FailureToCommunicate's Journal - Archives
a family that had a snake(!) lawn mowing, yard work, snow shoveling, window washing, paper route (ugh!) house painting, census taker, warehouse monkey stacking and mailing phonebooks (remember them?) even tried golf caddy one week (and hated it!)
and of course we brothers all had (unpaid) chores around the house. Maybe the best money making endeavor was several winters a couple of neighborhood kids and I would wait near the bottom of the slight hill in front of our house waiting for the big cars from the rich town next to ours and when the car got stuck, we'd kindly offer to help push... for $5, $10, or $20 bucks. (We only thought of collecting the money FIRST after the first several drove off without stopping to pay what they'd promised!)
Fond as those memories MAY have become, I still think Gingrinch's "idea" is idiotic!
Thanks, MindPilot, for the thread.
the size of their hearts and passions.
When we lived in Germany the town where Thomas Quasthoff grew up, Hildesheim, was nearby so it is likely that his parents were part my father's family meetings promoting the notion of mainstreaming.
Greet the man (not the disability) was his message.
My father was denied entry to the close by grade school because the headmaster was sure his odd look -no arms- would disrupt the other children's learning. He , and his two brothers, had to walk 3 miles to a different schoolhouse where the teacher was more tolerant of differences. The other kids' curiosity lasted about five minutes and from then on he was just part of the class. My father thought of that first teacher as he got his second doctorate, and what might have been different if his parents had not insisted he go to school even thought much further away...
Thalidomide from being offered in the US. The numbers of families affected would have been astronomical. Dr Kelsey stood her ground against huge pressure for drug company profits.
My father met extensively with European families in the 60's who had babies born with deformities, advocating for them to be accepted by the families and the community -mainstreamed instead of institutionalized.
Father was himself born without arms - on a farm in Missouri - due to something gestational (poultry virus?) similar to Thalidomide. Luckily his parents expected him to carry his weight for chores around the farm. He grew up feeling he should be able to try to do any of the things others took for granted - go to school, write, drive, go to college, fall in love...
The inequality of the wealth of the world always falls hardest on the poor and disabled. It shouldn't be that way, at least for health care!
Thanks Dipsydoodle, for the thread.
"Bloody Thursday" 15 May 1969
"...At one point, the Alameda County Sherriff's deputies chased people several blocks down Telegraph Ave. as far as Willard Junior High School at Derby Street, firing buckshot into their backs as they fled. Many people, including innnocent bystanders, suffered permanent, disabling injuries.
At least 128 Berkeley citizens sought medical treatment at local hospitals for head injuries and shotgun wounds inflicted by the police. No policemen were hospitalized."
Let's hope Veteran for Peace Scott Olsen survives his injuries
would get up and start mopping the dining hall floor. A few bleary hours later as you staggered out of a tent, Pete would already be up -picking up litter from the grounds.
You ask ask him how he's doing, he'd always say "Strugglin' on, strugglin' on"
He's the energizer bunny...
and of course a national treasure!
I got a chance to be within laughing distance of him when he gave SIGGRAPH Boston ('82) a sneak preview of LISA and that amazing operating system. "I had two goals for this" he told us, "I wanted an operating system that was easy enough for my mom to use, AND one that would make other computer makers say 'Oh sh*t!'"
I have only ever used Apple computers (I wish I had bought stock back when everybody was still dismissing them as never going to last!)
Steve suffered that same horrible disease that took my younger brother, pancreatic cancer.
I send condolences to his family and friends, from one of his millions of admirers.
join the team! Our twins were preemies that came 9 weeks early ( about as early as boys can be born and do okay)
They are now healthy 17 year old high school seniors looking at colleges...(Yikes!)
My fatherly advice? Enjoy the roller coaster ride... and take lots of photos!
died when his flight 175 hit the South Tower. The other friend had just started his new job at Windows on the World when Flight 11 slammed several floors below.
I try not to think about what happened to him and the other souls trapped above the inferno...
buddies and girlfriends stared in disbelief and growing anger as some pasty old white guys on TV were deciding our future, pulling number out of a jar. Deciding whether we got drafted and sent to Vietnam or went on to college or jobs. As birthdays were drawn, friends in the room either whooped with relief or swore in dejection, consoled by sobbing girlfriends...
We all hated Nixon, hated that the network coverage of the deeply divided '68 Democratic Convention in Chicago helped to get him elected. But that was just the end of a terrible year for America.
Many of us had been involved in the civil rights efforts of that decade. When the Kerner Commission report came out we were already setting up community organizations to address institutional racism.
We were further radicalized by the repressive response by police and National Guard in the hands of right wing politicians, like the bayonetting of protesters in New Mexico, and of course, the shootings at Kent State and Jackson State.
Yes, some of us considered ourselves part of the Youth International Party. Some of my friends were ardent Black Panthers (and White Panthers). The media focused a lot on "the Hippies" - far out of proportion to their actual numbers. We always assumed the media found the idea of young people dropping out, getting high and peacefully listening to music as far less threatening than covering other youth who marched, sat-in, draft board attacked, organized voter drives...
Though the media was less tainted back then also...
My generation's youthful innocence was stolen by the specter of nuclear annihilation, burned by white racist resistance to civil rights progress, sent back in body bags from war, and our promising leaders were assassinated...
On the other hand, we DID, however, have THE BEST DAMN SOUNDTRACK those years!
Thanks, OKDem, for looking into that era.
P.S.: Another decent book is by someone I met back then: Todd Gitlin's "The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage"
'public safety' guys since then...
As a little kid of nine or ten I was attacked by a pack of large dogs. This was long before leash laws were more the norm. It was a stretch of road with few houses. I tried to fight them off as they swirled around me biting and barking and they pulled me to the ground. I heard a car coming and jumped up and yelled and waved as it neared. The driver slowed and then drove by me leaving me with the snarling pack. Here is the part I will always remember and that led me to never automatically trust a public safety official: The car was red, and clearly lettered on the door was "Fire Chief" I was stunned, then mad, furious even. Maybe the dogs sensed I was about to explode with rage and they moved on. Later when I got the bites treated my folks called the fire department but no one seemed to know anything.
Big dogs still make my hair stand up and put me on guard.
(Sorry to hear, seabeyond. Hope you pursue charges and get some justice, or at least feel that you did something)
... in this country. Roots of Unitarianism go back to 16th century Transylvania.
In colonial America, the Unitarians left the increasingly stogy and dogmatic Congregational (New England) Protestant churches (the Pilgrims) during the late 18th century and early 19th century.
Though you could go into some UU churches today and easily mistake them to be "Christian"
One bedrock holdover, though, is that most, if not all, are "progressive"
the colonials who gathered at Buttrick farm. Revere, Dawes and Prescott were stopped by a patrol and detained. Prescott knew the local fields well and managed to escape, and complete the mission.
Revere and Dawes' route that night is a block from our house. And our street is named after the good doctor.
The real history is MUCH more interesting then is rhymed in Longfellow's poem...
was so cool till Dad said "Oh, and I told Stevie how my kids wanted to be in his band..." He went on to explain to Stevie that we wanted to be the ones who stomp on his foot to make Stevie make those shouts and high notes. Poor Dad didn't understand we had been KIDDING!!
Love ya Stevie, Happy Birthday!
(thanks for posting this, malaise)
of ours stopped and went into reverse. I saw the white reverse lights come on. I had our toddler twins aboard (and relearning to drive defensively) My honking didn't stop her car, in fact it seemed to be increasing it's speed towards us.
Time seemed to slow down... I put our car into reverse and moved backwards, looking in the rearview mirror to make sure no one was behind me. It was a four lane, usually busy, center of town. As soon as her bumper hit mine I braked to a stop, put it in park and ran to her window. I was assuming there're been some sort of medical mishap. The lady was elderly -well older than me anyway - and seemed confused when I asked why she had backed into me. She said she thought she was going forward. I saw that she was otherwise okay, the cars seemed undamaged, and stood there till she put her car in drive and moved forward. I didn't think to get her plate number or report it.
The second incident just happened the other day. A friend of my sons -now teens- had just gotten his license and offered to drive friends home from a dance party (where there was no alcohol) The kids that got a ride with him later said that he drove the whole way with the parking brake on, and only realized it -despite the warning light- after braked started smoking and they smelled it.
I guess my point is young, or old, misjudgments can happen. We are only human.
Glad you and your son are okay.
then that it would mean being surrounded by girls (other flute players). (The ribbing I'd gotten from other boys for playing a "girly" instrument quickly gave way to envy...)
In high school I was bowled over by the great sounds Jethro Tull (Ian) could add to that pure tone instrument by humming and other tricks. But after trying for the same effects during orchestra rehearsal one time, the conductor yelled at me to stop listening to rubbish music on the radio.
Thank you Ian Anderson for a lifetime of wonderful rubbish music!
And thanks for posting this Bonobo!
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