in the pupils' attempts to run the teacher out of town and did not punish them when they did.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMOh4-m4ErV9tXfvElsPdBvRz7NQBLMrUUYCSOZjgmWsS5z2IxzpHz0Nq9SzijLKm3df_CLAougmTr3iB6ieUFrBWQm-Bjc8rKbmCu2xbLEX9pL7PpO-eVuKBHv__ml01ngLIphwh8yY/s1600/hjk.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMOh4-m4ErV9tXfvElsPdBvRz7NQBLMrUUYCSOZjgmWsS5z2IxzpHz0Nq9SzijLKm3df_CLAougmTr3iB6ieUFrBWQm-Bjc8rKbmCu2xbLEX9pL7PpO-eVuKBHv__ml01ngLIphwh8yY/s320/hjk.bmp" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>It became a form of entertainment in some villages to observe the encounters between new teachers and their male students. </strong><br />
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<strong>So...what is it like now...in TODAY’S classrooms….?</strong><br />
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<strong>Recent data shows that 39 out of every 1,000 teachers experience some sort of crime, and the true rate may be much higher since most incidents go unreported. (Department of Health and Human Services. Center for Disease Control and Prevention. Violence Against Teachers and School Staff) </strong><br />
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<strong>Teachers are the recipients of verbal abuse, racial and sexist slurs, repeated intimidation, threats of physical violence, vandalism of personal belongings and persistent classroom disruption. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMDCxawntLnIWzKvF1K1FMHeqy5yYnna20WF6yArz_J8xJDDhsmfxisxF7AxTKYHcCTDreIaZuGwdmEnnSIhdYjV_o9OOidKhyDSPI_CfgWA_O9o1oLdZfpeW2dOnXZnD43PB9yl7kms/s1600/article-1164829-02D8BB280000044D-550_468x299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMDCxawntLnIWzKvF1K1FMHeqy5yYnna20WF6yArz_J8xJDDhsmfxisxF7AxTKYHcCTDreIaZuGwdmEnnSIhdYjV_o9OOidKhyDSPI_CfgWA_O9o1oLdZfpeW2dOnXZnD43PB9yl7kms/s320/article-1164829-02D8BB280000044D-550_468x299.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Statistics show a trend of violence toward teachers that is increasing globally.</strong><br />
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<strong>More than one-quarter of U.S. teachers are threatened on the job by their students, according to research by APA’s Task Force on Violence Against Teachers presented during APA’s Annual Convention.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlQJS1jdqSC2fWzR7qiYLI9h1wej4BeAvXfd-9FRyB6ApBkW456RjVc58ooxyC_U6jDAJW9wy18gRui8ODB2BNmDK1cCtFRDIjiUGzzxwJobBeFWutI52zx5h_HF-keHJ5rvj6gmqbBw/s1600/article-1248951-082CC6D1000005DC-968_468x373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlQJS1jdqSC2fWzR7qiYLI9h1wej4BeAvXfd-9FRyB6ApBkW456RjVc58ooxyC_U6jDAJW9wy18gRui8ODB2BNmDK1cCtFRDIjiUGzzxwJobBeFWutI52zx5h_HF-keHJ5rvj6gmqbBw/s320/article-1248951-082CC6D1000005DC-968_468x373.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>A survey of 4,735 U.S. teachers conducted in 2010 found that 27 percent said they had been verbally threatened by a student in the past year. In addition, 37 percent had been the target of obscene or sexual remarks from students, and 31 percent said a student had made an obscene gesture to them or groped them. Another 19 percent said they had been intimidated by a student; 13 percent by a student’s parent.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggP6RVnxFlKzqR8P_R_C1MCNQ86gnnRLBS7ziCh9Pyqn-P-pMwJ60DeQprqOs2Z-EoSBFT9N9VpfsK6YwdrGU9nGdegpWaYiJWlcdJxTiOciaO5wZZ3pVssz27MWWfrlTtJkOm06XSVc/s1600/5027208722_f397039388_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhggP6RVnxFlKzqR8P_R_C1MCNQ86gnnRLBS7ziCh9Pyqn-P-pMwJ60DeQprqOs2Z-EoSBFT9N9VpfsK6YwdrGU9nGdegpWaYiJWlcdJxTiOciaO5wZZ3pVssz27MWWfrlTtJkOm06XSVc/s320/5027208722_f397039388_b.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>“These numbers did not differ by school setting, by gender of the teacher or by years of teaching,” said Task Force Chair Dorothy L. Espelage, PhD, of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_RKani_4FH2E30p8_Xzh0kNiLevl2A_izrV3bea_DcG15KnPX47C2cRRn4weoUCBPoz0BVDnK6gfX9MSb4NLdLSMnNqYIWgvqO37vVBi9bgArSeKdJqfvY7H9WSRI4qdXYFYjzXT3mg/s1600/MARD-0016-OneRoomSchoolHouse1-LG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_RKani_4FH2E30p8_Xzh0kNiLevl2A_izrV3bea_DcG15KnPX47C2cRRn4weoUCBPoz0BVDnK6gfX9MSb4NLdLSMnNqYIWgvqO37vVBi9bgArSeKdJqfvY7H9WSRI4qdXYFYjzXT3mg/s320/MARD-0016-OneRoomSchoolHouse1-LG.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong>Some more statistics:</strong><br />
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<strong>• 5 percent of teachers had visited a physician as the result of an attack.</strong><br />
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<strong>• 15 percent had been physically attacked but did not see a physician.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aWYc5x27zQGd_vxVJYbaoUAqis3vfaQa9D-P20JychzQB3PBjBG42h5gvYQp6spXSlQfUgv5WzVNmV_UQ7ekJgmHG9z2abRzv9xcniIlGX4CFFhnjWWA8HYK3nhuZwtELaQAifA1sLU/s1600/school-house_2_lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aWYc5x27zQGd_vxVJYbaoUAqis3vfaQa9D-P20JychzQB3PBjBG42h5gvYQp6spXSlQfUgv5WzVNmV_UQ7ekJgmHG9z2abRzv9xcniIlGX4CFFhnjWWA8HYK3nhuZwtELaQAifA1sLU/s320/school-house_2_lg.gif" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong>• 25 percent had their property damaged by a student.</strong><br />
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<strong>• 22 percent said a student had thrown something at them that year.</strong><br />
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<strong>• 13 percent reported that parents had thrown things at them.</strong><br />
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<strong>Each year, 253,100 (7%) teachers are threatened with injury and they can be divided into the following categories by: </strong><br />
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<strong>Locale</strong><br />
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<strong>• 109,800 (43%) in cities </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wf5qMaQwZiHtTyLQm88XNhHXWB9FAiM9EexGfWVptrAjIO-VrFxgV0IFcG1jE9JRfgQFQZy5k8WZadmNJGpRd2P8e3H5MxOMefvK_IHbmX7KEW3HcwA0sTCaG-xoHTagt8-8D3cuYG8/s1600/little_red_schoolhouse_zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wf5qMaQwZiHtTyLQm88XNhHXWB9FAiM9EexGfWVptrAjIO-VrFxgV0IFcG1jE9JRfgQFQZy5k8WZadmNJGpRd2P8e3H5MxOMefvK_IHbmX7KEW3HcwA0sTCaG-xoHTagt8-8D3cuYG8/s320/little_red_schoolhouse_zoom.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong>• 78,100 (31%) in suburbs </strong><br />
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<strong>• 27,500 (11%) in towns </strong><br />
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<strong>• 37,700 (15%) in rural areas</strong><br />
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<strong>Level</strong><strong> </strong><strong>• 139,400 (55%) in secondary schools </strong><br />
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<strong>• 113,700 (45%) in elementary schools</strong><br />
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<strong>Gender</strong><br />
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<strong>• 78,500 (31%) male teachers</strong><br />
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<strong>• 174,500 (69%) female teachers</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM7RXYXuuxxdc8kDT_WGRkLtzDZ1y328PfX-kQk7a1insAxetjvvZJeRQPhyphenhyphenYmWA7VJ3YmAqoKRgxJHXGGg6tvRRTxUS3ENnJdU8v9pTCpws5-DqPszFTf4NqUg9jeR9D2sVy7zNyAb4/s1600/50259_278302492381_2562689_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxM7RXYXuuxxdc8kDT_WGRkLtzDZ1y328PfX-kQk7a1insAxetjvvZJeRQPhyphenhyphenYmWA7VJ3YmAqoKRgxJHXGGg6tvRRTxUS3ENnJdU8v9pTCpws5-DqPszFTf4NqUg9jeR9D2sVy7zNyAb4/s1600/50259_278302492381_2562689_n.jpg" t8="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>I have been a teacher for 23 years…..the one thing I CAN say is that I have yet to be stoned.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLSQ2Rdi40qKnLHpczwzThyphenhyphenv3YGVSxxq5GHlctFrfaAy9fcZ995vQtjj-rL-ytR0fj4lWQcefDK1jmyVbQMbBrCcG9n-ILujxK28GRHXmLfxRx8plQa-aYByT6As_aneuj8wgaxdo8fw/s1600/thank+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLSQ2Rdi40qKnLHpczwzThyphenhyphenv3YGVSxxq5GHlctFrfaAy9fcZ995vQtjj-rL-ytR0fj4lWQcefDK1jmyVbQMbBrCcG9n-ILujxK28GRHXmLfxRx8plQa-aYByT6As_aneuj8wgaxdo8fw/s1600/thank+you.jpg" t8="true" /></a></div><strong><br />
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</strong>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-50473161790097991762011-05-05T17:38:00.002-04:002011-05-08T10:47:36.453-04:00BENEATH THE UNION LABEL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfC4khSqQSNFOqDpikI3Sx9Dk5iKL2z0v7lts76j_dZgYIDGHUizT4aDKHrAOTuI0esoUrHCPkJb0WbRBE7xyu07ojU8UJV0E3A_a3VTLOPYGyrMXvTzpGNLzc8tsHc9VkcmT325yk90/s1600/imagesCAT9TM92.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfC4khSqQSNFOqDpikI3Sx9Dk5iKL2z0v7lts76j_dZgYIDGHUizT4aDKHrAOTuI0esoUrHCPkJb0WbRBE7xyu07ojU8UJV0E3A_a3VTLOPYGyrMXvTzpGNLzc8tsHc9VkcmT325yk90/s1600/imagesCAT9TM92.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Based in Washington, DC, the 3.1 million-member National Education Association (NEA) is the largest labor union in the United States. </strong><br />
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<strong>The NEA’s stated mission is “to advocate for education professionals and to unite our members and the nation to fulfill the promise of public education to prepare every student to succeed in a diverse and interdependent world.”</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwic6O9lfFP2G8C2k-UKrnXmcccsSA-C5AyHUSHpiOKl7huqTP8ESNfoIQA_gr442NBmEiu4vuyQ_Ijp5EcsBrO6oNxrRfSfIgf8xOIfvWgG74dYEcKPma0Qv3R-3NO7eQdvh6bB8WRs/s1600/bgt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="122" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbwic6O9lfFP2G8C2k-UKrnXmcccsSA-C5AyHUSHpiOKl7huqTP8ESNfoIQA_gr442NBmEiu4vuyQ_Ijp5EcsBrO6oNxrRfSfIgf8xOIfvWgG74dYEcKPma0Qv3R-3NO7eQdvh6bB8WRs/s320/bgt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>The NEA was founded in 1850 as the National Teachers Association, and adopted its present name in 1857. Promoting government-owned public schools and “modern” pedagogical ideas, this union permitted no private school teachers to join its ranks.</strong><br />
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<strong>These government-owned-and-run schools were modeled on statist European education in Prussia, and attracted social activist teachers who saw public school students as perfect subjects for re-engineering society. </strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95Ajw3zcfc_4L7LrrTX-96pMWRIkmHI71gtH2rX3O8x0PkCS_n9InOd8T3mY9YJSZXGk70iQgGA1JAS-2aNAYDzZwHDuSSMV_W8IaHQXX2c_kmMYrJ3sS4NNsKC76kKczs__Wwe8In0I/s1600/mann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95Ajw3zcfc_4L7LrrTX-96pMWRIkmHI71gtH2rX3O8x0PkCS_n9InOd8T3mY9YJSZXGk70iQgGA1JAS-2aNAYDzZwHDuSSMV_W8IaHQXX2c_kmMYrJ3sS4NNsKC76kKczs__Wwe8In0I/s1600/mann.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mann</td></tr>
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<strong>That remolding began with the anti-Catholic objectives of Horace Mann (1796-1859) and expanded to the anti-religious humanism of John Dewey (1859-1952).</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFFgl0zVTrP5GsLGJZki9W8C6Xo94K0VYFpR-25B16-NxQjrGDo0XqR3aKl0fKY8Co_wibgDxm-Io3k72GftxjLPDbXSIhUgDqx5jZ7jl1jd7h2YZdmpHLHkAkDmVOsTRMDyrupBJUSU/s1600/dewey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFFgl0zVTrP5GsLGJZki9W8C6Xo94K0VYFpR-25B16-NxQjrGDo0XqR3aKl0fKY8Co_wibgDxm-Io3k72GftxjLPDbXSIhUgDqx5jZ7jl1jd7h2YZdmpHLHkAkDmVOsTRMDyrupBJUSU/s1600/dewey.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dewey</td></tr>
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<strong>John Dewey, an avowed humanist/ socialist, was made honorary president of the NEA in 1932. He traveled to Russia in the 1930s to help organize and implement the Marxist educational system there. Today he is known in America as the "Father of Progressive Education." In 1935, Dewey became the president of the League of Industrial Democracy, which was originally called the Intercollegiate Socialist Society. </strong><br />
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<strong>In a 1935 report presented at the 72nd annual NEA convention, the union's future Executive Secretary Willard Givens wrote: “A dying laissez-faire must be completely destroyed and all of us … must be subjected to a large degree of social control…. The major function of the school is the social orientation of the individual. It must seek to give him understanding of the transition to a new social order.” </strong><br />
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<strong>In the 1960s and 1970s, teachers were becoming unionized at a faster pace than ever before. Precisely at this time, student SAT scores, a popular and objective achievement barometer, deteriorated dramatically. Confronted by this embarrassing fact, the NEA responded by calling for the abolition of standardized testing of students.</strong><br />
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<strong>In recent decades the NEA has been outspoken about its positions vis a vis a host of social and political topics, including abortion, sex education, teen pregnancy, school prayer, socialized medicine, affordable housing, drug testing, prisoner rights, and bilingual education. In July 1997 the union formally adopted a series of social justice programs.</strong><br />
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<strong>Nine years later, at its 2006 national convention, the NEA proposed that all public schools should unequivocally support homosexual marriage and other forms of marriage (polygamy, etc.). In the NEA’s view, this perspective should be transmitted -- via classroom instruction and textbooks alike -- to all children at all age levels, without any requirement for the permission or knowledge of parents.</strong><br />
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<strong>At its 2007 national convention in Philadelphia, the NEA passed a number of additional resolutions -- some founded on the axiom that American society is inherently discriminatory and unjust, and others advocating massive increases in taxpayer funding of school programs and extra-curricular activities. </strong><br />
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<strong>In the NEA's estimation, America's alleged inequities are by no means limited to the domestic sphere but extend also to U.S. foreign policy. After 9/11, for instance, the union's position was that America had long mistreated and exploited the peoples of other nations, and thus essentially had sown the seeds of the rage that ultimately found its expression in the 9/11 attacks.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sYC0dhHDf3fRNhD3QnI1m6Nn6B0VZzJtwmONXxSMNrh57i6XlNTrtAyMIN-O38ybNKHaCZOw94uaMWIH1sfG7mFGj1EHO2j6pFgBGeCecluRtwxw0szn-d_WNtKDqXodFNcmSpx87AM/s1600/9-11-towers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sYC0dhHDf3fRNhD3QnI1m6Nn6B0VZzJtwmONXxSMNrh57i6XlNTrtAyMIN-O38ybNKHaCZOw94uaMWIH1sfG7mFGj1EHO2j6pFgBGeCecluRtwxw0szn-d_WNtKDqXodFNcmSpx87AM/s320/9-11-towers.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Immediately after 9/11, the NEA issued guidelines on how teachers should discuss the topic with their students. These guidelines stressed the need for children to be tolerant and respectful of all cultures -- and said virtually nothing about the fact that the U.S. was at war with an enemy that was aiming to annihilate it. The NEA came so close to blaming America for having provoked the 9/11 attacks, that a public outcry ensued and the union was forced to remove the teacher guidelines from its website.</strong><br />
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<strong>In the summer of 2002, as the first anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks neared, the NEA again posted guidelines on its national website stating that classroom teachers should not “suggest any group [was] responsible” for the previous year's atrocities. Rather, the union advised teachers to have their students “discuss historical instances of American intolerance.” </strong><br />
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<strong>The union adamantly opposes merit pay (or "performance contracting") for public school teachers -- characterizing such a system as “detrimental to public education." Delegates to the summer 2000 NEA convention openly declared their categorical opposition to “any … system of compensation based on an evaluation of an education employee’s performance.” In 2007 the union elaborated, “competency testing must not be used as a condition of employment, license retention, evaluation, placement, ranking, or promotion of licensed teachers”</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgcFF-HRzB9GMi841Vlf_7zERdJsWhCD6mp3VRrOEOSiCrlpl1P5lJYga_yW0zPaDhnlbZjYzf18AuhMdMjroukuCFWo6rKPkT5gQQ0ged-jabjB6WuAiW1QctnxMQGQ0per8_o8GcpU/s1600/nhy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgcFF-HRzB9GMi841Vlf_7zERdJsWhCD6mp3VRrOEOSiCrlpl1P5lJYga_yW0zPaDhnlbZjYzf18AuhMdMjroukuCFWo6rKPkT5gQQ0ged-jabjB6WuAiW1QctnxMQGQ0per8_o8GcpU/s1600/nhy.jpg" /></a><strong>Not only is the NEA opposed to merit pay, but for decades it has manifested a marked hostility toward outstanding teachers. </strong></div><strong><br />
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<strong>In 1971, the NEA publication, "Schools for the '70s and Beyond: A Call to Action," the NEA declares: </strong><br />
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<strong>"Teachers who conform to the traditional institutional mode are out of place. They might find fulfillment as tap-dancers, or guards in maximum security prisons or proprietors of reducing salons, or agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation – but they damage teaching, children and themselves by staying in the classroom. "</strong><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN53YX7K182rfJVO9dxLUX-K6k3MY39EdfjkP0OytGgiO29-ZgXVlyqZx6dmEY3nxGrpuTsSpPCz9fckz5TN-MUtFXBDyLWjCd-C6hY_ck4mexy8JCI1Y-UGgvrxPAfO2kxdq-t3rIBkY/s1600/bde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN53YX7K182rfJVO9dxLUX-K6k3MY39EdfjkP0OytGgiO29-ZgXVlyqZx6dmEY3nxGrpuTsSpPCz9fckz5TN-MUtFXBDyLWjCd-C6hY_ck4mexy8JCI1Y-UGgvrxPAfO2kxdq-t3rIBkY/s1600/bde.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Escalante</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong><br />
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<strong>The example of world-famous math teacher Jaime Escalante is instructive. According to Escalante (the subject of the 1988 Hollywood movie Stand and Deliver), who developed the most successful inner-city math program in America, teacher union officials chastised him for attracting “too many” students to his calculus classes. When Escalante finally resigned from the high school which he and his students had made famous, local teacher union officials circulated a celebratory note that read: “We got him out!”</strong><br />
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<strong>The NEA is similarly opposed to vouchers which would permit parents to divert a portion of their tax dollars away from the public school system, and to use those funds instead to help cover the tuition costs for private schools to which they might prefer to send their children.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsz2K44iWGlsILjUIAOdwd_JmejMAQhWpzeLNb7166WuNH8RhXU1LcsKCBMyWABXRMKlxSUo3sKdzkel4x_w6K93QC-TKKIj-2YmWmy_hq95aa11fHUI3MLEVKO1cxdZEWrN_Y6tKaks/s1600/imagesCAUN0TZC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsz2K44iWGlsILjUIAOdwd_JmejMAQhWpzeLNb7166WuNH8RhXU1LcsKCBMyWABXRMKlxSUo3sKdzkel4x_w6K93QC-TKKIj-2YmWmy_hq95aa11fHUI3MLEVKO1cxdZEWrN_Y6tKaks/s1600/imagesCAUN0TZC.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>In the NEA's calculus, such voucher programs "compromise the Association's commitment to free, equitable, universal, and quality public education for every student.</strong><br />
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<strong>Specifically, the NEA's closest political ties are with the Democratic Party. In 1976 the union used its financial resources and manpower to help elect Jimmy Carter to the U.S. presidency. After the election, Carter in turn thanked the union by creating the Department of Education in 1979, prompting one NEA executive to boast that this was the only union in the United States with its own cabinet department. </strong><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sgzGKRnXPmg0-YtR-Lq7kOaLMKPppGkjuBsElDQxju0yWA806JoHd3O3je5g3UWfh93gj19Y9irFoT-2zC-UPcYY0gSW3Q8vagrzruXf5yyA3EPkhb5_LTG-6bNFDcDAOD_NSypwtIo/s1600/qwe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sgzGKRnXPmg0-YtR-Lq7kOaLMKPppGkjuBsElDQxju0yWA806JoHd3O3je5g3UWfh93gj19Y9irFoT-2zC-UPcYY0gSW3Q8vagrzruXf5yyA3EPkhb5_LTG-6bNFDcDAOD_NSypwtIo/s1600/qwe.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Today the NEA is a member organization of the America Votes coalition of get-out-the-vote organizations. America Votes is itself a member of the so-called Shadow Party, a nationwide network of activist groups whose agendas are ideologically Left, and which are engaged in campaigning for the Democrats. NEA’s fellow America Votes coalition members include: ACORN, America Coming Together, the AFL-CIO (American Federation of Labor – Congress of Industrial Organizations); AFSCME (American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees); the American Federation of Teachers; the Association of Trial Lawyers of America (renamed the American Association for Justice); the Defenders of Wildlife Action Fund; Democracy For America; EMILY's List; the League of Conservation Voters; the Media Fund; the MoveOn.org Voter Fund; the NAACP National Voter Fund; NARAL Pro-Choice America; People for the American Way; the Planned Parenthood Action Fund; the Service Employees International Union; the Sierra Club; USAction; and 21st Century Democrats.</span></strong><br />
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<strong>Of the $341 million the NEA received from September 2004 to August 2005, some $295 million came from member dues. In turn, many of those revenues were used to promote political agendas and candidates -- almost all of them Democrats. For several decades the NEA has been among the largest contributors of money and personnel to the Democratic Party and its candidates. Between 1990 and 2008, 93 percent of the union's political donations went to Democrats. </strong><br />
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<strong>Studies have shown that as few as 40 percent of NEA members are Democrats, the remaining 60 percent splitting evenly between Republicans and independents. According to the NEA’s own internal polling, half of the union's members identify themselves as conservative. Yet the NEA, like other unions, claims an absolute right to spend dues as it sees fit, regardless of the viewpoints of the teachers it nominally represents.</strong><br />
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<strong>Because the NEA is a tax-exempt organization, the federal government places certain restrictions on how the union may use its immense revenues. Specifically, the government requires that whatever funds a union earmarks for political activities designed to influence an election, must be disclosed on IRS Forms 990 and 1120-POL. The latter of these must be filed by any tax-exempt group whose political expenditures exceed $100 in a single calendar year, and requires some disclosure about the details of those donations. </strong><br />
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<strong>Yet from 1994-96 the NEA reported that it spent no money at all on politics. This is because an honest disclosure of its political expenditures would have entitled union members, if they objected to having their mandatory dues used to finance Democrat causes, to recover the portion of those dues that had been so earmarked. Also, union revenues used for partisan political purposes were taxable in certain cases.</strong><br />
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<strong>Beginning in 2005, new federal rules required large labor unions like the NEA to report in greater detail (to the U.S. Department of Labor) how they spent their money. Under these new disclosure regulations, it was confirmed that an immense amount of NEA money was being spent for purposes having nothing to do with the union's purported priorities (i.e., better wages, benefits, and working conditions for teachers and school staff).</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYj3qBk_F91ShgDW-kGAkb3PRsjhT3XqEEvDAgL73ENToc1GugSL11RgF-bL-v4X2xUbPXkhhXUm-T1FEoF5ljhluo3KlH6dSseptShF072y_T8VRQuSwuN_A4Cw6WQzKOBxliZ2DQJo/s1600/imagesCAO3W34Y.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYj3qBk_F91ShgDW-kGAkb3PRsjhT3XqEEvDAgL73ENToc1GugSL11RgF-bL-v4X2xUbPXkhhXUm-T1FEoF5ljhluo3KlH6dSseptShF072y_T8VRQuSwuN_A4Cw6WQzKOBxliZ2DQJo/s1600/imagesCAO3W34Y.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> For example, the NEA reported that during the 2004-05 fiscal year, it had spent $56.8 million on "union administration," $25 million on "political activities and lobbying," and $65.5 million on "contributions, gifts, and grants." In other words, it is possible that up to $90.5 million (the sum of the latter two categories of expenditures) was earmarked for leftist political candidates, organizations, and causes. </strong><br />
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<strong>As of 2006, the NEA's $58 million payroll included over 600 employees and officers, more than half of whom earned salaries exceeding $100,000 per year. NEA President Reg Weaver's salary was $439,000. As of 2004-05, NEA Vice President Dennis Van Roekel earned $273,000, and Secretary-Treasurer Lily Eskelsen earned $272,000. By contrast, the average classroom teacher earned $48,000.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE489kyGPyPid4khbac4MOjB_6RKl1GELFTBG4saLF66hY8NaISzQ_uQz1nW4ua67K-AcYPNzDqGpUuzOesNMAiDWJ53OB4nHciaULk0oSpSNysCC-H7FR90XloQ27tzoFlWNg3GVv_Gk/s1600/vbg.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE489kyGPyPid4khbac4MOjB_6RKl1GELFTBG4saLF66hY8NaISzQ_uQz1nW4ua67K-AcYPNzDqGpUuzOesNMAiDWJ53OB4nHciaULk0oSpSNysCC-H7FR90XloQ27tzoFlWNg3GVv_Gk/s1600/vbg.bmp" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">According to its 2007 financial report, the NEA’s total assets were $188,710,730. Its total receipts for the year were $352,958,087. Moreover, the NEA's aggressive lobbying of Congress has enabled it to benefit from an archaic law freeing it from having to pay its $1.6 million in annual property taxes. No other labor union in America has been able to negotiate such an arrangement.</span></strong><br />
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<strong>Back in the 1970s, it was saying, "We are the biggest potential striking force in the country. We are determined to control the direction of education. We will become the foremost political force in the country." Since then, it thoroughly has infiltrated the U.S. Department of Education. It runs thousands of its members through "political-action workshops," sometimes giving graduate-study credit to attendees. In one election year alone, its political-action committees threw some $250 million into Democratic campaigns.</strong><br />
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<strong>The NEA's openly avowed goal today: "To tap the legal, political and economic powers of the U.S. Congress. We want ... sufficient clout [to] roam the halls of Congress and collect votes to reorder the priorities of the United States of America." </strong><br />
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<strong>Teachers who join the union usually belong to one of two groups. The first group joins for access to specific union benefits. One is liability insurance. Lawsuits for sexual harassment, physical abuse, and racial discrimination have grown steadily in the last few decades and can threaten a teacher's job and reputation. Another benefit is protection against hostile board members with petty grievances through the local collective bargaining agreement. Unfortunately, both are necessities in today's education business. These teachers also feel that the NEA is their best hope for obtaining higher salaries and a voice in the administration of their schools. </strong><br />
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<strong>The other group joins because they<span style="font-size: large;"> have</span> to, their school districts and states have agreed to allow a closed shop to exist, where all teachers must pay some level of union dues. Few teachers join because they wholeheartedly believe in the political and social agenda of the NEA. </strong><br />
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<strong>The uniqueness of the National Education Association is found in the fact that it is a near monopoly supplier of teachers to a government enforced monopoly consumer, the public schools. As the NEA has grown in power politically, it has also been able to govern the destiny of this public school monopoly to its own benefit. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNqS74xG1oxug-tY-Y6JESvBQkUdsTkJnDwD3APieMnryyOvWBk1dFJiulg7nqJrWjGOu45sPeiYu8_7l35Pzn43ok4jw8NFywl_8rZDXhTvFO61xwd0eAWGvDb9WhTqYC4Fjs2WAZos/s1600/41150_1599584628297_1196469673_1704214_5362674_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoNqS74xG1oxug-tY-Y6JESvBQkUdsTkJnDwD3APieMnryyOvWBk1dFJiulg7nqJrWjGOu45sPeiYu8_7l35Pzn43ok4jw8NFywl_8rZDXhTvFO61xwd0eAWGvDb9WhTqYC4Fjs2WAZos/s1600/41150_1599584628297_1196469673_1704214_5362674_n.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>The NEA has publicly boasted of its plan to seize control of the agencies and boards that decide who is allowed to teach and what is to be taught. The NEA has become the most powerful special-interest group in the United States. Their lobbying has brought about a 17-fold increase in federal education spending in the last 20 years. </strong><br />
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<strong>In the January 1946 NEA Journal, editor Joy Elmer Morgan wrote an editorial titled, "The Teacher and World Government," which stated: </strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>"In the struggle to establish an adequate world government, the teacher ... can do much to prepare the hearts and minds of children for global understanding and cooperation ... At the very top of all the agencies which will assure the coming of world government must stand the school, the teacher and the organized profession. </strong>"<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX-j0nU379jeEvrSD9GAWgTRGRC_Dn4kLZgy4n0Mh_5QcREb5dBin6pAU77gjbbDlVIFePWm2eHnvkt24uRfOpLjKOBg31KxAa9Z9-nskJCdIasDdZh5X1VoE2ODZiQ6Jg_A0O4NfCNQ/s1600/nea-Bob-Chanin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX-j0nU379jeEvrSD9GAWgTRGRC_Dn4kLZgy4n0Mh_5QcREb5dBin6pAU77gjbbDlVIFePWm2eHnvkt24uRfOpLjKOBg31KxAa9Z9-nskJCdIasDdZh5X1VoE2ODZiQ6Jg_A0O4NfCNQ/s320/nea-Bob-Chanin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Bob Chanin, General Counsel to the National Education Association, recently retired after 41 years of service. In his farewell address to the NEA convention earlier this summer,</strong><br />
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<strong>Mr. Chanin said the following:</strong><br />
<strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">“Despite what some among us would like to believe it is not because of our creative ideas. It is not because of the merit of our positions. It is not because we care about children and it is not because we have a vision of a great public school for every child. NEA and its affiliates are effective advocates because we have power.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">And we have power because there are more than 3.2 million people who are willing to pay us hundreds of million of dollars in dues each year because they believe that we are the unions that can most effectively represent them; the union that can protect their rights and advance their interests as education employees."</span></strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihe4zxaKOi6biB5iYhriJO7ylNKy4Pt0vFgcxuNA9esV_dyTFA_j36NoauFEJEiI-UDGJTV9jyhM7zrwZ2lMRFDb8TzU91Jo8BfS0-BDM4ojYPmxWYSwjixdCsMm9noqBDRMg5ZBpMAmU/s1600/the-lord-of-the-rings--the-one-ring-3d-screensaver_558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihe4zxaKOi6biB5iYhriJO7ylNKy4Pt0vFgcxuNA9esV_dyTFA_j36NoauFEJEiI-UDGJTV9jyhM7zrwZ2lMRFDb8TzU91Jo8BfS0-BDM4ojYPmxWYSwjixdCsMm9noqBDRMg5ZBpMAmU/s320/the-lord-of-the-rings--the-one-ring-3d-screensaver_558.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong>One ring to rule them all...</strong></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">The current budget of the NEA is more than $355 million and it spends more on campaign contributions than do ExxonMobil, Microsoft, Wal-Mart, and the AFL-CIO combined.</span></strong>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-50069242804068101572011-04-19T17:00:00.000-04:002011-04-19T17:00:13.080-04:00FROM PRUSSIA WITH LOVE<strong></strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHjjBZQbjGEqQuI2mCcTVJc-X9xlViqZFIYqsSbWDio-uU4nSVXLH2tu5_5mkp0oi2tnjxaPh7GofHyME5HAswjqDeOu3jdACJukT0f7Ei2woi-j-JwFA7zrhkA_lBLMkIbm6ju6GQcE/s1600/jena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZHjjBZQbjGEqQuI2mCcTVJc-X9xlViqZFIYqsSbWDio-uU4nSVXLH2tu5_5mkp0oi2tnjxaPh7GofHyME5HAswjqDeOu3jdACJukT0f7Ei2woi-j-JwFA7zrhkA_lBLMkIbm6ju6GQcE/s400/jena.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>We have the current American public school system because the Prussians (Germans) were defeated by Napoleon at the battle of Jena in 1806.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong> The King of Prussia decided that the reason why the battle was lost was that the Prussian soldiers were thinking for themselves on the battlefield instead of following orders.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlaEXbygKUI2qppkKHHC1HUanowUNBie-NcCAo-g9CYfBSFchDitM4qlBXmF6QwI0o8FzPR2dlgDlvhk6dZKdZhs5EtucxOLDPzz0cH7aqvUAFqwOY5T6a4moTJEPN3GRy4qWaBZoKh4/s1600/lop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlaEXbygKUI2qppkKHHC1HUanowUNBie-NcCAo-g9CYfBSFchDitM4qlBXmF6QwI0o8FzPR2dlgDlvhk6dZKdZhs5EtucxOLDPzz0cH7aqvUAFqwOY5T6a4moTJEPN3GRy4qWaBZoKh4/s1600/lop.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>At that time the Prussian philosopher, Johann Gottlieb Fichte (1762-1814), was very much in vogue. He promoted the state as a necessary instrument of social and moral progress. He said, "The schools must fashion the person, and fashion him in such a way that he simply cannot will otherwise than what you wish him to will." </strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrCBEZzhMq5a2lnG2b7JK6cKqwXvH_wV8iy3zk6iXQJ696eC5UcJW5bn1a98jS5UABhiMkkUtYPRBwM8cugkFjaOcrutDfa9hWJU00vLHnBRd5j-qKhdfpygq4TdIZNL3LaPJIpVuLzQ/s1600/fitch.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrCBEZzhMq5a2lnG2b7JK6cKqwXvH_wV8iy3zk6iXQJ696eC5UcJW5bn1a98jS5UABhiMkkUtYPRBwM8cugkFjaOcrutDfa9hWJU00vLHnBRd5j-qKhdfpygq4TdIZNL3LaPJIpVuLzQ/s1600/fitch.bmp" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fichte</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong><br />
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<strong>Using this basic philosophy prescribing the “duties of the state”, combined with John Locke’s view (1690) that “children are a blank slate” and lessons from Rousseau on how to “write on the slate”, Prussia established a three-tiered educational system that was considered “scientific” in nature.</strong><br />
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<strong>Work on this system began in 1807 and was in place by 1819. The new Prussian system defined for the child what was to be learned, what was to be thought about, how long to think about it and when a child was to think of something else. </strong><br />
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<strong>This model was eventually responsible for educating 92% of Prussian children. Another 8% were educated privately</strong><br />
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<strong>The national school system was reinforced by King Frederick William III Children aged seven to fourteen had to attend school, and parents who did not comply could have their children taken away. </strong><br />
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<strong>If they met government standards private schools could exist. Teachers had to be certified, and high-school graduation examinations were necessary to enter the learned professions and the civil service.</strong><br />
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<strong>The schools imposed an official language to the prejudice of ethnic groups living in Prussia. The purpose of the system was to instill nationalism in demoralized Prussia and to train young men for the military and the bureaucracy. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvG_25rGa-XoFJ0_7kEsDNOAea4nx1QvWQXvJK-PVNgNQKj__YqQDkq9P-HCa1k5w7kfGKK21_k46woi5A-BObdfGQIBbW8JGoxxQJrYH_83knKl3uedOSGfS0niuBml5N5-8mP469JSs/s1600/imagesCAQT0HZV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvG_25rGa-XoFJ0_7kEsDNOAea4nx1QvWQXvJK-PVNgNQKj__YqQDkq9P-HCa1k5w7kfGKK21_k46woi5A-BObdfGQIBbW8JGoxxQJrYH_83knKl3uedOSGfS0niuBml5N5-8mP469JSs/s1600/imagesCAQT0HZV.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>This model for compulsory education was also a response to the industrial revolution. Nationalism actually became relevant and nations needed their citizens to think alike.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWdf3ie48DdYVI7dBsKncuvCI9bOz7Gus1y6UWHPQWfnAceOA68DnoJCBtWOdLXQrHogGBztXIIFeKreA2Y12_zTf_S3MHYSl4lhLjymg9JBRQGAncSyyNS4YYNy41bL_fdpRvqJPZ38/s1600/bgt.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWdf3ie48DdYVI7dBsKncuvCI9bOz7Gus1y6UWHPQWfnAceOA68DnoJCBtWOdLXQrHogGBztXIIFeKreA2Y12_zTf_S3MHYSl4lhLjymg9JBRQGAncSyyNS4YYNy41bL_fdpRvqJPZ38/s1600/bgt.bmp" /></a></div><strong>Early in American history, education was mainly a private, free-market activity — no compulsory attendance laws, and no school taxes. That system produced, at the time, a very literate, independent-thinking, self-reliant people. </strong><br />
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<strong>In 1814, the first American, Edward Everett, went to Prussia to get a PhD. He eventually becomes governor of Massachusetts.</strong><br />
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<strong>Over the next 30 years or so, numerous American dignitaries came to Germany to earn degrees (a German invention). Horace Mann, instrumental in the development of educational systems in America, was among them.</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss1V9JjD-biw258-WmfiKddpgHaf6X-QzBMSjncHq9WoeXwf3J6SGphog_BTH5fHN8utfPRNDEQXBSeiKude7HEdVJht8JR-Vu0opH9GDvjLBAeYm2q91pNaZAMlmE4TmByD0IiFGfnQ/s1600/mann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss1V9JjD-biw258-WmfiKddpgHaf6X-QzBMSjncHq9WoeXwf3J6SGphog_BTH5fHN8utfPRNDEQXBSeiKude7HEdVJht8JR-Vu0opH9GDvjLBAeYm2q91pNaZAMlmE4TmByD0IiFGfnQ/s1600/mann.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mann</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>Those who earned degrees in Germany came back to the United States and staffed all of the major universities.</strong><br />
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<strong>In 1850, Massachusetts and New York utilize the system, as well as promote the comforting concept that “the state is the father of children.”</strong><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsr8xU3lNfAv7_VkV0DzGREkwZi2nUeVW-Jq08HBvxhJNSzA_2yEZGZYjlF5agElkwW4czRkd5WI3mDHiEBlyOO9jVSazEO0mGTBwPKxZNMgHuZlYW3qhJL4P_tTK4BLmQMJonqfE_hA/s1600/peabody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsr8xU3lNfAv7_VkV0DzGREkwZi2nUeVW-Jq08HBvxhJNSzA_2yEZGZYjlF5agElkwW4czRkd5WI3mDHiEBlyOO9jVSazEO0mGTBwPKxZNMgHuZlYW3qhJL4P_tTK4BLmQMJonqfE_hA/s1600/peabody.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peabody</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong>Horace Mann’s sister, Elizabeth Peabody (Peabody Foundation) saw to it that after the Civil War, the Prussian system (taught in the Northern states) was integrated into the conquered South between 1865 and 1918.</strong><br />
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<strong>Most of the “compulsory schooling” laws designed to implement the system were passed by 1900. By 1900, most PhD’s in the United States were trained in Prussia.</strong><br />
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<strong>In order to make sure that the independence for communities to hire their own teachers would cease, the Carnegie group instituted the concept of “teacher certification” – a process controlled by the teaching colleges under Carnegie and Rockefeller control.</strong><br />
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<strong>One of the reasons that the self-appointed elite brought back the Prussian system to the United States was to ensure a like-thinking work force to staff the growing industrial revolution. </strong><br />
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<strong>One of the prime importers of the German “educational” system into the United States was William T. Harris, from Saint Louis. He brought the German system in and set the purpose of the schools to distance children from parental influence and that of religion. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHicF3pPL5TkZWLokUMbAI2wcI9P2HLK4yLoevFRLknyCPJSJK98qE8Wtvo5K1Lg8cmMoZh7QZ9m0ZPYzqNe4_o4a9mdfVZ2KhwIKjtak9BSAFyHqxsmSJKYu_0B5sQ1dHwsOvYUM0c1w/s1600/stir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHicF3pPL5TkZWLokUMbAI2wcI9P2HLK4yLoevFRLknyCPJSJK98qE8Wtvo5K1Lg8cmMoZh7QZ9m0ZPYzqNe4_o4a9mdfVZ2KhwIKjtak9BSAFyHqxsmSJKYu_0B5sQ1dHwsOvYUM0c1w/s320/stir.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><strong>He preached this openly, and began creating “school staffing” programs that were immediately picked up by the new “teacher colleges”, many of which were underwritten by the Rockefeller family, the Carnegies, the Whitney’s and the Peabody family. The University of Chicago was underwritten by the Rockefellers.</strong><br />
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<strong>Just as the Prussian system was intended to unify Germany, the American educators' goal was to create a national culture out of the disparate subcultures that comprised the country in that period. (Catholic immigrants were a prominent target.) "To do that," children would have to be removed from their parents and from inappropriate cultural influences." </strong><br />
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<strong><br />
</strong><strong>The current modern public school curriculum also comes directly from the Prussian system. American educators imported three major ideas from Prussia.</strong><br />
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<strong>The first was that the purpose of state schooling was not intellectual training but the conditioning of children "to obedience, subordination and collective life." </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cHxE6P18Eds6h4Smmch5tD35jNf-vPVJDEzamZCjchfGEyg8BlBxCuIRcY746l2tqjo3a4WPMjII1uLEKidvigTml6JFaNZdyK7GvRTPIna_jvxacWzdZtJ7Wk-njtzoDghxqOMXqRo/s1600/brt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cHxE6P18Eds6h4Smmch5tD35jNf-vPVJDEzamZCjchfGEyg8BlBxCuIRcY746l2tqjo3a4WPMjII1uLEKidvigTml6JFaNZdyK7GvRTPIna_jvxacWzdZtJ7Wk-njtzoDghxqOMXqRo/s1600/brt.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Second, whole ideas were broken into fragmented "subjects," and school days were divided into fixed periods "so that self-motivation to learn would be muted by ceaseless interruptions." </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYZp4HKPRF_ny7QglUk4ofn7t6Jv8TKrd9WzAhyphenhyphenlbqftZCXBoSKCy-Jh2vNq0ZEvY_iZivodaDluzto5D_tISbGg14GqcNUmgP063nyXRf5I5AMeMvBJNC3H_iSwyjBG-typbogjZfss/s1600/imagesCAW63PHI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYZp4HKPRF_ny7QglUk4ofn7t6Jv8TKrd9WzAhyphenhyphenlbqftZCXBoSKCy-Jh2vNq0ZEvY_iZivodaDluzto5D_tISbGg14GqcNUmgP063nyXRf5I5AMeMvBJNC3H_iSwyjBG-typbogjZfss/s1600/imagesCAW63PHI.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Third, the state was posited as the true parent of the children. </strong><br />
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<strong>The public schools are intended to create complacent "good citizens" — not necessarily independent thinkers. The growth in government power since the advent of public schools is hard to ignore. </strong><br />
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<strong>Earlier in the century there were “school boards” in every town. Between 1932 and 1960, the number of school boards dropped from 140,000 to 30,000. Today there are about 15,000</strong><br />
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<strong>Unlike our ancestors' private schools, the public schools sought to produce citizens who looked to government to make important decisions for them and solve societal problems. </strong><br />
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<strong>America was a literate country before the importation of the German educational system. It was more literate than it is today. The textbooks of the time make so much allusion to history, philosophy, mathematics, science and politics that they are hard to follow now.</strong><br />
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<strong>The bottom line is, according to the model, the public schools are working just as they were designed. </strong><br />
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<strong>If we do not like what they have achieved, then we have to junk the Prussian system and move toward an education based on the American principles of free markets and individual liberty. Mere reform is not enough. We need to re-separate school and state. That's the only sure way to revitalize education, families, and the American spirit. We need to step out of the box and shift the paradigm.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-10198011896796866692011-04-08T21:03:00.002-04:002011-06-01T19:04:41.013-04:00LET THE DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION DEPART!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdkPd8smffcHw0ka4kvY4KS2A4VDzPFZlr2p7m1LONvDx3XSPN8BFQ9d3rSfWulUlVCX09W13ghQa4stLoZAx46OWF7ksQZB_qblHGKiMs_qv248DR9psxp0Z6VubcI1GkQvyEtSGF-M/s1600/classroom_clip_art_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdkPd8smffcHw0ka4kvY4KS2A4VDzPFZlr2p7m1LONvDx3XSPN8BFQ9d3rSfWulUlVCX09W13ghQa4stLoZAx46OWF7ksQZB_qblHGKiMs_qv248DR9psxp0Z6VubcI1GkQvyEtSGF-M/s320/classroom_clip_art_2.jpg" t8="true" width="301" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>Education is critical in a complex modern society. Education is the process by which we impart moral values to our children, make them part of our particular culture, develop their ability to think, and give them specific kinds of information that they will need to be productive adults, good citizens, and civilized human beings. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUygf9LCTm04F0kYQfyEELy5YWfT3cuy9zELxOyA6lbvz_GxymVGs7_CV3miABnqvvELdyiCyz9n_9_K_5CnuKRk4i5LG9h4YIaFT6oUvBWD97p9lSRHRbnHACRA-tova6gfy0wxGGpw/s1600/jkio.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUygf9LCTm04F0kYQfyEELy5YWfT3cuy9zELxOyA6lbvz_GxymVGs7_CV3miABnqvvELdyiCyz9n_9_K_5CnuKRk4i5LG9h4YIaFT6oUvBWD97p9lSRHRbnHACRA-tova6gfy0wxGGpw/s1600/jkio.bmp" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Today there is great concern about the quality of American education. </strong><br />
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<strong>But neither the importance of education nor its poor quality means that education is an important function of the federal government. In fact, education is not mentioned in the Constitution of the United States, and for good reason. </strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJl3jO737Vi3B4z9EitWG5c7cdu_c1xWBFG_Gs6qGVwtAFG5MgEoCE9zpJLkBYJwkcx_udUB_hjTe7HUPZ0yYPCM9vo5-vbcxbH9ITQqW0GA8Wgaom0mnCr4GT4bRmsJZF5HZe1l3JJIs/s1600/imagesCA3V6DPO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJl3jO737Vi3B4z9EitWG5c7cdu_c1xWBFG_Gs6qGVwtAFG5MgEoCE9zpJLkBYJwkcx_udUB_hjTe7HUPZ0yYPCM9vo5-vbcxbH9ITQqW0GA8Wgaom0mnCr4GT4bRmsJZF5HZe1l3JJIs/s1600/imagesCA3V6DPO.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The Founders wanted most aspects of life managed by those who were closest to them, either by state or local government or by families, businesses, and other elements of civil society. Certainly, they saw no role for the federal government in education. </strong><br />
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<strong>Since the early 1900’s there were many varied legislative attempts to establish a Department of Education. However, the movement really took off with the election of Senator Abraham Ribicoff, the former Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare. </strong><br />
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<strong>Ribicoff was assisted in his efforts by the National Education Association (NEA). The NEA began a political action committee that strongly influenced the nomination of Jimmy Carter for President. <span style="color: red;">(Oh just so you know with a current budget of more than $355 million, the National Education Association spends more on campaign contributions than do ExxonMobil, Microsoft, Wal-Mart, and the AFL-CIO combined.)</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSquME9e3c5zyGNmRK9LmU1UiJ3UbvBBuXsnzY21sH46t6Bz2Ej_ce4BJYNa4iiNPQZ6n6kNk8vEKlt8YLBpuF_NwzfXLA0OzFlGazpJYda88E35xkfU5nXgIQiUH4TqcXlphnjNVwMcg/s1600/yui.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSquME9e3c5zyGNmRK9LmU1UiJ3UbvBBuXsnzY21sH46t6Bz2Ej_ce4BJYNa4iiNPQZ6n6kNk8vEKlt8YLBpuF_NwzfXLA0OzFlGazpJYda88E35xkfU5nXgIQiUH4TqcXlphnjNVwMcg/s1600/yui.jpg" /></a></div><strong>Anyway, one of Carter’s top priorities when he took office in 1976 was education. Although he had a vision of a streamlined government Carter decided that education was important enough to merit its own overseeing agency. Ribicoff and several other senators quickly drafted the Department of Education Organization Act. Carter signed the legislation on October 17th, 1979.</strong><br />
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<strong>A Washington Post editorial raised the fear that "by sheer bureaucratic momentum, [a department of education] would inevitably erode local and state control over public schools.'' Another Post editorial reminded us, "Education remains a primary function of the states and localities, which is surely one reason this country has not had a national ministry of education as part of its political tradition. We think it is a tradition worth holding on to.''</strong><br />
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<strong>At the time, however, the new department was criticized by members of the president’s own party. And they were RIGHT!</strong><br />
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<strong>“No matter what anyone says, the Department of Education will not just write checks to local school boards. They will meddle in everything. I do not want that,” argued Representative Pat Schroeder (D-CO). </strong><br />
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<strong>Representative Joseph Early (D-MA) stated that a “national Department may actually impede the innovation of local programs as it attempts to establish uniformity throughout the Nation.”</strong><br />
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<strong>Senator Patrick Moynihan (D-NY) condemned the new law as a straight political payoff by Carter to teacher unions for their endorsement in the 1976 presidential election. “This is a back-room deal, born out of squalid politics. Everything we had thought we would not see happening to education is happening here.”</strong><br />
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<strong>Abolishing the Department has been a staple among Republican politicians. </strong><br />
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<strong>When the Education Department was created in 1979, many critics warned that a secretary of education would turn into a national minister of education. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Rep. John Erlenborn (R-Ill.) wrote, "There would be interference in textbook choices, curricula, staffing, salaries, the make-up of student bodies, building designs, and all other irritants that the government has invented to harass the population. These decisions which are now made in the local school or school district will slowly but surely be transferred to Washington.''</strong><br />
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<strong>Dissenting from the committee report that recommended establishing the department, Erlenborn and seven other Republicans wrote, "The Department of Education will end up being the Nation's super schoolboard. That is something we can all do without.'' </strong><br />
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<strong>Ronald Reagan famously pledged to abolish it in the 1980 presidential election.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>In 1996, the Republican Party platform stated: “The Federal government has no constitutional authority to be involved in school curricula or to control jobs in the market place. This is why we will abolish the Department of Education.” </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApVycpfeSn63A75_P38nalvCUrDDZT8645svoT_KumkOwmMT710EkMySNkqXVvo9VaY1ihqzJW4s_NhNfacb78k82aEgC6GyFEDGVt432L7eWnLIOi53gp5qAO86Esp7WVXhCNBiF4UM/s1600/yukl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApVycpfeSn63A75_P38nalvCUrDDZT8645svoT_KumkOwmMT710EkMySNkqXVvo9VaY1ihqzJW4s_NhNfacb78k82aEgC6GyFEDGVt432L7eWnLIOi53gp5qAO86Esp7WVXhCNBiF4UM/s1600/yukl.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>But then came President George W. Bush and No Child Left Behind, which grew the Department by 69.6 percent in just two years. YEA Dubya!</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Defenders of the federal role in education insist that the department has no power to impose anything on the nation's schools. It can only study, advise, inspire, and offer supplemental funding. Of course, our folk wisdom tells us that he who pays the piper calls the tune--as federal money increases, so does federal control. </strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">After decades of increased funding for the DOE, created just 32 years ago, its budget now ranks as the third largest of all government agencies. </span></strong><br />
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<strong>The Department’s job is basically taking taxpayer money from states, filtering it through the DOE, and then sending it back to states. It does this in an inefficient manner and it has done little to boost academic achievement. It has, however, raised the salaries of its government employees.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEwfvWtYF7tL_2lJ9sGaRqgX2SENv224BIzQ5thCy7xFLvw6nvXlwPZ10sM6ngWuBE5e9A92DTCGk4iA5wF6ASBXcv3t-7yVfCpeIWmhytCf6O67dKGhRLOKPF1XqwgE6Jv-1paizHvc/s1600/jkl%253B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEwfvWtYF7tL_2lJ9sGaRqgX2SENv224BIzQ5thCy7xFLvw6nvXlwPZ10sM6ngWuBE5e9A92DTCGk4iA5wF6ASBXcv3t-7yVfCpeIWmhytCf6O67dKGhRLOKPF1XqwgE6Jv-1paizHvc/s1600/jkl%253B.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Not including executive salaries, the average annual income of a DOE employee in 2010 was $103,000: nearly double the average annual teacher salary ($53,000 in 2009). Adding to this overblown spending, in 2009 the federal government’s Program Assessment Rating Tool—used to identify ineffective and duplicative programs—reported $359 million in earmarks in the DOE’s budget.</strong><br />
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<strong>Furthermore, greater federal funding for education has come with increased federal red tape. This only adds to administrative burden and does nothing to help students learn. <span style="font-size: large;">Data indicates that even though the federal government contributes only around 10 percent of the funding for education, it is responsible for 41 percent of the administrative compliance burden placed on states. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Warning....this part is very boring!</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TuJPUUv1JfnvlCOT4UlL5cxHAmSZ3457_-otpGgiumt4tB0mZApPu8G23ERrvVAFoF2LGeAQUqVAS0fydkgHk15H2fDqSK600dPV54zh0D01ZSr8WtzOVnja9DmZilenow2tCRkjUVI/s1600/imagesCAHJHMQD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TuJPUUv1JfnvlCOT4UlL5cxHAmSZ3457_-otpGgiumt4tB0mZApPu8G23ERrvVAFoF2LGeAQUqVAS0fydkgHk15H2fDqSK600dPV54zh0D01ZSr8WtzOVnja9DmZilenow2tCRkjUVI/s1600/imagesCAHJHMQD.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The Department of Education’s stated mission is to:</strong><br />
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<strong>Strengthen the Federal commitment to assuring access to equal educational opportunity for every individual;</strong><br />
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<strong>Supplement and complement the efforts of states, the local school systems and other instrumentalities of the states, the private sector, public and private nonprofit educational research institutions, community-based organizations, parents, and students to improve the quality of education;</strong><br />
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<strong>Encourage the increased involvement of the public, parents, and students in Federal education programs;</strong><br />
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<strong>Promote improvements in the quality and usefulness of education through Federally supported research, evaluation, and sharing of information;</strong><br />
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<strong>Improve the coordination of Federal education programs;</strong><br />
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<strong>Improve the management of Federal education activities; and</strong><br />
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<strong>Increase the accountability of Federal education programs to the President, the Congress, and the public.</strong><br />
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<strong></strong><strong><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">This part is also tedious but you need to know:</span></strong><br />
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<strong>There are several organizations within the ED. They include the Office of Educational Research and Improvement, the National Center for Education Statistics, the Planning and Evaluation Service, the National Assessment of Educational Progress, the Fund for the Improvement of Postsecondary Education, the National Institute on Disability and Rehabilitation Research, the Office of Special Education Programs, and the National Research and Dissemination Centers for Career and Technical Education.</strong><br />
<strong> </strong><strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>When the department of education was formed it had 450 employees and a budget of $18.1 billion. Today, its budget is $80 billion with about 5000 employees. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Oh.... I am a teacher. Today I asked several of my colleagues what the Department of Education did.....none of us could come up with an answer. Enough said?</strong></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_OT9zElbLilAzjnpF5IIGcv2dPo6-npVTItYiSmGlDEECihwD2XvtOiQ5GgDxFDB3-yrVClfjkE1AoJL9eIcOaNt-wWfdj2SXUhyphenhyphen6SDFoCOzmYQcUPMF4z049X4l6VOuQNxCh1Bx0FM/s1600/nht.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_OT9zElbLilAzjnpF5IIGcv2dPo6-npVTItYiSmGlDEECihwD2XvtOiQ5GgDxFDB3-yrVClfjkE1AoJL9eIcOaNt-wWfdj2SXUhyphenhyphen6SDFoCOzmYQcUPMF4z049X4l6VOuQNxCh1Bx0FM/s1600/nht.jpg" /></a></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-34160264274922573602011-03-09T21:48:00.010-05:002011-11-18T23:01:29.697-05:00THE SUBJECT WAS ROSES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNl1VkrH4xxH_ySpRxQAajk1iaIm_Q-a-HDHM_2Z9kRNK_EGOwucG40L-oRaUv8O0PwIZfASU5Nk7Uc3tr2WxvrOtFibKtYp1fIV6Atyko5vrfNI8QMhl-LZXpaeKruTAB0Z-KEAYUel8/s1600/wty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNl1VkrH4xxH_ySpRxQAajk1iaIm_Q-a-HDHM_2Z9kRNK_EGOwucG40L-oRaUv8O0PwIZfASU5Nk7Uc3tr2WxvrOtFibKtYp1fIV6Atyko5vrfNI8QMhl-LZXpaeKruTAB0Z-KEAYUel8/s1600/wty.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>It was February 22, 1943. Hans Scholl and his sister Sophie, along with their best friend, Christoph Probst, were together. Nazi officials had scheduled the three to be executed by guillotine that afternoon.</strong><br />
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<strong>The young prisoners were calm and courageous as they faced their impending death. This made an impression upon their Nazi prison guards. Regulations were violated to permit them one last meeting before they were beheaded. Hans, a medical student at the University of Munich, was 24. Sophie, a student, was 21. Christoph, a medical student, was 22. </strong><br />
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<strong>The following is a tale of The White Rose. It is a story of dissent, bravery, and honor.</strong><br />
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<strong>Like many German teenagers in the 1930’s, Hans and Sophie Scholl joined the Hitler Youth. Adolf Hitler, they thought, was the man who would restore Germany and the German people to greatness. </strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOvVy7D3Ip10LdfIkwN_Tma-WhX-FdqAjcYZ00tPCkTCgLYSjeeud-Z72Y378jxlVgy284Yvy_X7WTf4OeXtIqYxMuL8S3DmR75YHGbqcsL7NC9QU4xSCsddC1yihee5rCud5aALi54M/s1600/imagesCA69J597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOvVy7D3Ip10LdfIkwN_Tma-WhX-FdqAjcYZ00tPCkTCgLYSjeeud-Z72Y378jxlVgy284Yvy_X7WTf4OeXtIqYxMuL8S3DmR75YHGbqcsL7NC9QU4xSCsddC1yihee5rCud5aALi54M/s1600/imagesCA69J597.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>However, Robert Scholl, their father, said that Hitler and the Nazis were leading Germany to destruction. In 1942, Robert would serve time in a Nazi prison for telling his secretary:</strong><br />
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<strong>“The war! It is already lost. This Hitler is God's scourge on mankind, and if the war doesn't end soon the Russians will be sitting in Berlin.”</strong><br />
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<strong>Over time, Hans and Sophie came to believe the same as their father…that Hitler was enslaving the German people in the name of freedom and the greater good of the German nation. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Once World War II started open dissent was impossible in Nazi Germany, Most Germans believed it was a matter of the duty to support the troops by supporting the government.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ILRZSaaFGIFp1-pqNTjoO6K2sCUmRpMXRmtLcO2jiWiZt5yjTlHrOzwGgAWzUVgWIhMtm4ueq66loQ9w39lSYOApAHVodqdlzuK2VdV6dCKOhwj2Qiq5KBmeVhlabc0l8cuq7tptsZo/s1600/imagesCA703V80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ILRZSaaFGIFp1-pqNTjoO6K2sCUmRpMXRmtLcO2jiWiZt5yjTlHrOzwGgAWzUVgWIhMtm4ueq66loQ9w39lSYOApAHVodqdlzuK2VdV6dCKOhwj2Qiq5KBmeVhlabc0l8cuq7tptsZo/s1600/imagesCA703V80.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>But Hans and Sophie Scholl believed that it was the duty of a citizen, even in times of war, to stand up against an evil regime, especially when it is sending hundreds of thousands of its citizens to their deaths. </strong><br />
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<strong>The Scholl’s began talking about these beliefs with a small number of friends These were Christoph Probst, Alexander Schmorell, Willi Graf, as well as with Kurt Huber, their psychology and philosophy professor. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P-Oy4SKD04Uqzq7P90FJ3__j3I0H3-c2axNqAce5Nj7Xm4H0kPXBbdC5AbkdvgtTSbD-EqxijER4EmyD6OP7FQK431d0G11reA22NUmnWrHTFMjXMhDwusnwj_HMMGxyv6ZYv432glw/s1600/ju.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0P-Oy4SKD04Uqzq7P90FJ3__j3I0H3-c2axNqAce5Nj7Xm4H0kPXBbdC5AbkdvgtTSbD-EqxijER4EmyD6OP7FQK431d0G11reA22NUmnWrHTFMjXMhDwusnwj_HMMGxyv6ZYv432glw/s1600/ju.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>On a day in 1942, a leaflet appeared at the University of Munich. It was called THE WHITE ROSE. In it was an anonymously written essay. It declared that the Nazis had gradually imprisoned the German people. The Nazi regime was evil. It was time, the essay said, for Germans to arise and resist the tyranny of their government. At the bottom of the essay, the following request appeared:</strong><br />
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<strong>“Please make as many copies of this leaflet as you can and distribute them.” </strong><br />
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<strong>The contents of the leaflet blazed through the student body. This was the first time any internal dissent against the Nazi regime had surfaced in Germany. The writers and distributors of THE WHITE ROSE were Hans Scholl and his friends. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCtUO2d6bWcNLcOZOTWM0BzNBF5ZJYBu_ABRn0a3UQ9sGd9iHoWXKI94577X9FCex8JRVG7agKXMeMAsOhKnJR3dxBH4PCK7hEvGCxCpJd39q4PO1bjPCDqG2tfJSlq93fs4Ja8xCN4I/s1600/imagesCASWI6NN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJCtUO2d6bWcNLcOZOTWM0BzNBF5ZJYBu_ABRn0a3UQ9sGd9iHoWXKI94577X9FCex8JRVG7agKXMeMAsOhKnJR3dxBH4PCK7hEvGCxCpJd39q4PO1bjPCDqG2tfJSlq93fs4Ja8xCN4I/s1600/imagesCASWI6NN.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>Soon more leaflets appeared. They totaled six in all…just six. Four were under the title “The White Rose” and two under the title “Leaflets of the Resistance.”</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Their publication took place periodically between 1942 and 1943. Publication was interrupted briefly when Hans and his friends were sent to the Eastern Front to fight against the Russians. </strong><br />
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<strong>The leaflets started coming in the mail. At the University of Hamburg students began copying and distributing them. Before long copies were turning up in many parts of Germany and Austria. The White Rose did not limit themselves to leaflets. </strong><br />
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<strong>Graffiti began appearing in large letters on streets and buildings all over Munich: “Down with Hitler! . . . Hitler the Mass Murderer!” and “Freiheit! . . . Freiheit! . . . Freedom! . . . Freedom!” </strong><br />
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<strong>It becomes quite clear from reading these pamphlets that, although it was forbidden to speak of these things, everybody was aware of the extermination policies regarding Jewish people. In one pamphlet they refer to the deaths of 300,000 Jews since the invasion of Poland. </strong><br />
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<strong>The six members of the group proclaim that if, as a country, they don't want to be remembered as the embodiment of evil, they have to challenge the regime. </strong><br />
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<strong>The Gestapo knew that the authors were having to procure large quantities of paper, envelopes, and postage and that they had access to a duplicating machine. But THE WHITE ROSE managed to avoid them.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatLol8J7Uox8ZULwA1EfMIbdaj_TuNUIcxNreNKYpIvssKfAN-PoJgs6sFIzRHL7yPpRV37BrfGoqhcoVlXi6HNOmAhPwjCOa-_VGGg8DWokJiFMmjLUPlQHxf5REs3Fhi8URoPYsTfM/s1600/3317229494_4567c7fec5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195px" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatLol8J7Uox8ZULwA1EfMIbdaj_TuNUIcxNreNKYpIvssKfAN-PoJgs6sFIzRHL7yPpRV37BrfGoqhcoVlXi6HNOmAhPwjCOa-_VGGg8DWokJiFMmjLUPlQHxf5REs3Fhi8URoPYsTfM/s320/3317229494_4567c7fec5.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>They operated in secret, mailing the pamphlets to other cities for distribution and leaving the leaflets in deserted hallways of the university for students to find during breaks between classes. </strong><br />
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<strong>Then, on February 18, 1943 when they discovered they had some left over in their case, they just dumped them out over an atrium from the top of a staircase. They were spotted and turned in. A search disclosed evidence of Christoph Probst's participation, and he too was soon arrested. The three of them were indicted for treason. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrlwdHDZth3N0qt0Xg2U0kmOMyjt3561J4B_gQPAQ7G0MQb3VrCG1LlTIWmD1dwFR3cQ42_ALIJ8jG_DcpgNWynJkLhdI1PvhHdwT6dVXbXs-q-fiBV-zV_TNpSOu9ohdbSZTTh1YRkY/s1600/njk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrlwdHDZth3N0qt0Xg2U0kmOMyjt3561J4B_gQPAQ7G0MQb3VrCG1LlTIWmD1dwFR3cQ42_ALIJ8jG_DcpgNWynJkLhdI1PvhHdwT6dVXbXs-q-fiBV-zV_TNpSOu9ohdbSZTTh1YRkY/s1600/njk.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Their trial began four days after their arrest. Roland Freisler, chief justice of the People's Court of the Greater German Reich, had been sent from Berlin to be the presiding judge.</strong><br />
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<strong>One author states, “He conducted the trial as if the future of the Reich were indeed at stake. He roared denunciations of the accused as if he were not the judge but the prosecutor. </strong><br />
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<strong>He behaved alternately like an actor ranting through an overwritten role in an implausible melodrama and a Grand Inquisitor calling down eternal damnation on the heads of the three irredeemable heretics before him. . . .</strong><br />
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<strong> No witnesses were called, since the defendants had admitted everything. The proceedings consisted almost entirely of Roland Freisler's denunciation and abuse, punctuated from time to time by half-hearted offerings from the court-appointed defense attorneys, one of whom summed up his case with the observation, “I can only say fiat justitia. Let justice be done.” By which he meant: Let the accused get what they deserve.”</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3jDPvyv6oe-_sdfm5Dfyp4wrZRlY7B9gLHhxgLnPVZc3CkyHHf4iZk3Tof46plbW2m_RRXQeF2cMhIdyidskorKrkAqbDvLnuc9Y3T6IkTZaeaNvm_pwS3AVkq1h4KI8jp_qf-vypxQ/s1600/imagesCAPVB9W2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3jDPvyv6oe-_sdfm5Dfyp4wrZRlY7B9gLHhxgLnPVZc3CkyHHf4iZk3Tof46plbW2m_RRXQeF2cMhIdyidskorKrkAqbDvLnuc9Y3T6IkTZaeaNvm_pwS3AVkq1h4KI8jp_qf-vypxQ/s1600/imagesCAPVB9W2.jpg" /></a></div><strong>When ask why they did this, Sophie Scholl remarked to Freisler: </strong><br />
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<strong>“Somebody, after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many others. They just don't dare to express themselves as we did.” Later in the proceedings, she said to him: “You know the war is lost. Why don't you have the courage to face it?” </strong><br />
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<strong>Parents, Robert and Magdalene Scholl tried to enter the courtroom in the middle of the trial. Magdalene said to the guard: “But I'm the mother of two of the accused.” The guard responded: “You should have brought them up better.”</strong><br />
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<strong>After forcing his way into the courtroom, Robert Scholl told the court that he was there to defend his children. He was forcibly ejected. The entire courtroom heard him shout: “One day there will be another kind of justice! One day they will go down in history!” </strong><br />
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<strong>Roland Freisler pronounced his judgment on the three defendants: Guilty of treason. Their sentence: <span style="font-size: large;">Death by beheading. </span></strong><br />
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<strong>After being returned to Stadelheim prison, Hans and Sophie were permitted one last visit with their parents. Hans met with them first, and then Sophie. An eye witness writes: </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>“His eyes were clear and steady and he showed no sign of dejection or despair. He thanked his parents again for the love and warmth they had given him and he asked them to convey his affection and regard to a number of friends, whom he named. Here, for a moment, tears threatened, and he turned away to spare his parents the pain of seeing them. Facing them again, his shoulders were back and he smiled. . . . </strong><br />
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<strong>Then a woman prison guard brought in Sophie. . . . Her mother tentatively offered her some candy, which Hans had declined. “Gladly,” said Sophie, taking it. “After all, I haven't had any lunch!” She, too, looked somehow smaller, as if drawn together, but her face was clear and her smile was fresh and unforced, with something in it that her parents read as triumph.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>“Sophie, Sophie,” her mother murmured, as if to herself. “To think you'll never be coming through the door again!” Sophie's smile was gentle. “Ah, Mother,” she said. “Those few little years. . . .” Sophie Scholl looked at her parents and was strong in her pride and certainty. “We took everything upon ourselves,” she said. “What we did will cause waves.” Her mother spoke again: “Sophie,” she said softly, “Remember Jesus.” “Yes,” replied Sophie earnestly, almost commandingly, “but you, too.”</strong><br />
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<strong>She left them, her parents, Robert and Magdalene Scholl, with her face still lit by the smile they loved so well and would never see again. She was perfectly composed as she was led away. Robert Mohr [a Gestapo official], who had come out to the prison on business of his own, saw her in her cell immediately afterwards, and she was crying. It was the first time Robert Mohr had seen her in tears, and she apologized. “I have just said good-bye to my parents,” she said. “You understand . . .” She had not cried before her parents. For them she had smiled. “</strong><br />
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<strong>No relatives visited Christoph Probst. His wife, who had just had their third child, was in the hospital. Neither she nor any members of his family even knew that he was on trial or that he had been sentenced to death.</strong><br />
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<strong>While his faith in God had always been deep and unwavering, he had never committed to a certain faith. On the eve of his death, a Catholic priest admitted him into the church in articulo mortis, at the point of death. “Now,” he said, “my death will be easy and joyful.” </strong><br />
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<strong>Hans, Sophie, and Christoph were then allowed a last visit together. </strong><br />
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<strong>Sophie was then led to the guillotine. One observer described her as she walked to her death: “Without turning a hair, without flinching.” </strong><br />
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<strong>Hans Scholl was last; just before he was beheaded, Hans cried out: “Long live freedom!” </strong><br />
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<strong>The three students were brought to trial on February 22, 1943, 9am... The trial lasted until 1 pm and by 5 o’clock all are dead.</strong><br />
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<strong>They were not the last to die. Later tried and executed were Alex Schmorell (age 25), Willi Graf (age 25), and Kurt Huber (age 49). The hundreds of students at the University of Hamburg were either executed or sent to concentration camps. </strong><br />
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<strong>In the Scholls and their friends we see THE OTHER. </strong><br />
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<strong>THE OTHER exists in all societies and in all times. What they were and what they did has been done before and will be done again.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURtmAyl8smlZWwDMp7zSxEuVjIe3bGJ_YwXv7zMYW5rxSWTQvGfmTmzm0-gfrVPBgJ0OfRAWnodHD-frR3MptK8eYZomUg3RK-jOpW5uopZrIuIKrdrZ2uQtsYnp2jRRHHGCD246rBxQ/s1600/jklp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgURtmAyl8smlZWwDMp7zSxEuVjIe3bGJ_YwXv7zMYW5rxSWTQvGfmTmzm0-gfrVPBgJ0OfRAWnodHD-frR3MptK8eYZomUg3RK-jOpW5uopZrIuIKrdrZ2uQtsYnp2jRRHHGCD246rBxQ/s1600/jklp.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>The actions of these young people transcended and lifted them above the nationalism of time-bound events. They have become enduring symbols of the universal and timeless struggle for the freedom of the human spirit wherever and whenever it is threatened….thank God for them and their kind. </strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-3jMUIcrFwx6x2Vsakp2ixfCP6DN2UsdlUIyTWVkO8S-lt_CdbXMjwPgo8FoTDe4PmYPnKALZRXAcKUmR4SeJn3kOvwLu2SZyAOui8BoQNqIRedhEpQ80em_tYPlOjGkRUDLwPaolUc/s1600/wqrt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-3jMUIcrFwx6x2Vsakp2ixfCP6DN2UsdlUIyTWVkO8S-lt_CdbXMjwPgo8FoTDe4PmYPnKALZRXAcKUmR4SeJn3kOvwLu2SZyAOui8BoQNqIRedhEpQ80em_tYPlOjGkRUDLwPaolUc/s1600/wqrt.jpg" /></a><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">They are few, rare, and very much needed to remind humanity of the content of its soul.</span></strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KKpzUe7pGs3BnqaaZlQ_EGjse41RNhfcLWo1Y7yoUlfUoAzeCdaZPAa6QzOH3QUpIN1u9-vRg9crsDdCxk1CxcCiIuvmGn9b3Usrm3MK7hHRu8v9IkyOC_3eTVq6hbO0AEKYLZ1exSI/s1600/4th.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0KKpzUe7pGs3BnqaaZlQ_EGjse41RNhfcLWo1Y7yoUlfUoAzeCdaZPAa6QzOH3QUpIN1u9-vRg9crsDdCxk1CxcCiIuvmGn9b3Usrm3MK7hHRu8v9IkyOC_3eTVq6hbO0AEKYLZ1exSI/s320/4th.bmp" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quote from the 4th Leaflet</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-63787861139502755892011-03-02T21:01:00.001-05:002011-07-04T14:47:38.991-04:00THE ROCK AND THE HARD PLACE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7GHQVEwi3BsB0uS8tjkWRf1IDOwuxltvk-o_NVKQdw8GaJLgbt85BpoAi_VifHA4Im6nLl0CJgAB-e99Rr7vPtLujggGNOImFfnwI-Drb0ca1jaiw0hDqYqFIVbjSiokzofFJd1uh9I/s1600/asd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7GHQVEwi3BsB0uS8tjkWRf1IDOwuxltvk-o_NVKQdw8GaJLgbt85BpoAi_VifHA4Im6nLl0CJgAB-e99Rr7vPtLujggGNOImFfnwI-Drb0ca1jaiw0hDqYqFIVbjSiokzofFJd1uh9I/s1600/asd.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Sisyphus was a mythological Greek king who used trickery and deceit in all his relationships…employing it even to avoid death</strong><br />
<strong>. </strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutQsxqrBit6XwjXFiCYp6KFolRazfON36Wep6nKS5pVlKSNQ7trk4g36bDbqc_4XWpeu0VfuTVxv_f0MB11Wno5aWk7Gni6WWd6-_V9uky7sZ3vQEiMduo2snyUwmWWzi9CWgN6GnxHg/s1600/gth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutQsxqrBit6XwjXFiCYp6KFolRazfON36Wep6nKS5pVlKSNQ7trk4g36bDbqc_4XWpeu0VfuTVxv_f0MB11Wno5aWk7Gni6WWd6-_V9uky7sZ3vQEiMduo2snyUwmWWzi9CWgN6GnxHg/s1600/gth.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The gods could bear him no longer and condemned Sisyphus to eternal hard labor -- his punishment: rolling a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down to the bottom each time he gets it to the top.</strong><br />
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<strong>It was designed to be horribly difficult, frustratingly futile, unrewarding, and repetitive labor. </strong><br />
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<strong>The labor of Sisyphus is now a metaphor for any work that fits this description.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0_gVYWSmwW54s7KaqB35fgT9nGipMRFU0eVWhz03abjbYSxOnrY-OBOMh05pxcmfQMFJsYcyuEbPb6HLSIFF0D0JdArMoW-ChQEoJOTZRRQZoFA3aD4K42xUNb-NM5HVgqWguwzZ9xk/s1600/sisyphus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0_gVYWSmwW54s7KaqB35fgT9nGipMRFU0eVWhz03abjbYSxOnrY-OBOMh05pxcmfQMFJsYcyuEbPb6HLSIFF0D0JdArMoW-ChQEoJOTZRRQZoFA3aD4K42xUNb-NM5HVgqWguwzZ9xk/s200/sisyphus.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><strong>It is a powerful myth.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>In his 1940 essay, "The Myth of Sisyphus", Albert Camu postulated that Sisyphus' fate and his never ending labor was not futile…saying, : "If the descent is sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy." </strong><br />
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<strong>As I readied myself on a Sunday evening for yet another week of teaching reading to my now large classes of resentful, angry middle schoolers, I began considering what Camus said…. is there nobility or redemption, grounds for satisfaction, even joy in futile labor? </strong><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltcKDfC0aMY6MvbC2Y-N28fVPYWhVD9HT3DUyYEe7EJN0AfP-xIbUMHKTLUzFiNwhCYmeo7e2IJH5dPEcC4JjJXFjzGqpEMK7Y3vmIT9K3ZADuzwfV8bnIdS8YDukVdPNepxiaKGN3pk/s1600/imagesCAFBD6MQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltcKDfC0aMY6MvbC2Y-N28fVPYWhVD9HT3DUyYEe7EJN0AfP-xIbUMHKTLUzFiNwhCYmeo7e2IJH5dPEcC4JjJXFjzGqpEMK7Y3vmIT9K3ZADuzwfV8bnIdS8YDukVdPNepxiaKGN3pk/s1600/imagesCAFBD6MQ.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>The boulder of life never stays at the summit…it rolls back down. But, the impermanence of the product does not necessarily erase its value. </strong><br />
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<strong>There are so many things we do repeatedly that give satisfaction, and we do not necessarily cry about having to do so. </strong><br />
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<strong>I liked vacuuming because when I was done I could see those lines in the carpet that indicated it was clean. But the lines never lasted.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>I maintain my yard…I plant and mow and weed. It looks so nice when done..but the grass and weeds grow back only to be dealt with again.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>I do housework…I like the result but eventually the work needs to be repeated.</strong><br />
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<strong>I loved teaching….for years I started each day anew with a class full of boulders I pushed up hill....but I knew at the end of each day that some of the boulders stayed part way up the mountain. </strong><br />
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<strong>The effort of teaching is laborious; the rock is, at times, huge and heavy, and, like Sisyphus, I had to work very hard to achieve the summit. But the work was possible. </strong><br />
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<strong>Much work that is difficult is worthwhile and often success at a difficult task is far sweeter than success at an easy one</strong><br />
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<strong>But futility is different…. futility is the failure to reach a goal….not just the failure but the realization that no matter the effort the goal can never be achieved. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>In Sisyphus is the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it and push it up a slope a hundred times over. And at the very end the boulder is pushed to the summit. Then Sisyphus turns and watches it rush down toward that lower world where he will have to push it up again.</strong><br />
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<strong>He trudges back down. It is during this return that Sisyphus interests me. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pgEeUQxmKM4F4EZvriDnAo6bB-CQLKYJ_SvNibt7zNmR4t_dk4D94r-nWO9r1SCbR1Se17j5t6mFyXVmRqs6cu3ggJdL2NWPSz1nu5cYhCmVbVPrtW9LZyphZ5PZEWAtnVvzMHgyR9g/s1600/imagesCA3XNTCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pgEeUQxmKM4F4EZvriDnAo6bB-CQLKYJ_SvNibt7zNmR4t_dk4D94r-nWO9r1SCbR1Se17j5t6mFyXVmRqs6cu3ggJdL2NWPSz1nu5cYhCmVbVPrtW9LZyphZ5PZEWAtnVvzMHgyR9g/s1600/imagesCA3XNTCD.jpg" /></a></div><strong>A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! And in Sisyphus I see myself..with my face of stone, going back down every day with a heavy yet measured step toward that hour, like a breathing-space, which returns as surely as Sisyphus’s suffering… that is my hour of consciousness.</strong><br />
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<strong>My fate as a teacher belongs to me… and it has become my rock. </strong><br />
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<strong>I know there is no sun without shadow, and that it is essential to know the night.</strong><br />
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<strong>But my relationship to my rock has changed.</strong><br />
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<strong>For Sisyphus I see no way to imagine happiness, nobility, or redemption. It has nothing to do with the repetitiveness of the act, its difficulty, the brevity of its achievement. It is the fact that the act of rolling this boulder up hill serves no purpose.</strong><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWMFjh21SQdr4I3EcjJJJKl70RHikkyAdMWiayvmQmepZ6Dew8z3xnHuyU3fHa8GzQLkCl5lKYegoTCrT2oM47Mv_aBT6Ppom88TWscPzB1xt7wDHAqtJLWj12a0-JxAXSYbmCZPe5YA/s1600/sleeping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWMFjh21SQdr4I3EcjJJJKl70RHikkyAdMWiayvmQmepZ6Dew8z3xnHuyU3fHa8GzQLkCl5lKYegoTCrT2oM47Mv_aBT6Ppom88TWscPzB1xt7wDHAqtJLWj12a0-JxAXSYbmCZPe5YA/s320/sleeping.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>And it is what I have come to feel about teaching.</strong><br />
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<strong>I think I am now simply changing the position of a rock, a piece of furniture in the universe. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaiNHE3RwlFdSRujNXwggxKdDNZ5VRuMGej41xTPCxoDQUlAu-3rwgNK5-a4TCnvWt3UtSYOkS6QbB4yBP-nuFhfT5Y9p_p2TnvmWBOqYowvCf18NdAhP69eqrLKGh-5YEAoyCJqx9fc/s1600/sisyphus2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCaiNHE3RwlFdSRujNXwggxKdDNZ5VRuMGej41xTPCxoDQUlAu-3rwgNK5-a4TCnvWt3UtSYOkS6QbB4yBP-nuFhfT5Y9p_p2TnvmWBOqYowvCf18NdAhP69eqrLKGh-5YEAoyCJqx9fc/s320/sisyphus2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong> Not all work is noble. What makes it noble is to be striving toward the best we can accomplish, not toward just any accomplishment for its own sake. </strong><br />
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<strong>It is the total lack of value of what Sisyphus has to work so hard to achieve that makes his punishment so horrific. It is not because his labor is merely arduous and eternal, it is because it is arduous and eternally pointless.</strong><br />
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<strong>For me, Sisyphus is a metaphor for the current condition of my professional life in the classroom. Change is not necessarily progress and hollow victories do exist. The myth of Sisyphus is a sad commentary. The work of far too many really good teachers has become pushing a rock up a hill merely to change its location.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvmj8Za9sJD479d4q-MyY7DeS3_RcG0b0WT8zBTuVl3zUJWstezx72wXH_Uy3hdLAaGBaVB22n13fD8h3_uEW4bAEXiwwF1rf_M7ZdDwxzufZuT10deRIPYhA9Gnlghfap8pDfjN4_og/s1600/sisyphus_and_rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvmj8Za9sJD479d4q-MyY7DeS3_RcG0b0WT8zBTuVl3zUJWstezx72wXH_Uy3hdLAaGBaVB22n13fD8h3_uEW4bAEXiwwF1rf_M7ZdDwxzufZuT10deRIPYhA9Gnlghfap8pDfjN4_og/s320/sisyphus_and_rock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong> I encourage you to read the comments on this link. It starts with an open announcement by a teacher in 2006….the commentary goes all the way to this year. You will also see the progression of despair and the sense of loss experienced by teachers all across the country. It has little to do with money or benefits or pensions….</strong><br />
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<a href="http://cosmicben.livejournal.com/42527.html?page=1&view=541215#comments"><span style="font-size: large;">http://cosmicben.livejournal.com/42527.html?page=1&view=541215#comments</span></a><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>“Nature's first green is gold</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>Her hardest hue to hold.</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>Her early leaf's a flower;</strong></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx2xD1tyS54yZaeBLZwP3eERXpUycct9eLKA9dRakEoNuQ0FZ0XzTyxQtbiVc8L71Gi-z2_8jWG6nG1c8JArnXdQwKPreZMMGrnX04dWTN9lXWr8RzMVb5krAFP1h0jvRGw2yWwJ2xv8/s1600/SDante.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><strong><img border="0" height="230" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx2xD1tyS54yZaeBLZwP3eERXpUycct9eLKA9dRakEoNuQ0FZ0XzTyxQtbiVc8L71Gi-z2_8jWG6nG1c8JArnXdQwKPreZMMGrnX04dWTN9lXWr8RzMVb5krAFP1h0jvRGw2yWwJ2xv8/s320/SDante.jpg" width="320" /></strong></a></div><span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>But only so an hour.</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>Then leaf subsides to leaf.</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>So Eden sank to grief,</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>So dawn goes down to day.</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>Nothing gold can stay.”</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>...Robert Frost</strong></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-15312651839174219732011-02-10T22:15:00.011-05:002011-11-18T22:55:23.462-05:00The Divine Wipes Of Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcqX1SRqhlmr-ndZc1i2i_RE02c9vje5XHg4JcAbZV8N_sW-C3MRdpjRlbnUpVOggtAkT8o8BaEHKOLFWRnIYOsBv2zybtMImvOHuKYmVAFsnko2cppVQftqWKfA4dzkaF9r4CzvH_u4/s1600/god.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="226px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcqX1SRqhlmr-ndZc1i2i_RE02c9vje5XHg4JcAbZV8N_sW-C3MRdpjRlbnUpVOggtAkT8o8BaEHKOLFWRnIYOsBv2zybtMImvOHuKYmVAFsnko2cppVQftqWKfA4dzkaF9r4CzvH_u4/s400/god.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Since we all became human, people have been trying to find successful ways to WIPE!</strong><br />
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<strong>At first we just picked up what was available. Depending on geography that could be shells (SHELLS?), moss, leaves, grass, CORNCOBS!, sheep’s wool, snow, even parts of COCONUTS!?, </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8g_NZE1dXOm-HUjKxf24xdOprLhA74iPb3618dIntOWnpVCEywzaClVOHSlZn67IERCa1jljaQ1N29pydsAueegzBmNvElscG_I8Q9Rc7OSShUj0HAmVaElZVBRL_eZ0Ipq37I6twCdo/s1600/cou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8g_NZE1dXOm-HUjKxf24xdOprLhA74iPb3618dIntOWnpVCEywzaClVOHSlZn67IERCa1jljaQ1N29pydsAueegzBmNvElscG_I8Q9Rc7OSShUj0HAmVaElZVBRL_eZ0Ipq37I6twCdo/s1600/cou.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>The ancient Greeks used clay and stone (STONE?). The Romans were fond of sponges attached to the end of a stick immersed in salt water. Kind of makes us all reconsider the phrase “wrong end of the stick” …….</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-x2qpx6pnNOGFPmH5vRmyFei2w_KNiCEowtlvvt4rod360DW6iiSFSyi3qPSXtEDwuK1lhCh5vUL97tAOGPiSaj-c_cxVke6OctjsHSjUBhXi8-S27C7hVGttfp84ZxAUC4TZjWK6zm0/s1600/imagesCAZ1MUCZ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="142px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-x2qpx6pnNOGFPmH5vRmyFei2w_KNiCEowtlvvt4rod360DW6iiSFSyi3qPSXtEDwuK1lhCh5vUL97tAOGPiSaj-c_cxVke6OctjsHSjUBhXi8-S27C7hVGttfp84ZxAUC4TZjWK6zm0/s320/imagesCAZ1MUCZ.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Middle Easterners commonly used the left hand, which is supposedly still considered unclean in the Arabian region.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfw3LuzgEeyzGQnGGCplaHEN6vZtVSXvF-WGSNt9_PBc5ve1Tj9MklyHBUKZz3GN7ldqzCohWFtFke3V4sGZ23GpEcatwbPjC7KA4bKl83rwpEhFXc_0EdRJ-kTFYa6J3ddtAgAyD_gk/s1600/imagesCA142L9P.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfw3LuzgEeyzGQnGGCplaHEN6vZtVSXvF-WGSNt9_PBc5ve1Tj9MklyHBUKZz3GN7ldqzCohWFtFke3V4sGZ23GpEcatwbPjC7KA4bKl83rwpEhFXc_0EdRJ-kTFYa6J3ddtAgAyD_gk/s1600/imagesCA142L9P.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>As we advanced and with the invention of paper and the printing press, the preferred items were newspapers, magazines, and pages of books.</strong><br />
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<strong>It eventually dawned on us that we could SELL a product designed to wipe our butts!.</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8LXJWVphdhpbo407C_MZpZeiT0Gxl1ihHRUgMjFwvec_OWJd-b3OFb0gUbjaKUOU6EN9TAv8CvNK18_W6zORoBsGM2BjxmSGDXiwfhsO_fh3BSWveRbFQbSTmFbFsgi9JGspQ18fFRXM/s1600/imagesCA5VULUA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8LXJWVphdhpbo407C_MZpZeiT0Gxl1ihHRUgMjFwvec_OWJd-b3OFb0gUbjaKUOU6EN9TAv8CvNK18_W6zORoBsGM2BjxmSGDXiwfhsO_fh3BSWveRbFQbSTmFbFsgi9JGspQ18fFRXM/s1600/imagesCA5VULUA.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>This happy event began approximately 150 years ago and it happened in AMERICA! </strong><br />
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<strong>And, in no time at all, what was once a <span style="font-size: large;">disposable</span> became an<span style="font-size: large;"> indispensable</span> through the genius of American ingenuity and marketing. </strong><br />
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<strong>The first products were invented in New York by Joseph Gayetty in 1857. They were sheets of manila hemp infused with aloe and dispensed from Kleenex-like boxes.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpVu5LqzWISgIzX1ILh81j2_BxXg56wkwRxW-pQqWQH6tK8RosydTY_TT7JxDkAaO505hfc3I7nlB0c3k4xvZnJZZsxlXg3G5At_PMzXZx_St-reJ6RRB66rmbnszaj-4Gnz6oqVAtBg/s1600/imagesCAPWFX1Y.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpVu5LqzWISgIzX1ILh81j2_BxXg56wkwRxW-pQqWQH6tK8RosydTY_TT7JxDkAaO505hfc3I7nlB0c3k4xvZnJZZsxlXg3G5At_PMzXZx_St-reJ6RRB66rmbnszaj-4Gnz6oqVAtBg/s1600/imagesCAPWFX1Y.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> He advertised his sheets prevented hemorrhoids. He had his name printed on every sheet. GAYETTY’S MEDICATED PAPER…</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib56dA7SViHJ9eVTuKEWSUlJE-7QYCKB3rWBGN8XnI2iXBego96RhqrtdpftOnOQ16TZWYU8jDvQhvJjYTAE18YyyoF5QjHYoB_oaeJFYlT8jATeDGF-Tl7fN_y157qPWFDWEm4pSbuRc/s1600/imagesCAJA0FS2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib56dA7SViHJ9eVTuKEWSUlJE-7QYCKB3rWBGN8XnI2iXBego96RhqrtdpftOnOQ16TZWYU8jDvQhvJjYTAE18YyyoF5QjHYoB_oaeJFYlT8jATeDGF-Tl7fN_y157qPWFDWEm4pSbuRc/s320/imagesCAJA0FS2.jpg" width="209px" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>But Gayetty had limited success. Americans had the Sears Roebuck catalog, It came in the mail for free.</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYO8gKIW5QJ7F7oSCmQNMhlenXkiJDnzf5CW9WzpR80Audq-6xtKDfnlZ0cRAvqo6ydTJK9AcCN4IjW8-T7Mhsq02CGEMfTycpLkjonNjT3jgFaOc2uwmPlO6v-DLyQuGcnwjdULWx74g/s1600/imagesCAMHI5L1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYO8gKIW5QJ7F7oSCmQNMhlenXkiJDnzf5CW9WzpR80Audq-6xtKDfnlZ0cRAvqo6ydTJK9AcCN4IjW8-T7Mhsq02CGEMfTycpLkjonNjT3jgFaOc2uwmPlO6v-DLyQuGcnwjdULWx74g/s1600/imagesCAMHI5L1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Then, in 1890, two brothers, named Clarence and E. Irvin Scott, put toilet paper on a ROLL! The Scotts' were more successful because they sold toilet paper to hotels and drugstores.</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_77EP87hjka69ghhEWzwFgrK_H54C2FVm68mfFt6HDWpIRIF9gLDESJT3vIAp2QcFndShSvUoQqKusSSttglpJPBe7eL2n5ZWpkE21pjCl1UjSyfGoGI1jNBu0UAnwFsCVgoaUy9nq3c/s1600/imagesCA34O96M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_77EP87hjka69ghhEWzwFgrK_H54C2FVm68mfFt6HDWpIRIF9gLDESJT3vIAp2QcFndShSvUoQqKusSSttglpJPBe7eL2n5ZWpkE21pjCl1UjSyfGoGI1jNBu0UAnwFsCVgoaUy9nq3c/s1600/imagesCA34O96M.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>But it was very difficult to get the American public to openly buy the product. Bodily functions were embarrassing. </strong><br />
<strong>The Scott’s didn't even take credit for their product until 1902 because they were also embarrassed. Nobody wanted to ask for it by name….toilet paper.</strong><br />
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<strong> Then a new technology spurred more widespread acceptance.</strong><br />
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<strong>At the end of the 19th century, more and more homes were being built with sit-down flush toilets tied to indoor plumbing systems.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qmkw_kYsocwbPeHiq0y0LdHHDcqrVYIuheHXSKRWibQHbaqoVTj6yvpJnaduaVMVibrx6tSfT_IjoxSarj6GLO8eTP0XYresT2FVi9zI-9JGb2WZub3rDX3R5apioj7Q78WbFtt3ddE/s1600/imagesCAEU8CUT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qmkw_kYsocwbPeHiq0y0LdHHDcqrVYIuheHXSKRWibQHbaqoVTj6yvpJnaduaVMVibrx6tSfT_IjoxSarj6GLO8eTP0XYresT2FVi9zI-9JGb2WZub3rDX3R5apioj7Q78WbFtt3ddE/s1600/imagesCAEU8CUT.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>People now required a product that could be flushed away with minimal damage to the pipes…..out with moss, corncobs, and Sears Catalog pages.</strong><br />
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<strong>Soon toilet paper ads were stating that the product was recommended by not only doctors, but plumbers. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9tc_PBTRY7SB7IaKs-hCc990V8oEQTp_deJ4GnfFlTlC9vfQ_KPoR1twrqBlT54T5SxDKXPMXT6Tg3Mxb4-m6NUY4fg8vyldP66xB2I1tmik31YAZTyVLEotEMu1MbdzTOO6C-o9Vvs/s1600/imagesCA543TUX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9tc_PBTRY7SB7IaKs-hCc990V8oEQTp_deJ4GnfFlTlC9vfQ_KPoR1twrqBlT54T5SxDKXPMXT6Tg3Mxb4-m6NUY4fg8vyldP66xB2I1tmik31YAZTyVLEotEMu1MbdzTOO6C-o9Vvs/s1600/imagesCA543TUX.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>In the early 1900s, toilet paper was still being marketed as an item for medicinal purposes. </strong><br />
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<strong>But in 1928, the Hoberg Paper Company tried something different. </strong><br />
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<strong>The company introduced a brand called CHARMIN and fitted the product with a feminine logo that depicted a beautiful woman.</strong><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Vkcf66EgRRpTrWO_AIlRzIqabI-E1T1PMHAqvTX5SsCAggXyr1fMdz9WUR29eLW4X6CotI9vI_VSbnolPNY7YVuzc4iyV_9MMT7qG7Ndf45HgqfaLuzqfOZ-JAGNg96w2clVMtsKLFA/s1600/imagesCA7SYIYY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Vkcf66EgRRpTrWO_AIlRzIqabI-E1T1PMHAqvTX5SsCAggXyr1fMdz9WUR29eLW4X6CotI9vI_VSbnolPNY7YVuzc4iyV_9MMT7qG7Ndf45HgqfaLuzqfOZ-JAGNg96w2clVMtsKLFA/s1600/imagesCA7SYIYY.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>This ad campaign was brilliant! By focusing on softness and femininity, the company could avoid talking about the actual purpose of toilet paper.</strong><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5921Qq-pOxr9DBxCVtOLQ5Zg6ySpxr__zXrYfchm7Y_yY7qvyqd2jjhLuZKE6vkF8GxZOzikBWq3qZaxSbR7_MvWgpbnc1us_Of58W8e_h928TpNe6p4RJnvrRzQqVDXFQy-i1bLcOY/s1600/imagesCAG9N7F1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5921Qq-pOxr9DBxCVtOLQ5Zg6ySpxr__zXrYfchm7Y_yY7qvyqd2jjhLuZKE6vkF8GxZOzikBWq3qZaxSbR7_MvWgpbnc1us_Of58W8e_h928TpNe6p4RJnvrRzQqVDXFQy-i1bLcOY/s1600/imagesCAG9N7F1.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>Charmin was so successful that the strategy helped the brand survive the Great Depression. They also started, in 1932, to package Charmin in economy-size packs of four rolls. </strong><br />
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<strong>In decades to follow, the delicate ladies were replaced with babies and bear cubs.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHS06R2l-7rTyg56CTCgTa-I7SDoqOuW4yfMac8xDiEZDpZdgPwhXy8DauvjS3jVre47fS7izSdvMmvgoNhuIxm3pVl_WmREHWp4-cf08AGGD3ibhvBsOGSm5ohuD92AVicBcedXhxQX0/s1600/imagesCA2V643I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHS06R2l-7rTyg56CTCgTa-I7SDoqOuW4yfMac8xDiEZDpZdgPwhXy8DauvjS3jVre47fS7izSdvMmvgoNhuIxm3pVl_WmREHWp4-cf08AGGD3ibhvBsOGSm5ohuD92AVicBcedXhxQX0/s1600/imagesCA2V643I.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>In 1935, Northern Tissue advertised "splinter-free" toilet paper. Yep, you read that right; early paper production techniques sometimes left splinters embedded in the paper. Let us pause and contemplate that for a moment….</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KFPKCn0pWMiJt5IpTXnB_2dkAJbiaT1hyphenhypheneNS5cAYAgExYKVO2g8JPigvZxtjb5kV6GMTjkHdQmOF9Ez66cJ0Kkr4wMKYvM6l56T373V239tS86HvSV4v1sGXbix-sa1AmyImmNOMS3w/s1600/imagesCAZB7WNG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KFPKCn0pWMiJt5IpTXnB_2dkAJbiaT1hyphenhypheneNS5cAYAgExYKVO2g8JPigvZxtjb5kV6GMTjkHdQmOF9Ez66cJ0Kkr4wMKYvM6l56T373V239tS86HvSV4v1sGXbix-sa1AmyImmNOMS3w/s1600/imagesCAZB7WNG.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>By the 1970s, American life without toilet paper was…un-American. </strong><br />
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<strong>So important is toilet paper that in December 1973, when Tonight Show host Johnny Carson joked about a toilet paper shortage during his opening monologue there was a run on the product across the country.</strong><br />
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</strong><br />
<strong>In 1978, a TV Guide poll named Mr. Whipple --the nice grocer who implored customers, "Please don't squeeze the Charmin" -- the third best-known man in America, behind President Richard Nixon and the Rev. Billy Graham. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvWvozFYV9ya2h_u7VZ_zXckSbiBa68iGsv7i8p9ZC4FUO0KZht2_OoVrDxjhyphenhyphen9hdK1lI7yrahRxrivAMKyBFcFrH-pw-R0IG7f8Ryhp9E8up7d1aDnQ0p4u_kD7YdIskBa7WfJESkEM/s1600/imagesCA6RFIAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvWvozFYV9ya2h_u7VZ_zXckSbiBa68iGsv7i8p9ZC4FUO0KZht2_OoVrDxjhyphenhyphen9hdK1lI7yrahRxrivAMKyBFcFrH-pw-R0IG7f8Ryhp9E8up7d1aDnQ0p4u_kD7YdIskBa7WfJESkEM/s1600/imagesCA6RFIAM.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Americans spend more than $6 billion a year on toilet tissue -- more than any other nation in the world. </strong><br />
<strong>Americans, on average, use 57 squares a day and 50 pounds a year. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2_K0YpnNg2BcuohlxVA9J1eh1O0ccflWXmPtgTdSsOCFb2Lh7LZ8baVpXvtcczhJvBoO8ZmpXXjc1doCNGxD_oGOkqlrvT1Xq09EC1oR_wMWb_p8rug8lbxU34r1PilgKWYkmGgKlUY/s1600/imagesCANJMXE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2_K0YpnNg2BcuohlxVA9J1eh1O0ccflWXmPtgTdSsOCFb2Lh7LZ8baVpXvtcczhJvBoO8ZmpXXjc1doCNGxD_oGOkqlrvT1Xq09EC1oR_wMWb_p8rug8lbxU34r1PilgKWYkmGgKlUY/s1600/imagesCANJMXE2.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Today there are over 5,000 different companies producing bathroom tissue around the world trying to make our lives more convenient, clean and efficient. In a study done back in 1997, it was estimated that 71.48 frugal people contribute to the waste of one roll of 1,000 sheet single ply toilet paper everyday.</strong><br />
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<strong>With a little over 6 billion humans living on earth, that calls for the daily production of 83,048,116 rolls per day, </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEWhf31YtVgW2phnzs20cgUn3aSWPyYfOeF1SXughkO9CbQx2FaGxIXcy7vdFdd-Tbwh9WS8iX_sa83DNjgE04qo8wqIx5gAIu8tAORiwxewazb4BqZ-9IUL1VJCoTULlNPT9b3_hWig/s1600/uio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEWhf31YtVgW2phnzs20cgUn3aSWPyYfOeF1SXughkO9CbQx2FaGxIXcy7vdFdd-Tbwh9WS8iX_sa83DNjgE04qo8wqIx5gAIu8tAORiwxewazb4BqZ-9IUL1VJCoTULlNPT9b3_hWig/s1600/uio.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
</strong><br />
<strong>30.6 billion rolls per year and 2.7 rolls per second. </strong><br />
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<strong>That is 80% greater than our daily consumption or use of salt, 63% greater than our average use of milk, and 84 billion more people served annually than McDonald’s fast food restaurants. Don’t tell the current administration….</strong><br />
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<strong>The average sheet of toilet paper weighs in at a little over .22 grams and 4.0625 inches per square reaching approximately338.5 feet per roll and 5.3 million miles of toilet paper per day. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtFBnkYO-382zZIJsiD1UTQP7IvBA_s4mWeyZb8FF5c9_y7c5A6lPe5msDHhYZn5fmZvrtda0MuPzAwg5yUINYJzUEDW-s4z8MElo6AiZSflM3sx40cPu_iBlBQwSmYfHzjpwUFYdJSM/s1600/imagesCARKDGBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtFBnkYO-382zZIJsiD1UTQP7IvBA_s4mWeyZb8FF5c9_y7c5A6lPe5msDHhYZn5fmZvrtda0MuPzAwg5yUINYJzUEDW-s4z8MElo6AiZSflM3sx40cPu_iBlBQwSmYfHzjpwUFYdJSM/s1600/imagesCARKDGBS.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Furthermore, Americans GO an average of 6 times per day, adding up to as much as 47 minutes in a single 24 hour time period.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi76Lr28bDA6u7hDWF9elFCKGzki9N3hFKncD8rLqIwrCbcQ82Zz8uGQM8BizC5v-0_C9UHTlRuwDHWFVo9EMG12X98B4X8FzQayqJcOLT_Atl49XxYmDlMljREsPM4_cWpFt9WRRLPiLs/s1600/fgh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi76Lr28bDA6u7hDWF9elFCKGzki9N3hFKncD8rLqIwrCbcQ82Zz8uGQM8BizC5v-0_C9UHTlRuwDHWFVo9EMG12X98B4X8FzQayqJcOLT_Atl49XxYmDlMljREsPM4_cWpFt9WRRLPiLs/s1600/fgh.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Women spend more time with toilet paper than men. Approximately 32 months in a lifetime versus 25 months for men </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXROKJKlvHsbzafNEcpeKi7rVJqIALBnEkCj-gHizetXddRPyM5ZcRhNSQxf3uiTX7pPwP_FGrCbeQFfUSXFU5EdAUxy1rS7Xy99umBjqLV9dPx_qzktnQL4SsKZfp2oglU6Lh9W1-u4/s1600/imagesCAO0GTTI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXROKJKlvHsbzafNEcpeKi7rVJqIALBnEkCj-gHizetXddRPyM5ZcRhNSQxf3uiTX7pPwP_FGrCbeQFfUSXFU5EdAUxy1rS7Xy99umBjqLV9dPx_qzktnQL4SsKZfp2oglU6Lh9W1-u4/s1600/imagesCAO0GTTI.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>An average tear of 5.9 sheets is ripped from the roll with each reach. </strong><br />
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<strong>44% of people wipe from front to back, and 60% look at the paper having just wiped. </strong><br />
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<strong>42% fold, 33% crumple, 8% do both fold and crumple, 6% wrap it around their hands and at least 50% of people have at one time or another wiped with leaves, or something foreign to toilet paper (8% hands, 1% money).</strong><br />
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<strong>The next time you visit the grocery store, take some time to wander the toilet paper isle. </strong><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJHUA-iY4HUh567yqhsYHI2f2EysABxGaBOTnlv06UvadYP__9wErelSjVBg_0OV7FeR1yo3sDSArLLZ3mzTyRn9JrhMlZFd-Dv5kuRAKYA9FxsIOBvaAygAv2OdN4rJwnk-J8-jiFOE/s1600/imagesCA5LF0Q9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJHUA-iY4HUh567yqhsYHI2f2EysABxGaBOTnlv06UvadYP__9wErelSjVBg_0OV7FeR1yo3sDSArLLZ3mzTyRn9JrhMlZFd-Dv5kuRAKYA9FxsIOBvaAygAv2OdN4rJwnk-J8-jiFOE/s1600/imagesCA5LF0Q9.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>What a wonderful world of hygiene and convenience we have wrought over the last 100 years. </strong><br />
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<strong>Charmin, Charmin Ultra, Charmin double, Charmin Triple, Charmin unscented/scented, Best Yet, Quilted Northern, Cottonelle, Angel Soft, Soft’n Gentle, Green Forest, Scott, or even Brawny and all of their own double, triple, pillow soft, and perfumed or unscented choices….AWESOME! </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi438D_WyE66YGT2AAbEpNLKnRQhUhhIdf7ZOgAfMjbFvUei_iuE6zd1vIPO8JAY_8Pf06kFHcrGse2P5GNZ7yjZp4sWPkR-yb_El3n79tbAU6IGEQQbtPfaM3SW_g0P5dFif06aUwAuB4/s1600/imagesCAOYCSTC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi438D_WyE66YGT2AAbEpNLKnRQhUhhIdf7ZOgAfMjbFvUei_iuE6zd1vIPO8JAY_8Pf06kFHcrGse2P5GNZ7yjZp4sWPkR-yb_El3n79tbAU6IGEQQbtPfaM3SW_g0P5dFif06aUwAuB4/s1600/imagesCAOYCSTC.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>T.P. is our friend and it’s okay to talk about it…even if it has become somewhat of a metaphor for the economy.</strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSw6OalXZwZWWixdrn-wHvRwMzWlvQ_7nSoOQSxtFSjDZeJMnSSJYGlg48_wAAr3RToOyDva7nMpQeJcnl8iLV6442c9905o55DM4zNo2MOIpZjbqKlcpF5Me2haH9vA5MTSxwI1GScM/s1600/imagesCAIFW660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSw6OalXZwZWWixdrn-wHvRwMzWlvQ_7nSoOQSxtFSjDZeJMnSSJYGlg48_wAAr3RToOyDva7nMpQeJcnl8iLV6442c9905o55DM4zNo2MOIpZjbqKlcpF5Me2haH9vA5MTSxwI1GScM/s1600/imagesCAIFW660.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-17712472928119369142011-01-23T20:27:00.004-05:002011-09-03T21:36:55.437-04:00THE BUCKET LIST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-qSQoQFUhD82z5VRGCnSRcK5JdDnvVLMO3XcEJ72-IVNGj8wsuUW995M1Bh5LO-BL_ReDO1UJsWaRXxh13U4F9eK7WIqCDaMOY-NmHYFDY9tCOs6TlvnubyJskz05Pj3RICUpJjR_ts/s1600/imagesCARMA6OO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-qSQoQFUhD82z5VRGCnSRcK5JdDnvVLMO3XcEJ72-IVNGj8wsuUW995M1Bh5LO-BL_ReDO1UJsWaRXxh13U4F9eK7WIqCDaMOY-NmHYFDY9tCOs6TlvnubyJskz05Pj3RICUpJjR_ts/s1600/imagesCARMA6OO.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>It was December, 1989…. just a normal Friday evening at a home in Houston, Texas. Chad Traywick and his wife, Darda, had just driven up in their truck …and found themselves immediately surrounded by police, the SWAT team and a van from the coroner's office. </strong><br />
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<strong>Chad and Darda were pulled from their vehicle and patted down. They were then informed by Det. John Hill that the police wanted to search the house. </strong><br />
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<strong>A local photo-finishing store had called police to report they had developed photos from film that Chad had dropped off of a beheaded and mutilated newborn baby.</strong><br />
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<strong>The police and the SWAT team were prepared to arrest suspected satanic cult members – </strong><br />
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<strong>Except, upon entering the house, instead evidence of child sacrifice, they found pro-life religious posters and books. </strong><br />
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<strong>They confronted Chad….his story unfolded.</strong><br />
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<strong>Chad Traywick had recently become active in the pro-life movement. At 3 o'clock Saturday afternoon he went to the WOMEN’S PAVILION, a local abortion clinic, to determine a location for conducting a picket at the facility.</strong><br />
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<strong>Chad found that no one was in the building and that the door was open. He went in. The waiting areas were attractive and the operating rooms were quite clean. </strong><br />
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<strong>But as he continued to explore he came upon a small back room filled with 15 plastic buckets with lids on. He realized what the contents might be and, taking one of the larger buckets, he quickly left. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwpS7T7AXbuPWSaj5rNe8cgdR9OQ8WsgtFX4JerukCDammVB9buSsDk1Brunr8f5DmKTcfImJnPmsE0pXeaIpSGHRUPfHUcBuZ4MB9t06xng1g6kz14fkVnx4rZhCUooAQHv5WbpdVhI/s1600/imagesCAWUKJAS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwpS7T7AXbuPWSaj5rNe8cgdR9OQ8WsgtFX4JerukCDammVB9buSsDk1Brunr8f5DmKTcfImJnPmsE0pXeaIpSGHRUPfHUcBuZ4MB9t06xng1g6kz14fkVnx4rZhCUooAQHv5WbpdVhI/s1600/imagesCAWUKJAS.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> </strong><strong>Darda and a friend videotaped and photographed his opening of the container. </strong><br />
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<strong>What was inside the bucket was horrifying. The contents appeared to be a full-grown baby boy. His head and right arm had been ripped from his body and his brain removed. The baby had bitten through his own tongue, no doubt while his head, grasped by forceps, was being literally ripped off his body. The baby’s body had an incision where other organs had apparently been removed .</strong><br />
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<strong>Chad Traywick took the film to a one-hour photo developer. He said, "I explained to them that the pictures were of an aborted baby and asked if they would have any problem or felt uncomfortable developing them." </strong><br />
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<strong>The clerk said there would be no problem. But when he returned for the developed pictures the clerk was quite nervous. The photographs were so terrible that the clerk had called the police to investigate what appeared to be an appalling crime. The police had only to look at the photos… for them, that was enough.</strong><br />
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<strong>Once the police had been given his explanation Chad, on December 15th,1989, agreed to make a statement at police headquarters about what had occurred.. He was not the baby’s killer.</strong><br />
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<strong>A neighbor shared more information. After describing the events surrounding Chad’s arrest, he commented, as he looked at the pictures of Baby David, that this wasn’t the only time he had seen a mutilated baby like this.</strong><br />
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<strong>He went on to declare that he had once worked for the City of Houston’s water treatment plant. One of his jobs was to clean the screen that filtered the effluent as it came into the facility. Quite often he would remove babies from the screen, particularly on Saturdays (when most abortions are performed). Their ultimate lot, he testified, were to be thrown into a large grinder.</strong><br />
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<strong>Chad named the baby boy David and on Jan. 20, 1990, he buried him after a memorial service attended by over 100 people. That was 21 years ago.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlVZG7cMxQeMAFB1an9KRYw2ft0QVvB9wA2cBz7NFsV07NQkkz9pWkvHuUAZ_2Pj1PshDQBRnT69y_dhn18TiDH9ahZ0eo3Y89YIwIludqmx5GuuGMQMWicOYKSPQT-NbfGyCEin7fHk/s1600/15+weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlVZG7cMxQeMAFB1an9KRYw2ft0QVvB9wA2cBz7NFsV07NQkkz9pWkvHuUAZ_2Pj1PshDQBRnT69y_dhn18TiDH9ahZ0eo3Y89YIwIludqmx5GuuGMQMWicOYKSPQT-NbfGyCEin7fHk/s1600/15+weeks.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>We are now at the 38th anniversary of the Supreme Court's Roe v. Wade abortion decision and not much has changed. There continue to be babies in buckets… the horror that was revealed this week in Philadelphia gives proof to that.</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLt-vsgN5JkkdH0w_3xrXTlp6eQLccvEiFrmEXRaRIOyuKEslhPe29DRGVaDYLGS4nHTM8L_jiUfrtisy-6nZAOt0LPX1mMTT-ocEw_aYUOcAFPJ7sy7qmsu8I0BxlHgOA94bGZpB_4o/s1600/Kernit+Gosnell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLt-vsgN5JkkdH0w_3xrXTlp6eQLccvEiFrmEXRaRIOyuKEslhPe29DRGVaDYLGS4nHTM8L_jiUfrtisy-6nZAOt0LPX1mMTT-ocEw_aYUOcAFPJ7sy7qmsu8I0BxlHgOA94bGZpB_4o/s320/Kernit+Gosnell.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Kermit Gosnell</td></tr>
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<strong>I used to believe in a "fundamental constitutional right," "a private decision between a woman and her doctor," "a woman's right to choose" and other noble sounding euphemisms. But then I was confronted with what that "choice" really meant.... Baby David and millions like him….are the result of "choice." ………</strong><br />
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<strong> Baby David, a 28-week-old ( 7 months) "fetus" aborted at the Women's Pavilion, a Houston, Texas, abortion clinic. He was 16-inches long and underwent a D&E abortion, where limbs are ripped off one by one. </strong><br />
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<strong>Other babies are scraped, cut up, , vacuumed, ripped apart, and chemically burned (Google the term “candy apple baby”). Some have their skulls crushed and their brains sucked out. One can summon these images on the Internet within seconds. Pieces of baby. I recommend caution…they are not for the faint of heart….and they might …if nothing else…give one a great deal to think about. They just might even make one shift a paradigm. </strong><br />
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<strong>Consider the many millions of American children of all races and ethnicities… gone… out of our lives in the name of the Constitution, choice and freedom. </strong><br />
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<strong>This is now a 38 year long struggle. The debate over abortion continues because so many know, in their heart of hearts, that it is not right. And I am convinced that many who continue to support its Constitutionality have never seen the Baby Davids. They have never looked at the contents of the buckets. I know I had not.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>I now look forward to the day when we, as a society, declare that these small lives are valuable and that we do not, when our daughters “make a mistake”, consider them, in the words of President Obama, “punished with a baby. " </strong><br />
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<strong>I am reminded of the gypsy in Verdi's opera Il Trovatore. Outraged by the count's cruel injustice, she stole his infant son and, in a crazed act of vengeance, flung him into the fire.... Or so she thought. For, in turning around, she discovered the count's son lay safe on the ground behind her; it was her own son she had thrown into the flames. </strong><br />
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<strong>Abortion can present itself as sparkling liberty, a way to cast off the shackles of being female. That illusion lasts only until you realize who it was you threw into the inferno. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-48278076403681941722011-01-09T22:28:00.003-05:002011-01-11T01:15:58.129-05:00The Man In The Crowd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQYM-WnS-wOrfwH86k-TVDrThwPPF1AfjCJI1dOxpUEByzE05IDZYD6wE8SYTr9OITmLkOg3GaDluxN5EGKfn60eSRaki52gTLbhAmb8sDo0WO8H_mBswO8jDETXvezpTkEvWLGhd9vY/s1600/imagesCAZ39FC3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQYM-WnS-wOrfwH86k-TVDrThwPPF1AfjCJI1dOxpUEByzE05IDZYD6wE8SYTr9OITmLkOg3GaDluxN5EGKfn60eSRaki52gTLbhAmb8sDo0WO8H_mBswO8jDETXvezpTkEvWLGhd9vY/s1600/imagesCAZ39FC3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>It was morning, September 5, 1901. At the gates of the Pan-American exposition in Buffalo, New York stood a slight young man.</strong><br />
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<strong>He was nondescript…just part of the crowd. He bought his ticket to the Grandest Of All World's Fairs. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>He passed through the gates, and began a slow assessment of the Exposition grounds. He attended particularly to the layout of the walkways, the throngs of people, and the security guards.</strong><br />
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<strong>Then this man found what he sought. A huge crowd had gathered to hear a speech delivered by then President William McKinley – maybe a fortunate few would be granted the opportunity to greet the President personally and shake his hand. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>The man approached the throng of people waiting to glimpse the President. This man found himself, after a long wait, close enough to hear McKinley's speech.</strong><br />
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<strong>The President rose and mounted the stand. The man pushed his way down to the front row and stood with the cheering people….. but he said nothing. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>McKinley’s speech was of no importance. His goal was to get closer to the President but a guard appeared in front of him and blocked his chance. </strong><br />
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<strong>Hundreds of people attempted to crowd up to the President's carriage after his address. The man was among them but he was forced back. The President drove away unaware of the man in the crowd left to cursed his bad luck. </strong><br />
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<strong>The slight man returned to the Pan-American Exposition the next day. He awaited President McKinley’s return. The President was scheduled to greet people in the Temple of Music and the man was one of the first to enter. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>When the President entered the Temple through a side door the man had positioned himself as close to the stage as possible.. The man hurried forward when the President prepared to shake hands with the people. </strong><br />
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<strong>Warmly, with a smile on his face, the President took their hands. He gave a sharp downward jerk to each person's hand as he greeted them. Patiently, the man waited his turn to approach the President.</strong><br />
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<strong>None noticed or remarked upon the fact that his hand was wrapped in a handkerchief and held close to his chest. It might have been an injury he was protecting.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>The man reached the President. Without looking at McKinley’s face he extended his left hand as the smiling President reached out to take the man's right hand. The man pressed his hand against the President's chest and fired the gun he was concealing under the handkerchief. He fired twice, and would have fired again if not for the fact that he was tackled and driven to the ground. </strong><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>The crowd exploded in the Temple of Music. President McKinley fell back into the arms of one of the security guards. He was gripping his chest. Blood was rapidly pooling on his white shirt. </strong></div><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>"Am I shot?" he asked. And the guard replied, "I'm afraid that you are, Mr. President." </strong><br />
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<strong>Immediately the assassin was tackled by secret service men and his weapon was torn from his hand by a squad of Exposition police.</strong><br />
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<strong>He was beaten severely by Soldiers of the U.S. artillery who were present at the reception. </strong><br />
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<strong>"Go easy on him boys." McKinley, slumped on the floor in terrible pain, whispered. </strong><br />
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<strong>"My wife, be careful about her. Don't let her know." </strong><br />
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<strong>As word of the assassination attempt spread out of the Temple of Music, a riot ensued from the thousands in attendance.</strong><br />
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<strong>There was an immediate cry for the death of the assassin at their hands as people shoved their way into the Temple..</strong><br />
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<strong>The scene got more and more out of control and the military was called upon to try and restore some order. The Pan-American Exposition police attempted to get the assassin off the grounds. </strong><br />
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<strong>The assassin lay on the floor near where McKinley was dying</strong><br />
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<strong>The President raised he right hand, red with his own blood, and placed it on the hand of his secretary. "Let no one hurt him," he gasped, and sank back into a chair. The man was carried away by the guards.</strong><br />
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<strong>"What is your name?" asked the District Attorney. </strong><br />
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<strong>"Leon Czolgosz." was the weak reply. ( pronounced choll-gosh)</strong><br />
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<strong>"Did you mean to kill the President?" asked the D.A. </strong><br />
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<strong>"I did." </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><strong>"What was the motive that induced you to commit this crime?" </strong><br />
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<strong>"I am a disciple of Emma Goldman ( a leading Anarchist). </strong><br />
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<strong>I killed the President because I done my duty. I did not feel that one man should have all this power while others have none." </strong><br />
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<strong>On Saturday, September 14, Theodore Roosevelt received a telegram from John Hay . It read, “The President Died at Two-Fifteen This Morning.” </strong><br />
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<strong>In the company of Senator Mark Hanna, his friend and political manager, the President died. His last words were lines from his favorite hymn, “Nearer My God to Thee.”</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeeyiJ96wJiVRIWrP4K8hBRbFD9Pj_bgkNg5XqGWkxoo6te12mB-od1nZtjl31vWDwW-3Ll_duP1SX6vn0Fo-Y-IJlKEDOYv1VSB64pxtggDO_jK-FCYEC7W5NvMv-k_TyUDcp19xJ-SY/s1600/imagesCANJ1FKZ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeeyiJ96wJiVRIWrP4K8hBRbFD9Pj_bgkNg5XqGWkxoo6te12mB-od1nZtjl31vWDwW-3Ll_duP1SX6vn0Fo-Y-IJlKEDOYv1VSB64pxtggDO_jK-FCYEC7W5NvMv-k_TyUDcp19xJ-SY/s1600/imagesCANJ1FKZ.jpg" /></a></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-24402876500480413842011-01-05T20:30:00.001-05:002011-01-06T17:20:28.863-05:00Physician Heal Thy Self<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgk71Orl9GbmT5-auiWpWnm764j48VuhaNnLp9Q0n_WPY9ZVfUh15koJN-lyEFLv-N4hvAPYOXefU643-Y-P62NQRRL0znj9Z0rEMDIIxuXaREfj3Wp0oqPbHVuwpVjSuhDvjEwFY4s8/s1600/semmel2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgk71Orl9GbmT5-auiWpWnm764j48VuhaNnLp9Q0n_WPY9ZVfUh15koJN-lyEFLv-N4hvAPYOXefU643-Y-P62NQRRL0znj9Z0rEMDIIxuXaREfj3Wp0oqPbHVuwpVjSuhDvjEwFY4s8/s1600/semmel2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>In 1847, Jakob Kolletschka, a close friend of Hungarian doctor, Ignaz Semmelweis, cut his finger while he was doing an autopsy. Kolletschka soon died of symptoms like those of puerperal fever. </strong><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwPGsgBkI6RCAdoPYZDonRBmcQSTzmJyuzHXXMSr847Sg2vjVxlyrnOzp7PuTq1dFwJ3DM9HzC0BhX9gC5-c3dRK6Wi26TfMhXFHCApgz9z0jkUaG0qCJ1jI60XWcy5xmsB_aAcM8d2Q/s1600/094-783716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwPGsgBkI6RCAdoPYZDonRBmcQSTzmJyuzHXXMSr847Sg2vjVxlyrnOzp7PuTq1dFwJ3DM9HzC0BhX9gC5-c3dRK6Wi26TfMhXFHCApgz9z0jkUaG0qCJ1jI60XWcy5xmsB_aAcM8d2Q/s320/094-783716.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <strong>"There is not a corner in Britain where this formidable disease has not made many mourners,” John Mackintosh, an Edinburgh, Scotland "man-midwife" wrote of puerperal or "childbed" fever in the 1820s.</strong><br />
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<strong>This bacterial disease of the upper genital tract typically began within the first three days after childbirth with abdominal pain, fever and respiratory difficulty, and very often ended with the new mother's death.</strong><br />
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<strong>Medical writers had been remarking on childbed fever at least since Hippocrates, but in the early modern era, it began to attract attention for a number of reasons. For one, it began to appear in epidemics, with very high mortality rates. For another, accounts of outbreaks were written about and published.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>There were terrible epidemics of puerperal fever in the German city of Leipzig in 1652 and 1665, at the Hôtel Dieu in Paris, France, in 1745 and 1746, and at the British Lying-In Hospital in London, England, in 1760. </strong><br />
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<strong>In 1847, one of every six women whose babies were delivered by the medical students and supervising doctors at Allgemeine Krankenhaus (General Hospital) in Vienna died of puerperal fever.</strong><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7v2T_97bzn4gDlnsAYjax-VTxGYLfhcyyfNYUGylB6zEs85wWGS7Bru0kO0IHgZJX__0B-13KoJwIn3_RSc-TIg2gY1jfIKdZ-Hq6j_cYO0ntTxwfmoxc-ci9C2SB-11kzoAazG21o6I/s1600/ignaz_semmelweis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7v2T_97bzn4gDlnsAYjax-VTxGYLfhcyyfNYUGylB6zEs85wWGS7Bru0kO0IHgZJX__0B-13KoJwIn3_RSc-TIg2gY1jfIKdZ-Hq6j_cYO0ntTxwfmoxc-ci9C2SB-11kzoAazG21o6I/s320/ignaz_semmelweis.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Semmelweis</td></tr>
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<strong>The death rate consumed Dr. Semmelweis. He could not figure it out.</strong><br />
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<strong>A nearby obstetric hospital, run by midwives, lost only two percent of its patients to fever. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Not only was the incidence of this disease in women delivered by hospital midwives dramatically lower but puerperal fever was quite rare when mothers had their babies born at home.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>While a few physicians (most notably Alexander Gordon and Oliver Wendell Holmes) realized that childbed fever was a contagious process, it was Ignáz Semmelweis who identified the nature of the problem as stemming from the failure of obstetricians and medical students to wash their hands and change their clothing, especially after performing autopsies or doing surgery.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOGRayPyMzgQKUwQXYjHsn0QvBsCyCo3PLOgvqoXO0p_mONDRUqwtpbXBDYmLS7TOW_7YfmqTZE4wqqqouYSsvHCG8mNGcvvk-sydBh67TAhRCjsIBB26PsxRfvzBb8psQKqCmzee3Fk/s1600/imagesCAHOVM36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOGRayPyMzgQKUwQXYjHsn0QvBsCyCo3PLOgvqoXO0p_mONDRUqwtpbXBDYmLS7TOW_7YfmqTZE4wqqqouYSsvHCG8mNGcvvk-sydBh67TAhRCjsIBB26PsxRfvzBb8psQKqCmzee3Fk/s1600/imagesCAHOVM36.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Semelweiss concluded that some unknown "cadaveric material" caused childbed fever. </strong><br />
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<strong>No one had connected germs with disease yet. The first hint of that connection would come from England six years later and Joseph Lister would not demonstrate how to kill germs for another 18 years. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBpdL3da8DuqIJgZ2KsHaGXgln7RsMPkMaLNnhXdToGK3lpKvUmwz_OwtSna-jV9o2E_nH9qpRc8YD19jM5EYbL_x1wKyb63-JP8DOhaEf7LtTIuzeHt-XUg2Y_GK5qFT0seoGNfVGYY/s1600/imagesCAU3RHUS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBpdL3da8DuqIJgZ2KsHaGXgln7RsMPkMaLNnhXdToGK3lpKvUmwz_OwtSna-jV9o2E_nH9qpRc8YD19jM5EYbL_x1wKyb63-JP8DOhaEf7LtTIuzeHt-XUg2Y_GK5qFT0seoGNfVGYY/s1600/imagesCAU3RHUS.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQujpLSO_NwABEf0VBCsjioOcN1jpg6cKaXKSz41QR0402Uc2ik6GkEN6UUa3Q2xSfLwVyw8WDkuVKR4zWdlwatvYOgPJZPEgz5NqvRm6QhTPfKvXS6ZHV8VhTPFeYGLH0VHI68KmGgxU/s1600/imagesCA1YJ477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQujpLSO_NwABEf0VBCsjioOcN1jpg6cKaXKSz41QR0402Uc2ik6GkEN6UUa3Q2xSfLwVyw8WDkuVKR4zWdlwatvYOgPJZPEgz5NqvRm6QhTPfKvXS6ZHV8VhTPFeYGLH0VHI68KmGgxU/s1600/imagesCA1YJ477.jpg" /></a></div><strong>People, in the 1800s, found their way to the surgical ward of a hospital by following the smell of rotting flesh. Doctors saw no need to wash their hands between patients or after autopsies. </strong><br />
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<strong>In fact, an apron covered in layers of gore was thought to show how important and busy a doctor was. And instruments, of course, weren't washed between patients either.</strong><br />
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<strong>On a hunch, Semmelweis set up a policy. Doctors must wash their hands in a chlorine solution when they leave the cadavers and surgery and before examining any woman in labor.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"> Mortality from puerperal fever promptly dropped to two percent. </span></strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>But instead of reporting his success at a meeting, Semmelweis said nothing. Finally, a friend published two papers on the method. By then, Semmelweis had started washing medical instruments as well as hands. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74XSe5zj4OwVo5T4ACzuuG24CR2fPUtIi0x_3DHVAj55D3N3l0yCR0ux_ngOMrX9Gvp05KGy_-74PuKUJS0NiH09YPPv5sXskzOS4bsh1i6BAOk6SV_wAD85CkNcZf3BdCK3gviH2b4Y/s1600/imagesCA2WHEOC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74XSe5zj4OwVo5T4ACzuuG24CR2fPUtIi0x_3DHVAj55D3N3l0yCR0ux_ngOMrX9Gvp05KGy_-74PuKUJS0NiH09YPPv5sXskzOS4bsh1i6BAOk6SV_wAD85CkNcZf3BdCK3gviH2b4Y/s1600/imagesCA2WHEOC.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>As outside interest grew, Semmelweis's silence became understandable . The hospital director felt his leadership had been criticized. He was furious. He blocked Semmelweis's promotion. The situation got worse. Viennese doctors turned on him. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Finally, he went back to Budapest. There he brought his methods to a far more primitive hospital. <span style="font-size: large;">He cut death by puerperal fever to less than one percent.</span> He did more. He systematically isolated causes of death. He autopsied victims. He set up control groups. He studied statistics. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>He lectured publicly about his results in 1850, however, the reception by the medical community was cold, if not hostile. His observations went against the current scientific opinion of the time, which blamed diseases on an imbalance of the basic "humours" in the body.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>It was also argued that even if his findings were correct, washing one's hands each time before treating a pregnant woman, as Semmelweis advised, would be too much work. Nor were doctors eager to admit that they had caused so many deaths. </strong><br />
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<strong>Semmelweis spent 14 years developing his ideas and lobbying for their acceptance, culminating in a book he wrote in 1861. </strong><br />
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<strong>The medical establishment gave it poor reviews. Semmelweis grew angry and polemical. He hurt his own cause with rage and frustration. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>In 1865 he suffered a mental breakdown. Friends committed him to a mental institution. </strong><br />
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<strong>There – at the age of 47 -- he cut his finger.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>In days, he was dead...... of the very infection that killed his friend Kolletschka...... and from which he had saved thousands of mothers. </strong><br />
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<strong>That same year Joseph Lister began spraying a carbolic acid solution during surgery to kill germs. In the end, it was Lister who gave this hero his due. He said, "Without Semmelweis, my achievements would be nothing."</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-45071431076730242042010-12-23T16:55:00.009-05:002010-12-24T21:36:58.709-05:00WHAT CHILD IS THIS?<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">What child is this, who laid to rest,</span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ELjtpVGEFdCmoX6AKm0LJv3m3D9qUNXWew-nLPkNyAvN2NE5Bf47fr6JZKWxQW5AAWF4w44QswZ86YQwq-pHUhaqdddwealPlyISQWcQ4YR2_eDoOL70Ve2Z4GUBoaO4UqWPfIgz_04/s1600/mary+rest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ELjtpVGEFdCmoX6AKm0LJv3m3D9qUNXWew-nLPkNyAvN2NE5Bf47fr6JZKWxQW5AAWF4w44QswZ86YQwq-pHUhaqdddwealPlyISQWcQ4YR2_eDoOL70Ve2Z4GUBoaO4UqWPfIgz_04/s1600/mary+rest.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">on Mary's lap is sleeping?</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Matthew 1:18-25 (King James Version)</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">“ When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a public example, was minded to put her away privily. "</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">What child is this? </span> A question that had to have echoed in Joesph’s mind.</strong><br />
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<strong>Joseph was not exactly JOYFUL when his fiance told him she was PREGNANT! Not only that, but Mary kept saying that the baby’s father was the HOLY GHOST. All Joseph knew was that he had NOTHING to do with it.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Joseph’s life was at least, interrupted, and at worst, scandalized. </strong><br />
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<strong>But Joseph was a decent man. So when he got this “terrible news” instead of publicly accusing Mary and having her STONED, which he could have done… Joseph decided to quietly divorce her. Wow! Such a simple, understated solution.</strong><br />
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<strong>He could have ruined her and her family, he could have had her killed.</strong><br />
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<strong>He was standing there while all his dreams of life with his wife were in ruins. But still, he decided to remove himself from what seemed to be an adulterous relationship. Compassion…</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> <strong>So, this decision having been made, Joseph retired to bed. But, his dreams were invaded by an ANGEL with a message:</strong><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"> <strong>“ Behold, the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong> </strong><strong>And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins." </strong></span><br />
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<strong>Joseph woke up! Did God REALLY just send him direction or was it just a dream? </strong><br />
<strong>Joseph still had the power to choose. . We know the choice he made.....</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">“When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife...</span></strong><br />
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<strong>The father naming his child was very important at this time. It said something about the family lineage. In the Book of Matthew it says, </strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">“This is the genealogy of Jesus, the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham”. But when you read through it, notice how the genealogy ends: “and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, and Mary was the mother of Jesus who is called Messiah.” </span></strong><br />
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<strong>This is Joseph’s family line, not Mary’s! </strong><br />
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<strong>But Joseph is NOT Jesus’ dad.</strong><br />
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<strong>Jesus is <span style="font-size: large;">God’s</span> Son! But, Jesus’ lineage is through Joseph not Mary. He would not be connected to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, if he were not connected to Joseph. </strong><br />
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<strong>It is absolutely CRITICAL that Joseph accept Jesus as his son. When he names Jesus, Joseph claims him as his own and thus within his family's lineage. He raises him and teaches him. Jesus is the son of Joseph the Carpenter.</strong><br />
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<strong>Jesus, like too many babies, was an unpleasant surprise for Joseph.</strong><br />
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<strong>Baby Jesus challenged his concept of what his family would be. He was stuck raising a child that was not his, and, to add to the difficulties, Jesus was a SPECIAL child with needs and a future that was destined to be different. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>That is what babies do…. they happen and challenge all of us. We get interrupted with this little human gift that isn’t always easy to receive. They demand that we change our lives and make different decisions. The challenge is not in receiving the gift we want but in accepting the gift we are given. </strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>For Joseph, and for Mary, the existence of this baby might have been a terrible event. But Joseph made a choice. He kept Mary alive thus saving her child, he married her and gave that child his name. And the rest of this story unfolds because of that choice. He chose life. Had Joseph chosen differently the story would have had a very different ending. </strong><br />
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<strong>As Christmas Eve approaches, and we celebrate the birth of this most Special Child, may we all turn around and, like Joseph, see with new eyes. May we recognize the gift and purpose of the tiny lives that are given us. May we grant them their RIGHT to interrupt, change, and surprise us with their existence in our world.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-88109540138445142852010-12-20T13:51:00.000-05:002010-12-20T13:51:03.364-05:00Here We Come A'Wassailing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb12BvPS0I4Nkxl8rjsf3lgXDzHpUCCWvhw8vVjHB_AEu7UsVdz7vwQg0nAElF81ILNkqlU0z7rDUCNDJM0EvOUc-D-6oN1kFxvDj4vKvgvHQ3SWEJgBQPwPvFbmGpofaj2xz9rCsQmvke/s1600/imagesCA4OO8B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb12BvPS0I4Nkxl8rjsf3lgXDzHpUCCWvhw8vVjHB_AEu7UsVdz7vwQg0nAElF81ILNkqlU0z7rDUCNDJM0EvOUc-D-6oN1kFxvDj4vKvgvHQ3SWEJgBQPwPvFbmGpofaj2xz9rCsQmvke/s1600/imagesCA4OO8B2.jpg" /></a></div><strong>The word Wassail comes from the Anglo-Saxon and Norse “'Ves heill” a toast meaning "be thou hale" or "be in good health". The tradition of wassailing is pre-Christian and far outdates the celebration of Christmas. </strong><br />
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<strong>Lambswool was the traditional wassail drink used in the ceremony of blessing the ground around a home, farm or orchard.</strong><br />
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<strong>Lambswool, or Lamb’s Wool, is either so called after the light colour and frothy appearance of the drink on the surface, or, it stems from being served at La mas ubal, that is, ‘The Day of the Apple Fruit’; and being pronounced lamasool, it was corrupted to Lambs Wool. It was an ale/cider mixed with spices and roasted apples.</strong><br />
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<strong>The oldest ceremonies go back to Pagan times, seeking to start off the first stirrings of life in the land, and to help it emerge from winter – ensuring that the next season’s crop, (especially apples and pears in the orchard) would be bountiful. The purpose of Wassailing, in other words, is to awake the cider apple trees and to scare away evil spirits thus to ensure a good harvest of fruit in the Autumn.</strong><br />
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<strong>The ceremonies of each wassail varied from village to village but have core elements in common.</strong><br />
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<strong>The most common date for this custom is Twelfth Night, the night of the 5th January, or on the ‘old’ 12th Night, January 17th – but it can vary as a tradition from one local area to the next, over the whole period of mid-winter.</strong><br />
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<strong>A King and Queen of the Wassail led the proceedings, a song and/or a processional tune was played/sung from one orchard to the next, the wassail Queen was lifted up into the boughs of the tree where she placed toast that has been soaked in Wassail from the Clayen Cup (made of rosemary wood) as a gift the tree spirits and to show them the fruits of what they created the previous year.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Here we come a wassailing</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Among the leaves so green,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Here we come a wandering</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">So fair to be seen. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Our wassail cup is made</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Of the rosemary tree,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And so is your beer</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Of the best barley. </span></strong><br />
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<strong>Then an incantation was recited such as: "Here's to thee, old apple tree, That blooms well, bears well. Hats full, caps full, three bags full,…….. </strong><br />
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<strong>Or,… "Wassail the trees, that they may bear / You many a Plum and many a Pear: / For more or less fruits they will bring, / As you do give them Wassailing."</strong><br />
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<strong>Then the assembled crowd sung, shouted, and banged drums, and made a terrible racket and they went to the next orchard .(This practice carried over to the modern day New Year's practice of making noise to welcome the new year)</strong><br />
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<strong>In the middle ages it was a reciprocal exchange between the feudal lords and their peasants. A method of charitable giving , to be distinguished from begging. During this time the peasants could demand gifts of the lords. </strong><br />
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<strong>This point is made in the song "Here We Come A-Wassailing", when the wassailers inform the lord of the house that: </strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We are not daily beggars</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">That beg from door to door,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">But we are neighbours' children</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Whom you have seen before.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Good Master and good Mistress,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">As you sit by the fire,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Pray think of us poor children</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Are wandering in the mire.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We have a little purse</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Made of ratching (stretchable) leather skin;</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We want some of your small change</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">To line it well within. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Call up the Butler of this house,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Put on his golden ring;</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Let him bring us a glass of beer,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And the better we shall sing. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Bring us out a table,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And spread it with a cloth;</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Bring us out a mouldy cheese,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And some of your Christmas loaf.</span></strong><br />
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<strong>The lord of the manor would give food and drink to the peasants in exchange for their blessing and goodwill:</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Love and joy come to you,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And to you your wassail too,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And God bless you and send you a happy New Year.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And God send you a happy New Year.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">God bless the Master of this house,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Likewise the Mistress too;</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And all the little children</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">That round the table go. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Love and joy come to you,</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And to you your wassail too </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And God bless you and send you a happy New Year.</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">And God send you a happy New Year. </span></strong><br />
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<strong>Wassailing is the background practice of the carol "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" :</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We wish you a Merry Christmas; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We wish you a Merry Christmas; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Good tidings we bring to you and your kin; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year. </span></strong><br />
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<strong>Wassailing, in practice, was often coercive. In early New England wassailing was associated with rowdy bands of young men who would enter the homes of wealthy neighbors and demand free food and drink in a trick-or-treat fashion. If the householder refused, he was usually cursed, and occasionally his house was vandalized.</strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Oh, bring us a figgy pudding; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Oh, bring us a figgy pudding; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">Oh, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer</span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We won't go until we get some; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We won't go until we get some; </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #38761d;">We won't go until we get some, so bring some out here</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Carol is the derivation of the word wassail.</span> It travels through the old French "caroler" and the Latin "choraula" to the Greek "choros", a circling dance often accompanied by singing and associated with dramatic performances, religious festivities and fertility rites.</strong><br />
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<strong>The carol was a major element in popular celebrations to mark the passing of the winter solstice and the promise of spring. Carols existed long before Christianity. Eventually Christian lyrics were put to the ancient tunes. And traveling from orchard to orchard changed to traveling from house to house waking the spirit with joyful noise and song.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>So, now that you understand the concept…gather your friends and family.</strong><br />
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<strong>On twelfth-night, (either the new one on the 5th January or the old one on the 17th January) toast a thick slice of rustic bread and place it into the bottom of a communal bowl. Then pour in the prepared lambswool. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69vQXBcxVjlZwWAd7rzjuDnpzBYJ1_X6hmKNWqPSa-8GeoszGlF71INhZpn8K9s9VeJQdtZHxIcovEcrNqC3zH7j7ErLRxLLzylhuhCDbOhazBjbtiMxdzsWvoiY4t1KiNOwnEB5EGA2t/s1600/Lambswool-Wassail-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69vQXBcxVjlZwWAd7rzjuDnpzBYJ1_X6hmKNWqPSa-8GeoszGlF71INhZpn8K9s9VeJQdtZHxIcovEcrNqC3zH7j7ErLRxLLzylhuhCDbOhazBjbtiMxdzsWvoiY4t1KiNOwnEB5EGA2t/s320/Lambswool-Wassail-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Take the bowl out into your back yard with friends and family, carrying lighted torches aflame, and pots and pans to beat with wooden spoons and sticks, (with more toast to hang in the branches of the trees and more cups of lambswool to drink and splash around to bless the area</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdh5i9BJxC-YlhKl-zithsmfQY33m6NTFfbzlMtI78CVv1KdhSJENft43ln8Kx6PVLLWgY79qIvygGVC8rHgwnJUS6EVfNKwcdtIMUJxzFIcTMFbIsC3LNXZc3mzhV_IsAehvfPFRF9tOr/s1600/imagesCA3ODRY7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdh5i9BJxC-YlhKl-zithsmfQY33m6NTFfbzlMtI78CVv1KdhSJENft43ln8Kx6PVLLWgY79qIvygGVC8rHgwnJUS6EVfNKwcdtIMUJxzFIcTMFbIsC3LNXZc3mzhV_IsAehvfPFRF9tOr/s1600/imagesCA3ODRY7.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Make noise and light, crying “wassail! wassail!” (or sing one of the many rhymes) to drive off the unwanted spirits of the old year – beat the trunks of the trees with the sticks and splash the trunks with a little Lamb’s Wool.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLa8PjC4n_v-gBYhDYbM4BHF1XKPp_PwUILUhMduvdV_XIKFxtE7k4t-LVCulAcfd4Qrsjg6-KrZD9p-cCFkLJn787v6dr0qK5If_wBhXexP6NnLdJ6ReR7RhEF2zbkHUS6K-Anmq1WhOC/s1600/imagesCAFO204R.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLa8PjC4n_v-gBYhDYbM4BHF1XKPp_PwUILUhMduvdV_XIKFxtE7k4t-LVCulAcfd4Qrsjg6-KrZD9p-cCFkLJn787v6dr0qK5If_wBhXexP6NnLdJ6ReR7RhEF2zbkHUS6K-Anmq1WhOC/s1600/imagesCAFO204R.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> After everyone present has taken a drink from the lambswool (from the communal wassail bowl) pour a little of the lambswool and soggy toast from the bowl into the ground around the roots of a tree and put further fresh pieces of toast, dipped in lambswool, into the branches as a token to the new spirits of the new year, and a nod to the old ways of doing things.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_aoJ6ffw2KAHMby06HclXVYLAiGiEuEOO0EiwF0j7JgyCDQoWuJ4Se3z4DWG3I4wYmyhp4EogCZELpUyaFTfOdDuuJrQwkdUfxz59Yqb4UbpXY-kEHz8aPqKG7minbog_V18qy6Nj0z-/s1600/imagesCAMCXVG3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_aoJ6ffw2KAHMby06HclXVYLAiGiEuEOO0EiwF0j7JgyCDQoWuJ4Se3z4DWG3I4wYmyhp4EogCZELpUyaFTfOdDuuJrQwkdUfxz59Yqb4UbpXY-kEHz8aPqKG7minbog_V18qy6Nj0z-/s1600/imagesCAMCXVG3.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>And this is what you might have to explain to the cops when the neighbors have complained about the drunken party at your house.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOnxpA01KF7bx1fvwtbZ6wyWwtQZv4d_h4Qqr-mtbVc6JEwsBKkthl9velUBTyHJ_KOOyMZ6elCaZPpWubjYZ6l2Oku3rBxLPL72wY-8ay3yG7PodaUk_3OY8xpXLmTarTOODIyQxW4gu/s1600/ddddd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBOnxpA01KF7bx1fvwtbZ6wyWwtQZv4d_h4Qqr-mtbVc6JEwsBKkthl9velUBTyHJ_KOOyMZ6elCaZPpWubjYZ6l2Oku3rBxLPL72wY-8ay3yG7PodaUk_3OY8xpXLmTarTOODIyQxW4gu/s1600/ddddd.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><strong><span style="font-size: large;">WASSAIL!!!!</span></strong> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGm515TXh2Cy8bg9TzJdELwP5DKuVqDd5biir5DSxO38J_P9SabR5_WiylCk0oV4ckdc8olCkAE2NckobKwDcGDduKh1nWCnpOdOPoaJ_CwHE0KDu0rPfwVMcWw7U6CJPpjcccAh8yTw8/s1600/yui.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGm515TXh2Cy8bg9TzJdELwP5DKuVqDd5biir5DSxO38J_P9SabR5_WiylCk0oV4ckdc8olCkAE2NckobKwDcGDduKh1nWCnpOdOPoaJ_CwHE0KDu0rPfwVMcWw7U6CJPpjcccAh8yTw8/s320/yui.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7342837757292047891.post-78939166392254602772010-12-15T19:44:00.001-05:002010-12-15T19:46:14.354-05:00Who Is At The Bottom Of The Memory Hole?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJH9WmKn3SUF1Pt07sw-0MFypKBoceRQzp2W_ZpYFUh6cZUGuUdN8yVxKfrZKfNnOcNI9xvGoyGpnMz3xi6gRrWYoFBb03GeQi2e-zgVtZ80INdeSEDFsZcLFEfl6sAqEGf_pr3mo0v5T/s1600/koil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJH9WmKn3SUF1Pt07sw-0MFypKBoceRQzp2W_ZpYFUh6cZUGuUdN8yVxKfrZKfNnOcNI9xvGoyGpnMz3xi6gRrWYoFBb03GeQi2e-zgVtZ80INdeSEDFsZcLFEfl6sAqEGf_pr3mo0v5T/s1600/koil.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Kwanzaa… December 26 through January 22 …. Warm, fuzzy Afrocentric holiday. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijc6E2xs7CzRY9OE0ivYXHdtg_W_xr_5y-TfbvQ7B1QGt9mOuSpJBY0RngJ5vP8SYS-G0OZkoCmeIYvUwgDt4nRvBJvcqDBEFnyDoDwZewgvv86qgroZ9-PKFYX6fknjdVq3teT2Pdhglr/s1600/aswq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijc6E2xs7CzRY9OE0ivYXHdtg_W_xr_5y-TfbvQ7B1QGt9mOuSpJBY0RngJ5vP8SYS-G0OZkoCmeIYvUwgDt4nRvBJvcqDBEFnyDoDwZewgvv86qgroZ9-PKFYX6fknjdVq3teT2Pdhglr/s1600/aswq.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Many educated people actually believe that Kwanzaa is some sort of ancient African harvest festival. </strong><strong>The reality is that Kwanzaa never saw Africa.</strong><br />
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<strong>Let me introduce you to Maulana Ron Karenga … black radical activist, academic, convicted felon….and the founder of KWANZAA.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ26fBp0b-0h-0WERwftolpdxwqhM_HY4r_VLHPqvggDWl058IzTYUYhCFg2RCksgqFoPHKyKE1kt3WlTWj1dC5U4I67ZVXI-1YmSm3uzXnUOT20ORHp7B6mQkF16qutl2DOHwTUKwHjoa/s1600/imagesCATREZIY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ26fBp0b-0h-0WERwftolpdxwqhM_HY4r_VLHPqvggDWl058IzTYUYhCFg2RCksgqFoPHKyKE1kt3WlTWj1dC5U4I67ZVXI-1YmSm3uzXnUOT20ORHp7B6mQkF16qutl2DOHwTUKwHjoa/s1600/imagesCATREZIY.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Karenga's real name is Ron N. Everett. In the '60s, he awarded himself the title "maulana," Swahili for "master teacher." He was born on a chicken farm in Maryland. He was the fourteenth child of a Baptist minister. There was no doubt that he was bright.</strong><br />
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<strong>He came to California in the late 1950s to attend Los Angeles Community College. He moved on to UCLA, where he got a Master's degree in political science and African Studies.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYGrLlkwZQ0q9ag3H4_swfk4Domi-olzbBzQOuTrofSh8_-T05gRsZrxbQ0iTfHwqynDGMf4-VSZvPwpExxgfzIXO4DVKx_kHqxodMFANT9ej0DVHH8vFENVGMHw-TJG3V7fNg-VJgtpi/s1600/Black-Pride.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYGrLlkwZQ0q9ag3H4_swfk4Domi-olzbBzQOuTrofSh8_-T05gRsZrxbQ0iTfHwqynDGMf4-VSZvPwpExxgfzIXO4DVKx_kHqxodMFANT9ej0DVHH8vFENVGMHw-TJG3V7fNg-VJgtpi/s200/Black-Pride.gif" width="200" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>By the mid-1960s, he had established himself as a leading "cultural nationalist." This term distinguished Karenga's followers from the Black Panthers, who were conventional Marxists.</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhjLiDaPnzi6O6FZ_YkFMA7mUYDAxROjTJyBS_HXKdYqjGddwBbYHzGJ4vxt5Fmi9MPDi_VnWBq-nzaWGpqujBM6nR4ry_t2lE6nQPvY24pqHdD5c1ho6aaWDrF2gFtQXTKlCKz2tfTSF/s1600/imagesCA2WXPN3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhjLiDaPnzi6O6FZ_YkFMA7mUYDAxROjTJyBS_HXKdYqjGddwBbYHzGJ4vxt5Fmi9MPDi_VnWBq-nzaWGpqujBM6nR4ry_t2lE6nQPvY24pqHdD5c1ho6aaWDrF2gFtQXTKlCKz2tfTSF/s1600/imagesCA2WXPN3.jpg" /></a><br />
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<strong>Cultural nationalists strictly followed the rules laid down in The Quotable Karenga, a book that laid out "The Path of Blackness." "The sevenfold path of blackness is think black, talk black, act black, create black, buy black, vote black, and live black,"</strong><br />
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<strong>The year was 1969. There was a battle going on for control of the UCLA black studies program by two black radical groups on campus. The first was the Black Panthers and the second was United Slaves, led by Mr. Karenga. Both groups felt very free to strut around campus carrying loaded guns. Surprise!... Violence ensued. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia-UjPPhbEV6rRnE8-2jmQw6vzC0pR6GrdySgCFV9bZ1hwq8WYTErhrtbgvOTa8tHKYzX8IwtMtvL26qk2w42d4nIdiyLYkwdctDc1OEl97OaMIAR9Rr7ItiF3l6umCHsMjJ_gEpQFz6W/s1600/imagesCA5NYZ7S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjia-UjPPhbEV6rRnE8-2jmQw6vzC0pR6GrdySgCFV9bZ1hwq8WYTErhrtbgvOTa8tHKYzX8IwtMtvL26qk2w42d4nIdiyLYkwdctDc1OEl97OaMIAR9Rr7ItiF3l6umCHsMjJ_gEpQFz6W/s1600/imagesCA5NYZ7S.jpg" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>On Jan. 17, 1969, about 150 students gathered in a lunchroom to “discuss” the situation. Two of the Panthers spent a good part of the meeting in verbal attacks against Karenga. This did not sit well with Karenga's followers.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Karenga was "dissed" by John Jerome Huggins, 23, and Alprentice "Bunchy" Carter, 26. After the meeting, the two Panthers were met in the hallway by two brothers who were members of US, George P. and Larry Joseph Stiner. The Stiners pulled pistols and shot the two Panthers dead. One of the Stiners took a bullet in the shoulder, apparently from a Panther's gun.</strong><br />
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<strong> </strong><strong>Black Panther John Higgins was “murdered—along with Al ‘Bunchy’ Carter—on the UCLA campus by members of Ron Karenga’s organization.” After this killing, the FBI infiltrated both groups, and Karenga’s group, United Slaves, turned to fighting “enemies within.” </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuyBIBEqXUJJeiRSYZgqqLjxQta8TLCqK7R6vM4zFpSt4oCslW1FMPOFBW3aXNkNkciRzyC2BbIrNez9zKtOfPi1tMmXc3XQKIOL-XVQE4CXfYuPFBOLehMlZmh-_SsarRL5ucLW6QSsf/s1600/imagesCATSFLAC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuyBIBEqXUJJeiRSYZgqqLjxQta8TLCqK7R6vM4zFpSt4oCslW1FMPOFBW3aXNkNkciRzyC2BbIrNez9zKtOfPi1tMmXc3XQKIOL-XVQE4CXfYuPFBOLehMlZmh-_SsarRL5ucLW6QSsf/s1600/imagesCATSFLAC.jpg" /></a></div><strong>There were other beatings and shooting in Los Angeles involving US, but by then the tradition of African nationalism had already taken hold. The university went ahead with its Afro-American Studies Program.</strong><br />
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<strong>Karenga, meanwhile, continued to build and strengthen US, a unique group that seems to have combined the elements of a street gang with those of a California type cult. The members performed assaults and robberies …evidently a requirement of “cultural nationalism”. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpprHouxm3dweIgSl7FpJn2Sv3GuaFy6YWIZ5RSn3Tt7-YSc3_9Yn5nOO4aoz8yVS_mjW-d9YdRB5UaJcE8lBrhP_oO5m3a9dUezLr1zR8wp5w3DIhH7_cTvrOVbE7EeCSVFpCkuH3Oo6/s1600/hju.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpprHouxm3dweIgSl7FpJn2Sv3GuaFy6YWIZ5RSn3Tt7-YSc3_9Yn5nOO4aoz8yVS_mjW-d9YdRB5UaJcE8lBrhP_oO5m3a9dUezLr1zR8wp5w3DIhH7_cTvrOVbE7EeCSVFpCkuH3Oo6/s1600/hju.bmp" /></a></div><strong><br />
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<strong>Karenga apparently fell into deep paranoia shortly after the killings at UCLA. He began fearing that his followers were trying to have him killed. <span style="font-size: large;">On May 9, 1970 he initiated the torture session that led to his imprisonment</span></strong><br />
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<strong>In May of 1970, two of those “inside enemies” were female members tortured by their “comrades” Both testified that Karenga ordered and participated in their assaults.</strong><br />
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<strong>A May 14, 1971, article in the Los Angeles Times described the testimony of one of them</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoX9zUE8_aYQYY3OtGsMNIejXDKJW58f9LELkkgU5D6dmx2HTRDhb5Urqm4L151wdGtWpejmUwggKgh-nYNtan7NKqRGBIgpryTJyW1nPGrRYtMxY94lJ5C0tC3OHbSn04Fo92a1FydOwf/s1600/imagesCA2ZI6LV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoX9zUE8_aYQYY3OtGsMNIejXDKJW58f9LELkkgU5D6dmx2HTRDhb5Urqm4L151wdGtWpejmUwggKgh-nYNtan7NKqRGBIgpryTJyW1nPGrRYtMxY94lJ5C0tC3OHbSn04Fo92a1FydOwf/s1600/imagesCA2ZI6LV.jpg" /></a></div><strong> "Deborah Jones, who once was given the Swahili title of an African queen, said she and Gail Davis were whipped with an electrical cord and beaten with a karate baton after being ordered to remove their clothes. She testified that a hot soldering iron was placed in Miss Davis' mouth and placed against Miss Davis' face and that one of her own big toes was tightened in a vise. Karenga, head of US, also put detergent and running hoses in their mouths, she said."</strong><br />
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<strong> The following day . . . Karenga, holding a gun, threatened to shoot both of them.”</strong><br />
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<strong>What a guy!!</strong><br />
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<strong>Mr. Karenga was convicted of felonious assault and false imprisonment. He was sentenced in 1971 to up to 10 years in prison. </strong><br />
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<strong>An extremely brief account of the sentencing ran in several newspapers the following day. And that was the last newspaper article to discuss Ron’s <span style="font-size: large;">unfortunate incarceration</span> and enjoyment of performing horrific acts on his own people.</strong><br />
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<strong>From that point forward he became WONDERFUL! He established<span style="font-size: large;"> Kwanzaa</span>. Numerous favorable articles written about him began to flow.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbukyMuRfoejOH8VCJKv-PoGVooM7_7DMswmlOTctffwXRWADJAK_UQVPNivX3KFwNR_34XcpYf65K_V8M32tYHJcwOztOFaDg7_kY_9jCZoeKYmC3TEG6hu4FCP4u9xKKwprdsPWDHAwL/s1600/imagesCA1TF5Z4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbukyMuRfoejOH8VCJKv-PoGVooM7_7DMswmlOTctffwXRWADJAK_UQVPNivX3KFwNR_34XcpYf65K_V8M32tYHJcwOztOFaDg7_kY_9jCZoeKYmC3TEG6hu4FCP4u9xKKwprdsPWDHAwL/s1600/imagesCA1TF5Z4.jpg" /></a></div><strong>He was released in 1975. Mr. Karenga then walked into the job as head of the black studies department at California State University, Long Beach, which he runs to this day. Yes….while in prison he got a PHD at taxpayers’ expense and achieved what the previous murders could not. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-gj2qCWfoWm-rFInJyeeYO0kaFzEcAFE344Kaz5AXNl4CNbks0zEJz_OPYxz0dYdzUPQ5v1YNeSx64MG76MnLEstXKdC7aPwuHHwVKI8I1D0wwM8mflwM1RwfZz9hVo2YObUX-gHxQBE/s1600/imagesCAU66IOI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-gj2qCWfoWm-rFInJyeeYO0kaFzEcAFE344Kaz5AXNl4CNbks0zEJz_OPYxz0dYdzUPQ5v1YNeSx64MG76MnLEstXKdC7aPwuHHwVKI8I1D0wwM8mflwM1RwfZz9hVo2YObUX-gHxQBE/s1600/imagesCAU66IOI.jpg" /></a></div><strong>Ain’t America great?</strong><br />
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<strong>Karenga had just ten years earlier proven himself capable of employing guns and bullets in his efforts to control hiring in the Black Studies Department at UCLA. So how did this ex-con, fresh out jail, get the job at Long Beach?</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JjbY7mtWTXhAOZMFROPvd2UzR6-8e25N17vlV1ShzC1nQ-O3cilitnDy8JAzU05lKqRdAuTl_C7abdNT4cmq40gkR4TtuUDkVymXHNtTyamaea3BRd5m3WITW8jQ9FCwHNuhoCYyTQKG/s1600/imagesCA1Y7PYF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6JjbY7mtWTXhAOZMFROPvd2UzR6-8e25N17vlV1ShzC1nQ-O3cilitnDy8JAzU05lKqRdAuTl_C7abdNT4cmq40gkR4TtuUDkVymXHNtTyamaea3BRd5m3WITW8jQ9FCwHNuhoCYyTQKG/s1600/imagesCA1Y7PYF.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong> We don’t know because UCLA has no response aside from being HAPPY that he is there. </strong><br />
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<strong>And now to Kwanzaa.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavM729cdVK9g1hpZZNXGUvYCyhSpBoHipSrrvnCOq7GRX74-8gg0WoERzpmJhx5mQD-LoCEpN4JcJPbMgU-xhLcDkVpDY5snFNbxFe2bEa2V5T1vsk738oQiLyjj0DOn6WMf-74LvRleG/s1600/imagesCAOAV216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjavM729cdVK9g1hpZZNXGUvYCyhSpBoHipSrrvnCOq7GRX74-8gg0WoERzpmJhx5mQD-LoCEpN4JcJPbMgU-xhLcDkVpDY5snFNbxFe2bEa2V5T1vsk738oQiLyjj0DOn6WMf-74LvRleG/s1600/imagesCAOAV216.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>The seven days of this festival supposedly celebrate “traditional African” principles, such as “collective work” and “cooperative economics,” each referred to by a Swahili name. </strong><br />
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<strong>The Swahili is interesting. American blacks came primarily from Ghana and West Africa. Swahili is spoken by people in Kenya and Tanzania which just happen to be THOUSANDS of miles away from West Africa. They don’t speak Swahili there.</strong><br />
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<strong>This can be compared to celebrating Columbus Day by speaking Chinese.</strong><br />
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<strong>DR. Ron also made his harvest festival near the winter solstice. Not much harvesting going on at that time.</strong><br />
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<strong>Karenga sat down in prison and made stew. Into it he put different traditions and languages.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVJLWaDWG5dVWssGuM2dGqay5sytG6bFOrohRarCtO4ipiPdxzpIjiQ58kzOY5vRsAEM4jxX58NTp701AYI-XB7U_c4j8ADZ8P3bNw96_D9x1iQHOB8D9P2Gh-GRGIfiX1mM8T8gCrF2p/s1600/Pic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVJLWaDWG5dVWssGuM2dGqay5sytG6bFOrohRarCtO4ipiPdxzpIjiQ58kzOY5vRsAEM4jxX58NTp701AYI-XB7U_c4j8ADZ8P3bNw96_D9x1iQHOB8D9P2Gh-GRGIfiX1mM8T8gCrF2p/s320/Pic2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong> He seasoned it with Marxist ideas to reflect a unified African culture that has <span style="font-size: large;">never existed anywhere!</span></strong><br />
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<strong>Swahili word Ujamaa, means “cooperative economics” and is one of the seven principles of Kwanzaa. This happens to be the term Julius Nyerere, the socialist leader of Tanzania, used for his disastrous policy of putting tens of thousands of Tanzanians on collective farms. </strong><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcfYoOhYcSZqnYBUIS-n9QYgyWPUKasezn7g92QNx04dxi3z_r777CAxbI-iMI5kPxf3uYWPo4HrBdyMYIdvdxQjbWt3KLDPsG4kBq1HY3fuxJ1tYYVz3W1d3WBfamUj6BtuBDsh-04gq/s1600/imagesCAWD2B80.jpg" /></div><strong>YEA! Ujamaa!</strong><br />
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<strong>Karenga admitted in a 1978 Washington Post interview that, “People think it’s African, but it’s not, I put it around Christmas because I knew that’s when a lot of ‘bloods’ [Blacks] would be partying.” </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUE7hbGAhQHj7SCbR2qy_eG3RCekzCyB3HHZ4FdYx4f_lnUZOjwRxYgmVSZdPWiqeHNKACYHhdGFs1fPbXHL8R6h14Jp6D3fs9N21ohtlJjMThuW5JPyNMoDkFqr9Z_XLUg4s6f9CjxLxN/s1600/imagesCATIV8EN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUE7hbGAhQHj7SCbR2qy_eG3RCekzCyB3HHZ4FdYx4f_lnUZOjwRxYgmVSZdPWiqeHNKACYHhdGFs1fPbXHL8R6h14Jp6D3fs9N21ohtlJjMThuW5JPyNMoDkFqr9Z_XLUg4s6f9CjxLxN/s1600/imagesCATIV8EN.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Actually, I guess the evidence shows that Karenga has reformed. </strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS37uD6ytfmRYOes1XCno4AJtqAe7yOroG7dWOuq9jbwNm5ERoWUfEMzRdNWuiLizSFDrG13CV5-Xeze0DQf5dEyX_03lVIdh3CiT3f7Pnt3-G0hz5luZ1zr47gm-lYyg_cYUNGpiSuZqX/s1600/Lester%2527s%252520Kwanza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS37uD6ytfmRYOes1XCno4AJtqAe7yOroG7dWOuq9jbwNm5ERoWUfEMzRdNWuiLizSFDrG13CV5-Xeze0DQf5dEyX_03lVIdh3CiT3f7Pnt3-G0hz5luZ1zr47gm-lYyg_cYUNGpiSuZqX/s1600/Lester%2527s%252520Kwanza.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karenga at podium</td></tr>
</tbody></table><strong>In 1975, he dropped his cultural nationalist views and converted to Marxism. He has stayed out of trouble. He has become rotund and colorfully avuncular. </strong><strong><br />
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<strong>But now that Karenga is a Marxist, the capitalists have taken over his holiday. The seven principles of Kwanzaa include "collective work" and "cooperative economics," but Kwanzaa has become as commercial as Christmas, generating millions. </strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYU6LT8rgnbSnTZ_1yrhFO69Wn3XsGUrRdC2yFBEmCmkTITPhUeR5WiAM9PEcs8Sxfn5GHfXWsBdgND9PB04LulNb73t4PypakeH0XB5k8csPMdtfrT2ybLwjA7FPZm1lx9hHOHy6Fo15/s1600/imagesCADFI3AU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYU6LT8rgnbSnTZ_1yrhFO69Wn3XsGUrRdC2yFBEmCmkTITPhUeR5WiAM9PEcs8Sxfn5GHfXWsBdgND9PB04LulNb73t4PypakeH0XB5k8csPMdtfrT2ybLwjA7FPZm1lx9hHOHy6Fo15/s1600/imagesCADFI3AU.jpg" /></a></div><strong>The purists are whining.</strong><br />
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<strong>But, as those Kwanzaa candles are lit, the Kwanzaa cake is eaten, and schools everywhere include it on the HOLIDAY wall along with a dreidel and a WINTER TREE…maybe it is just kinder to allow those who celebrate this holiday to do so in happy ignorance of the sordid acts, the violence, the paranoia, and the damage that helped generate its birth 40 years ago.</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Seekerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11622806204658854330noreply@blogger.com1