skip to main skip to sidebar
Summary Judgment
I pass judgment on the inaptly-named "New York State Unified Court System" and other irritating things.
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Idiot's Guide to Getting Out of Jury Duty
Quickie disclaimer. Please read aloud: BY READING THE FOLLOWING, I UNDERSTAND THAT MARSHALL R. ISAACS IS NOT ENCOURAGING ME TO ATTEMPT TO GET OUT OF JURY DUTY. TO THE CONTRARY, MARSHALL R. ISAACS HAS INFORMED ME THAT JURY DUTY IS MY CIVIC RESPONSIBILITY AND HAS ENCOURAGED ME TO GLEEFULLY SIT IN A CROWDED ROOM WITH A BUNCH OF CRANKY PEOPLE, MANY OF WHOM REEK OF BODY ODOR, WHILE MY CO-WORKERS STEAL MY CLIENTS BY TELLING THEM I'VE RUN OFF WITH THEIR LIFE SAVINGS.
If I had a dollar for every person who asked me how to get out of jury duty, I'd have about, well, forty dollars. Not coincidentally, this is what jurors get paid per day to serve jury duty in New York State.I mention this at the outset for the benefit of the staggering 8.1% of you who are unemployed: Do not try to get out of jury duty. Forty bucks is forty bucks and, heck, maybe you'll make some new, unemployed friends to pal around with. Skip the rest of this article and go sign on for a high-profile murder trial.Getting back to those of you still gainfully employed, there are numerous articles on the web explaining how to get out of jury duty. Here's a bunch:WikiHow: How to Get out of Jury Duty Ezine Articles: Get out of Jury Duty - Find the Perfect Excuse
FullDuplex.Org: How to Get out of Jury Duty
AssociatedContent.Com: Valid Excuses to Get out of Jury Duty
Print them out but do not read them.Place them under your dog's arse or use them for your kid's next papier mache project. You don't need these articles to know that you can get out of jury duty if you are a Marine stationed in Iraq or are about to undergo emergency triple bypass.
So how does one get out jury duty? Well, as they say in the porn industry, here's the money-shot:
You have to say, "I cannot be fair and impartial."
Sing along this time!
"I cannot be fair and impartial."
Once again, this time with a little more enthusiasm!
"I cannot be fair and impartial."
Easy, right? It's like when you discovered you could solve Rubik's cube by plucking the plastic colored pieces off and reattaching them in the correct order.
Do not falter when you say ICBFI! You must be strong. Whispering, "um, er, I'm not so sure if I can be fair and impartial" is like crying on your first day in prison. The attorneys will latch on like angry Dobermans. They'll say things to you like, "Well, nobody's sure they could jump out of a burning building but they tend to feel differently once their asses catch fire." Before long, you'll be listening to opening statements.
Of course, ICBFI does not work in a vacuum. You can't just walk into the courthouse like Rainman repeating ICBFI robotically to anyone in your path. First, you need something that you can't be fair and impartial about.
Let's say, for example, you are on the panel of a criminal case and you have a not-so-distant relative who is a traffic cop. You will be asked if you can temporarily set aside what you've heard from your not-so-distant relative, listen to all of the evidence in the case at hand and render a fair and impartial decision.
If, and only if, you feel this way, you should say, "Oh, no, I cannot put what I've heard aside. Nobody just 'gets arrested'. That person had to have done something wrong." Then comes the moment of truth; the moment for you to shine.
All together now!
"I cannot be fair and impartial."
Nicely done.
Shortly thereafter, you will be returned to central jury. Rinse and repeat as needed until your mandatory service is over. (Usually three days).
Congratulations. You have gotten yourself out of jury duty.
http://theununifiedcourtsystem.blogspot.com/2009/03/idiots-guide-to-getting-out-of-jury.html
Monday, May 3, 2010
I dream before i take the stand
This story got me so mad! "He: a man, probably a lawyer" drove me crazy. He asked so many question and half the time it was the same question, "She: a petite woman" should have not answered anymore more question. I would of honestly punching that guy in the face. I would say don't asking me the same question and get moving! But thats just me =]
where are you going, where have you been?
Arnold- Friend was first of all a total creep. Connie might think she is mature, but seriously what the hell is her problem? when she knew she was in trouble she never should of told him she was going to call the police. If i was in her situation i would call the police right away. Being a "young women" home ALONE no matter how scared i was i would pick up that phone. That's the difference of trying to be mature, or act mature you can't make stupid mistakes. Honestly you should not have to think to pick up the phone and call if your in danger.
This story i thought was sad just because it shows the reality that everyone always wants to look like someone else. And how Carla and Bethany switched "souls" or bodies at the end was a true wake up call. FOr even myself, I always give into the media, for example in the U.S if you have curves or hips and healthy, people stare and comment you need to lose weight. But if your a twig your like this goddess. You need to look a certain way to be beautiful through the medias eyes, But in other villages and countries they envy woman who have curves because it shows a sign of wealth, and you could carry a child. So what i say now is "I love my curves, so envy me" =]
Tape
I thought it would be interesting to research this author Jose Rivera.
Jose Rivera was born in Lima, Peru, in 1911. After studying medicine at the University of San Marcos he moved to the United States. He resumed his studies at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. He earned his doctoral degree from Georgetown University in 1939.
In 1942 Rivera joined the United States Army and served as first lieutenant in the medical corps. He was stationed at Walter Reed Army Hospital and later assigned to Halloran General Army Hospital in New York. In 1944 he was promoted to captain and went on a series of assignments in Italy and France and at the 198th General Army Hospital in Berlin.
During the Korean War he served in the Medical Field Unit and was promoted to the rank of major. After the war, he was chief of laboratory service and pathology at the U.S. Army Hospital in Tokyo. In 1958, he was assigned to the Reserve Training Center in Washington.
Rivera sat on the National Institute of Health Board of Directors. A fellow director in the early 1960s was Alton Ochsner. In 1963 Rivera was in New Orleans handing out research grants from NIH to the Tulane Medical School.
In April, 1963, Adele Edisen met Rivera at a biomedical scientific conference in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The conference had been organized by the Federation of American Societies of Experimental Biology. Rivera told Edisen that he been on the faculty of the biochemistry department at Loyola University in New Orleans, and that he was now living in Washington. Edisen was planning to visit Washington and so Rivera suggested she she telephone him when she arrived in the city.
Adele Edisen arrived in Washington on 22nd April, 1963. She telephoned Rivera and had dinner with him at Blackie's House of Beef restaurant. During the meal Rivera asked Adele if she knew Lee Harvey Oswald. He also talked about the Carousel Club in Dallas.
The following evening Rivera gave Adele Edisen a tour of Washington. When they passed the White House he asked Edisen, "I wonder what Jackie will do when her husband dies?" After Adele replied "What!", Rivera said, "Oh, oh, I meant the baby. She might lose the baby."
During the tour Rivera made several comments about John F. Kennedy. Adele later reported: "He asked me if I saw Caroline on her pony Macaroni, and all kinds of crazy nonsense, and I was beginning to think I was with an absolute madman.... Rivera's part of the conversation at times was difficult to follow, but many of his statements, such as the reference to 'Jackie,' seemed deliberately placed. When he spoke of President Kennedy, Rivera was extremely critical of Kennedy's position on civil rights. Rivera made many disparaging remarks about black people and the civil rights movement."
Later that evening Rivera asked Adele Edisen to carry out a couple of tasks when she arrived home in New Orleans. This included contacting Winston DeMonsabert, a member of the faculty at Loyola University. He then asked her to call Lee Harvey Oswald at 899-4244. "Write down this name: Lee Harvey Oswald. Tell him to kill the chief." Rivera then said, "No, no, don't write that down. You will remember it when you get to New Orleans. We're just playing a little joke on him."
Adele phoned this number in early May and was told by the man who answered that there was no one there by the name of Oswald. Later, when she called again, the same man answered, saying that Oswald had just arrived but was not there at the time. Instead she spoke to Marina Oswald and asked her if she might call again in a few days to speak with her husband when he was at home. Marina only spoke Russian to Adele but seemed to understand her request because she replied, "Da". The next time she phoned she got Oswald, but he denied knowing Jose Rivera. Adele asked Oswald for the address where the telephone he was speaking on was located. Oswald gave her an address on Magazine Street. She did not give Oswald Rivera's message.
Adele was concerned that Rivera might be involved in a plot against President John F. Kennedy. She decided to contact the Secret Service in New Orleans and spoke to Special Agent Rice. According to Adele, "After giving my name, address and telephone number to him, I told him I had met a man in Washington in April who said some strange things about the President which I thought they should know. It was my intention to go there and tell them about Rivera and his statements, but I began to think they might not believe me, so I called back and cancelled. Agent Rice told me they would be there any time I would care to come in."
Two days after the assassination Adele Edisen arranged a meeting with Secret Service Agent John Rice. Also at the meeting was Orrin Bartlett, Liaison Special Agent of the FBI: "Mr. Rice was seated at his desk, and I was seated to his right, and the FBI agent remained standing most of the time. I believe he may have taped it because every time Mr. Rice got up from his desk, there was a partition over there, for example, and there was a phone there which they used even though there was a phone on the desk, which I didn't understand, but apparently there was some reason for that. So every time Mr. Rice got up to answer the phone or to use the phone, I noticed his hand would do this, and I would either hear a whirring, a mechanical sound like a tape recorder or something. It may have been audiotaped."
Adele told them the story of how she met Rivera in Atlantic City and Washington in April. She also supplied the agents with Rivera's office and home telephone numbers. Edisen later claimed that: "Agent Rice asked me to call them if I remembered anything else, and requested that I not tell anyone I had been there to speak with them. I understood this to be for my own protection as well as for their investigation. Both agents thanked me for speaking with them."
Adele Edisen contacted Rice a few days later and he told her, "Don't worry. That man can't hurt you." Edisen assumed that Rivera had been arrested and that she would be called as a witness before the Warren Commission. "When the Warren Report was published, I was mystified and dismayed by the conclusion that Oswald acted alone, and that Jack Ruby acted alone, for my experiences told me otherwise."
After retiring from the United States Army in 1965 Rivera started a second career as a medical research analyst at the Institute of Neurological Diseases and Blindness.
Jose Rivera died of pancreatic cancer in Naval Medical Center in Bethesda on 16th August, 1989.
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/JFKrivera.htm
Jose Rivera was born in Lima, Peru, in 1911. After studying medicine at the University of San Marcos he moved to the United States. He resumed his studies at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. He earned his doctoral degree from Georgetown University in 1939.
In 1942 Rivera joined the United States Army and served as first lieutenant in the medical corps. He was stationed at Walter Reed Army Hospital and later assigned to Halloran General Army Hospital in New York. In 1944 he was promoted to captain and went on a series of assignments in Italy and France and at the 198th General Army Hospital in Berlin.
During the Korean War he served in the Medical Field Unit and was promoted to the rank of major. After the war, he was chief of laboratory service and pathology at the U.S. Army Hospital in Tokyo. In 1958, he was assigned to the Reserve Training Center in Washington.
Rivera sat on the National Institute of Health Board of Directors. A fellow director in the early 1960s was Alton Ochsner. In 1963 Rivera was in New Orleans handing out research grants from NIH to the Tulane Medical School.
In April, 1963, Adele Edisen met Rivera at a biomedical scientific conference in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The conference had been organized by the Federation of American Societies of Experimental Biology. Rivera told Edisen that he been on the faculty of the biochemistry department at Loyola University in New Orleans, and that he was now living in Washington. Edisen was planning to visit Washington and so Rivera suggested she she telephone him when she arrived in the city.
Adele Edisen arrived in Washington on 22nd April, 1963. She telephoned Rivera and had dinner with him at Blackie's House of Beef restaurant. During the meal Rivera asked Adele if she knew Lee Harvey Oswald. He also talked about the Carousel Club in Dallas.
The following evening Rivera gave Adele Edisen a tour of Washington. When they passed the White House he asked Edisen, "I wonder what Jackie will do when her husband dies?" After Adele replied "What!", Rivera said, "Oh, oh, I meant the baby. She might lose the baby."
During the tour Rivera made several comments about John F. Kennedy. Adele later reported: "He asked me if I saw Caroline on her pony Macaroni, and all kinds of crazy nonsense, and I was beginning to think I was with an absolute madman.... Rivera's part of the conversation at times was difficult to follow, but many of his statements, such as the reference to 'Jackie,' seemed deliberately placed. When he spoke of President Kennedy, Rivera was extremely critical of Kennedy's position on civil rights. Rivera made many disparaging remarks about black people and the civil rights movement."
Later that evening Rivera asked Adele Edisen to carry out a couple of tasks when she arrived home in New Orleans. This included contacting Winston DeMonsabert, a member of the faculty at Loyola University. He then asked her to call Lee Harvey Oswald at 899-4244. "Write down this name: Lee Harvey Oswald. Tell him to kill the chief." Rivera then said, "No, no, don't write that down. You will remember it when you get to New Orleans. We're just playing a little joke on him."
Adele phoned this number in early May and was told by the man who answered that there was no one there by the name of Oswald. Later, when she called again, the same man answered, saying that Oswald had just arrived but was not there at the time. Instead she spoke to Marina Oswald and asked her if she might call again in a few days to speak with her husband when he was at home. Marina only spoke Russian to Adele but seemed to understand her request because she replied, "Da". The next time she phoned she got Oswald, but he denied knowing Jose Rivera. Adele asked Oswald for the address where the telephone he was speaking on was located. Oswald gave her an address on Magazine Street. She did not give Oswald Rivera's message.
Adele was concerned that Rivera might be involved in a plot against President John F. Kennedy. She decided to contact the Secret Service in New Orleans and spoke to Special Agent Rice. According to Adele, "After giving my name, address and telephone number to him, I told him I had met a man in Washington in April who said some strange things about the President which I thought they should know. It was my intention to go there and tell them about Rivera and his statements, but I began to think they might not believe me, so I called back and cancelled. Agent Rice told me they would be there any time I would care to come in."
Two days after the assassination Adele Edisen arranged a meeting with Secret Service Agent John Rice. Also at the meeting was Orrin Bartlett, Liaison Special Agent of the FBI: "Mr. Rice was seated at his desk, and I was seated to his right, and the FBI agent remained standing most of the time. I believe he may have taped it because every time Mr. Rice got up from his desk, there was a partition over there, for example, and there was a phone there which they used even though there was a phone on the desk, which I didn't understand, but apparently there was some reason for that. So every time Mr. Rice got up to answer the phone or to use the phone, I noticed his hand would do this, and I would either hear a whirring, a mechanical sound like a tape recorder or something. It may have been audiotaped."
Adele told them the story of how she met Rivera in Atlantic City and Washington in April. She also supplied the agents with Rivera's office and home telephone numbers. Edisen later claimed that: "Agent Rice asked me to call them if I remembered anything else, and requested that I not tell anyone I had been there to speak with them. I understood this to be for my own protection as well as for their investigation. Both agents thanked me for speaking with them."
Adele Edisen contacted Rice a few days later and he told her, "Don't worry. That man can't hurt you." Edisen assumed that Rivera had been arrested and that she would be called as a witness before the Warren Commission. "When the Warren Report was published, I was mystified and dismayed by the conclusion that Oswald acted alone, and that Jack Ruby acted alone, for my experiences told me otherwise."
After retiring from the United States Army in 1965 Rivera started a second career as a medical research analyst at the Institute of Neurological Diseases and Blindness.
Jose Rivera died of pancreatic cancer in Naval Medical Center in Bethesda on 16th August, 1989.
http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/JFKrivera.htm
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Market America
I teach people how to get PAID to shop, on what there already buying! If you want more information please contact me.
www.marketamerica.com/troyingemi
I also specialize in make-up/ skincare and give FREE makeovers!!
www.marketamerica.com/troyingemi
I also specialize in make-up/ skincare and give FREE makeovers!!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Big Black Good Man
I really wanted to learn more about the author Richard Wright because I liked the story "Big Black Good Man." It was pretty funny to me. I shows that he tried to create a mirror image to the United States.
Richard Nathan Wright was born September 4, 1908 in Roxie, Mississippi (not far from Nachez), the son of Nathan Wright, an illiterate sharecropper, and Ella Wilson Wright, a schoolteacher, and the grandson of slaves. In 1911 Ella takes Wright and barely one year old brother Leon Alan to Natchez to live with her family and the father later joins them and finds work in a sawmill. In 1913, the four Wrights moved to Memphis, Tennessee. But within a year, Nathan deserts them for another woman and Ella works as a cook to support the family.
In September 1915, Richard entered school at Howe Institute. However, Ella fell ill early in 1916 and Richard's father Nathan's mother came for a while to care for the family. When she left, Richard and Alan had to live for a brief time in an orphange until Ella could have them live with her parents in Jackson, Mississippi. But again, Richard, Alan, and Ella were moved, this time with Ella's sister Maggieand her husband Silas Hoskins in Elaine, Arkansas. But whites murdered Hoskins, and the family ran to West Helena, Arkansas, and then to Jackson, Mississippi. After a few months, they return to West Helena, where mother and aunt cook and clean for whites. Soon, Aunt Maggie goes north to Detroit with her new lover.
Wright entered school in the fall of 1918, but was forced to leave afer a few months because his mother's poor health forces him to earn money to support the family. Unable to pay their rent, the family moved and Wright gathers excess coal next to the railroad tracks in order to heat the home. When his mother suffers a paralyzing stroke, they return with Ella's Mother to Jackson, and Aunt Maggie takes Leon Alan to Detroit with her.
At the age of 13, Richard entered the fifth grade in Jackson, and he was soon placed in sixth grade. In addition, he delivers newspapers and works briefly with a traveling insurance salesman. The next year, he entered the seventh grade and his grandfather died. He managed to earn enough to buy textbooks, food, and clothes by running errands for whites. In the meantime, Richard read pulp novels, magazines, and anything he can get his hands on. During the winter, he writes his first short story, "The Voodoo of Hell's Half-Acre," which is published in the spring of 1924 in the Jackson Southern Register. In May 1925, Wright graduates valedictorian of his ninth grade. He begins high school, but as Leon Alan has returned from Detroit, quits after only a few weeks so he can earn money. At ties he worked two or even three jobs.
In 1927, Richard read H. L. Mencken, and from Mencken, Wright learned about and read Theodore Dreiser, Sinclair Lewis, Sherwood Anderson, Frank Harris, and others. Wright and Aunt Maggie moved to Chicago, while his mother and brother returned to Jackson, where Wright worked as a dishwasher and delivery boy until finding temporary employment with the postal service in Chicago. His mother and brother moved in with Wright and Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Cleopatra joins them. He makes friends, both black and white, in the post office, writes regularly, and attends meetings of black literary groups.
Following the stock market crash, Wright loses his postal job, but began work, in 1930, on a novel, "Cesspool," (published posthumously in 1970's as Lawd Today!) that reflects his experience in the post office. In 1931 Wright publishes a short story, "Superstition," in Abbott's Monthly Magazine, a black journal that fails before Wright collects any money from them. However, he did get an opportunity to write through the Federal Writers' Project. He became a member of the Communist Party and published poetry and short stories in such magazines as Left Front, Anvil, and New Masses.
He went to New York for the American Writers' Congress, where he speaks on "The Isolation of the Negro Writer." He publishes a poem about lynching in Partisan Review and writes an article for New Masses entitled "Joe Louis Uncovers Dynamite." After his return, he is hired by the Federal Writers' Project to research the history of Illinois and of the Negro in Chicago. His short story "Big Boy Leaves Home" (1936) appears in The New Caravan anthology, where it attracts mainstream critical attention.
In 1937 Richard Wright went to New York City, where he became Harlem editor of the Communist paper, Daily Worker. He helps to launch the magazine New Challenge , and publishes "The Ethics of Living Jim Crow" in American Stuff: WPA Writers' Anthology. "Blueprint for Negro Writing" appears in the first and only issue of New Challenge. A second novel manuscript, "Tarbaby's Dawn," makes the rounds with publishers and receives constant rejection; it is never published, but "Fire and Cloud" wins first prize in a Story Magazine contest.
The next year, Uncle Tom's Children is published in March to wide acclaim. "Bright and Morning Star" appears in New Masses, and Wright soon joins that magazine's editorial board. He works on a new novel and asks Margaret Walker to send him newspaper clippings from the Robert Nixon case in Chicago. In October, he finishes the first draft of this novel, which he calls Native Son. "Fire and Cloud" wins the O. Henry Memorial Award. By February 1939 he has a completed second draft of Native Son. After winning a Guggenheim Fellowship, Wright resigns from the Federal Writers' Project. In June, he finishes Native Son and marries Dhima Rose Meadman, a white modern-dance teacher. Ralph Ellison is his best man. He begins work on a new novel, "Little Sister," which is never published.
Native Son is published 1940 in March and the Book-of-the-Month Club offers it as a main selection. Though the book is banned in Birmingham, Alabama, libraries, Wright becomes internatinally famous. Unhappy with the stage adaptation of Native Son that Paul Green has been working on, Wright and John Houseman revise it with Orson Welles in mind as director. The book is a best-seller and is staged successfully as a play on Broadway (1941) by Orson Welles.
Wright expresses his opposition to the war first by signing onto an anti-war appeal by the League of American Writers, and second by publishing "Not My People's War." Both items appear in New Masses in 1941. He criticizes Roosevelt's racial policies in a 27 June speech to the NAACP, although communist party pressure forces him to lessen his critique. Wright gets involved in music: "Note on Jim Crow Blues" prefaces blues singer Josh White's Southern Exposure album and Paul Robeson, accompanied by the Count Basie orchestra, records Wright's blues song, "King Joe." Twelve Million Black Voices: A Folk History of the Negro in the United States published in October. Wright becomes interested in psychoanalysis as a result of his reading Fredric Wertham's Dark Legend. Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Wright signs a petition, which appears in New Masses, supporting America's entry into the war.
Wright is not drafted in 1942 because he is his family's sole support, but he unsuccessfully tries to secure a special commission in the psychological warfare or propoganda services of the army. He publishes "The Man Who Lived Underground" in Accent and "What You Don't Know Won't Hurt You" in Harper's Magazine. He breaks quietly with the Communist party. Wright begins American Hunger. In 1943 the FBI begins interviewing Wright's associates and neighbors, presumably to determine if 12 Million Black Voices constitutes sedition, but while that inquiry concludes during 1943, the FBI's investigations continue until Wright's death.
Book-of-the-Month Club tells Harper that it only wants the first section of American Hunger, which describes Wright's southern experience. Wright agrees to this demand and titles the new volume Black Boy. The second section is not published until 1977 (as American Hunger). "I Tried to Be a Communist" appears in the Atlantic Monthly, causing New Masses and Daily Worker to denounce and disown Wright. Black Boy: A Record of Childhood and Youth in March 1945. It remains on the bestseller list from 29 April until 6 June. Theodore Bilbo, a senator from Mississippi, labels the book obscene. That year Wright also helped James Baldwin win a fellowship.
In 1947, a Hollywood producer offers to film Native Son, but wants to change Bigger Thomas to a white man; Wright refuses. Wright's works are being translated into several European languages. Wright decides to move the family to Europe permanently. But in reaction to the continued racism he encountered in America, Wright decided to move to France as a permanent expatriate. While in France, Wright took a growing interest in anti-colonial movements and also travelled extensively. Wright himself played Bigger in a motion-picture version of Native Son made in Argentina in 1951 .
Late in 1952, Wright begins working on a novel about a white psychopathic murderer. The Outsider (1953), was acclaimed as the first American existential novel. Three later novels were not well-received. Among his polemical writings of that period was White Man, Listen! (1957), which was originally a series of lectures given in Europe.
Wright had considerable company as an exile in Paris. James Baldwin, Ralph Ellison, and Chester Himes were just the most notable of the presences. Meetings amongst the individuals are lengendary.
In February 1957, Pagan Spain appears. It fails to sell well, despite favorable reviews. In October, Doubleday publishes a collection of Wright's lectures entitled White Man, Listen!. 1958 Wright finishes The Long Dream, his novel about Mississippi, and begins to work on its sequel, "Island of Hallucinations," which is set in France. When The Long Dream is published by Doubleday in October, it receives poor and sometimes hostile reviews, and it does not sell well.
On 14 January, 1959 , Wright's mother dies. In February, Wright sends Reynolds the manuscript for "Island of Hallucinations." He meets with Martin Luther King, Jr., who is on his way to India. Wright's new editor, Timothy Seldes, asks for substantial revisions on "Island of Hallucinations." Wright shelves the project and never completes it. In the spring, his play Daddy Goodness opens in Paris. Best American Stories of 1958 includes Wright's "Big Black Good Man."
A stage adaptation of The Long Dream opens on Broadway February 17, 1960 to poor reviews and closes within a week. Of his completed Haiku, Wright prepares 811 for publication. He begins a new novel, "A Father's Law," during the summer, but on returning to Paris in September, he falls ill. He prepares Eight Men, a collection of short stories, which World Publishers will publish in 1961. November 28, 1960, Wright dies. The cause of death is listed as heart attack. On the third of December, Wright is cremated along with a copy of Black Boy. His ashes remain at the Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris. The autobiographical American Hunger, which narrates Wright's experiences after moving to the North, was published posthumously in 1977.
Some of the more candid passages dealing with race, sex, and politics in Wright's books had been cut or omitted before original publication. Unexpurgated versions of Native Son, Black Boy, and his other works were published in 1991, however.
http://www.math.buffalo.edu/~sww/wright/wright_bio.html
Richard Nathan Wright was born September 4, 1908 in Roxie, Mississippi (not far from Nachez), the son of Nathan Wright, an illiterate sharecropper, and Ella Wilson Wright, a schoolteacher, and the grandson of slaves. In 1911 Ella takes Wright and barely one year old brother Leon Alan to Natchez to live with her family and the father later joins them and finds work in a sawmill. In 1913, the four Wrights moved to Memphis, Tennessee. But within a year, Nathan deserts them for another woman and Ella works as a cook to support the family.
In September 1915, Richard entered school at Howe Institute. However, Ella fell ill early in 1916 and Richard's father Nathan's mother came for a while to care for the family. When she left, Richard and Alan had to live for a brief time in an orphange until Ella could have them live with her parents in Jackson, Mississippi. But again, Richard, Alan, and Ella were moved, this time with Ella's sister Maggieand her husband Silas Hoskins in Elaine, Arkansas. But whites murdered Hoskins, and the family ran to West Helena, Arkansas, and then to Jackson, Mississippi. After a few months, they return to West Helena, where mother and aunt cook and clean for whites. Soon, Aunt Maggie goes north to Detroit with her new lover.
Wright entered school in the fall of 1918, but was forced to leave afer a few months because his mother's poor health forces him to earn money to support the family. Unable to pay their rent, the family moved and Wright gathers excess coal next to the railroad tracks in order to heat the home. When his mother suffers a paralyzing stroke, they return with Ella's Mother to Jackson, and Aunt Maggie takes Leon Alan to Detroit with her.
At the age of 13, Richard entered the fifth grade in Jackson, and he was soon placed in sixth grade. In addition, he delivers newspapers and works briefly with a traveling insurance salesman. The next year, he entered the seventh grade and his grandfather died. He managed to earn enough to buy textbooks, food, and clothes by running errands for whites. In the meantime, Richard read pulp novels, magazines, and anything he can get his hands on. During the winter, he writes his first short story, "The Voodoo of Hell's Half-Acre," which is published in the spring of 1924 in the Jackson Southern Register. In May 1925, Wright graduates valedictorian of his ninth grade. He begins high school, but as Leon Alan has returned from Detroit, quits after only a few weeks so he can earn money. At ties he worked two or even three jobs.
In 1927, Richard read H. L. Mencken, and from Mencken, Wright learned about and read Theodore Dreiser, Sinclair Lewis, Sherwood Anderson, Frank Harris, and others. Wright and Aunt Maggie moved to Chicago, while his mother and brother returned to Jackson, where Wright worked as a dishwasher and delivery boy until finding temporary employment with the postal service in Chicago. His mother and brother moved in with Wright and Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Cleopatra joins them. He makes friends, both black and white, in the post office, writes regularly, and attends meetings of black literary groups.
Following the stock market crash, Wright loses his postal job, but began work, in 1930, on a novel, "Cesspool," (published posthumously in 1970's as Lawd Today!) that reflects his experience in the post office. In 1931 Wright publishes a short story, "Superstition," in Abbott's Monthly Magazine, a black journal that fails before Wright collects any money from them. However, he did get an opportunity to write through the Federal Writers' Project. He became a member of the Communist Party and published poetry and short stories in such magazines as Left Front, Anvil, and New Masses.
He went to New York for the American Writers' Congress, where he speaks on "The Isolation of the Negro Writer." He publishes a poem about lynching in Partisan Review and writes an article for New Masses entitled "Joe Louis Uncovers Dynamite." After his return, he is hired by the Federal Writers' Project to research the history of Illinois and of the Negro in Chicago. His short story "Big Boy Leaves Home" (1936) appears in The New Caravan anthology, where it attracts mainstream critical attention.
In 1937 Richard Wright went to New York City, where he became Harlem editor of the Communist paper, Daily Worker. He helps to launch the magazine New Challenge , and publishes "The Ethics of Living Jim Crow" in American Stuff: WPA Writers' Anthology. "Blueprint for Negro Writing" appears in the first and only issue of New Challenge. A second novel manuscript, "Tarbaby's Dawn," makes the rounds with publishers and receives constant rejection; it is never published, but "Fire and Cloud" wins first prize in a Story Magazine contest.
The next year, Uncle Tom's Children is published in March to wide acclaim. "Bright and Morning Star" appears in New Masses, and Wright soon joins that magazine's editorial board. He works on a new novel and asks Margaret Walker to send him newspaper clippings from the Robert Nixon case in Chicago. In October, he finishes the first draft of this novel, which he calls Native Son. "Fire and Cloud" wins the O. Henry Memorial Award. By February 1939 he has a completed second draft of Native Son. After winning a Guggenheim Fellowship, Wright resigns from the Federal Writers' Project. In June, he finishes Native Son and marries Dhima Rose Meadman, a white modern-dance teacher. Ralph Ellison is his best man. He begins work on a new novel, "Little Sister," which is never published.
Native Son is published 1940 in March and the Book-of-the-Month Club offers it as a main selection. Though the book is banned in Birmingham, Alabama, libraries, Wright becomes internatinally famous. Unhappy with the stage adaptation of Native Son that Paul Green has been working on, Wright and John Houseman revise it with Orson Welles in mind as director. The book is a best-seller and is staged successfully as a play on Broadway (1941) by Orson Welles.
Wright expresses his opposition to the war first by signing onto an anti-war appeal by the League of American Writers, and second by publishing "Not My People's War." Both items appear in New Masses in 1941. He criticizes Roosevelt's racial policies in a 27 June speech to the NAACP, although communist party pressure forces him to lessen his critique. Wright gets involved in music: "Note on Jim Crow Blues" prefaces blues singer Josh White's Southern Exposure album and Paul Robeson, accompanied by the Count Basie orchestra, records Wright's blues song, "King Joe." Twelve Million Black Voices: A Folk History of the Negro in the United States published in October. Wright becomes interested in psychoanalysis as a result of his reading Fredric Wertham's Dark Legend. Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Wright signs a petition, which appears in New Masses, supporting America's entry into the war.
Wright is not drafted in 1942 because he is his family's sole support, but he unsuccessfully tries to secure a special commission in the psychological warfare or propoganda services of the army. He publishes "The Man Who Lived Underground" in Accent and "What You Don't Know Won't Hurt You" in Harper's Magazine. He breaks quietly with the Communist party. Wright begins American Hunger. In 1943 the FBI begins interviewing Wright's associates and neighbors, presumably to determine if 12 Million Black Voices constitutes sedition, but while that inquiry concludes during 1943, the FBI's investigations continue until Wright's death.
Book-of-the-Month Club tells Harper that it only wants the first section of American Hunger, which describes Wright's southern experience. Wright agrees to this demand and titles the new volume Black Boy. The second section is not published until 1977 (as American Hunger). "I Tried to Be a Communist" appears in the Atlantic Monthly, causing New Masses and Daily Worker to denounce and disown Wright. Black Boy: A Record of Childhood and Youth in March 1945. It remains on the bestseller list from 29 April until 6 June. Theodore Bilbo, a senator from Mississippi, labels the book obscene. That year Wright also helped James Baldwin win a fellowship.
In 1947, a Hollywood producer offers to film Native Son, but wants to change Bigger Thomas to a white man; Wright refuses. Wright's works are being translated into several European languages. Wright decides to move the family to Europe permanently. But in reaction to the continued racism he encountered in America, Wright decided to move to France as a permanent expatriate. While in France, Wright took a growing interest in anti-colonial movements and also travelled extensively. Wright himself played Bigger in a motion-picture version of Native Son made in Argentina in 1951 .
Late in 1952, Wright begins working on a novel about a white psychopathic murderer. The Outsider (1953), was acclaimed as the first American existential novel. Three later novels were not well-received. Among his polemical writings of that period was White Man, Listen! (1957), which was originally a series of lectures given in Europe.
Wright had considerable company as an exile in Paris. James Baldwin, Ralph Ellison, and Chester Himes were just the most notable of the presences. Meetings amongst the individuals are lengendary.
In February 1957, Pagan Spain appears. It fails to sell well, despite favorable reviews. In October, Doubleday publishes a collection of Wright's lectures entitled White Man, Listen!. 1958 Wright finishes The Long Dream, his novel about Mississippi, and begins to work on its sequel, "Island of Hallucinations," which is set in France. When The Long Dream is published by Doubleday in October, it receives poor and sometimes hostile reviews, and it does not sell well.
On 14 January, 1959 , Wright's mother dies. In February, Wright sends Reynolds the manuscript for "Island of Hallucinations." He meets with Martin Luther King, Jr., who is on his way to India. Wright's new editor, Timothy Seldes, asks for substantial revisions on "Island of Hallucinations." Wright shelves the project and never completes it. In the spring, his play Daddy Goodness opens in Paris. Best American Stories of 1958 includes Wright's "Big Black Good Man."
A stage adaptation of The Long Dream opens on Broadway February 17, 1960 to poor reviews and closes within a week. Of his completed Haiku, Wright prepares 811 for publication. He begins a new novel, "A Father's Law," during the summer, but on returning to Paris in September, he falls ill. He prepares Eight Men, a collection of short stories, which World Publishers will publish in 1961. November 28, 1960, Wright dies. The cause of death is listed as heart attack. On the third of December, Wright is cremated along with a copy of Black Boy. His ashes remain at the Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris. The autobiographical American Hunger, which narrates Wright's experiences after moving to the North, was published posthumously in 1977.
Some of the more candid passages dealing with race, sex, and politics in Wright's books had been cut or omitted before original publication. Unexpurgated versions of Native Son, Black Boy, and his other works were published in 1991, however.
http://www.math.buffalo.edu/~sww/wright/wright_bio.html
Friday, March 12, 2010
Sunday in the Park
http://itstrulyrandom.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/sandbox.jpgThe story felt like typical parents at the park. Some parents don't like to discipline their children when they are doing wrong. I felt like Joe's father was completely wrong, All's he wanted to do was start a fight in front of the children, that first of all is not a good role model. Although it was a public sandbox their is no right to throw sand. Your child should be told what is wrong and its also wrong to throw sand at each other. i know boys will be boys, but their's a fine line between playing and taken advantage and getting out of hand.
Sunday in the Park- anwer questions 1-6
1. Morton and his wife took their son Larry to the park on a Sunday afternoon. Larry was kindly playing in the sandbox when another kid his age named Joe started to throw sand at Larry. Larry’s mother told the little boy not the throw sand, Joe didn’t listen and did it again. Once the mother said something again, Joe’s father said “you go right ahead, Joe…throw all you want. This is a public sandbox.” Both men stood up, and Morton thought it wasn’t worth the fight and dragged Larry and wife home. Morton wife was not too pleased!
2. I think the wife in the story isn’t named because I feel as if this fight was between two men. She is just a woman and she can’t physically fight with another man.
3. I would say that this is the “typical” parents because “like father like son” the parents should be the role models and most parents like to be superior to the rest. They don’t like other parents disciplining their children.
4. The story’s tone changes when Joe’s father is rude and allows his son to misbehave, and doesn’t discipline him for doing the wrong thing. In his eyes it’s a public sandbox and that okay to behave badly.
5. The sandbox incident is similar to many other life situations because it shows that some people try to walk all over others. A lot of people are impolite and like to start a fight or an argument for what? Absolutely nothing at all, it’s just all a show. And to prove who’s boss or superior.
6. The meaning of the last paragraph is Morton’s wife gets to his head. Morton gets very angry and wants to take it out on Larry. The wife stops him, and demonstrates she should have taken it out on that awful man at the park. Morton finally snaps but is taken it out on the wrong person! That’s what I believe the last part of the store meant.
2. I think the wife in the story isn’t named because I feel as if this fight was between two men. She is just a woman and she can’t physically fight with another man.
3. I would say that this is the “typical” parents because “like father like son” the parents should be the role models and most parents like to be superior to the rest. They don’t like other parents disciplining their children.
4. The story’s tone changes when Joe’s father is rude and allows his son to misbehave, and doesn’t discipline him for doing the wrong thing. In his eyes it’s a public sandbox and that okay to behave badly.
5. The sandbox incident is similar to many other life situations because it shows that some people try to walk all over others. A lot of people are impolite and like to start a fight or an argument for what? Absolutely nothing at all, it’s just all a show. And to prove who’s boss or superior.
6. The meaning of the last paragraph is Morton’s wife gets to his head. Morton gets very angry and wants to take it out on Larry. The wife stops him, and demonstrates she should have taken it out on that awful man at the park. Morton finally snaps but is taken it out on the wrong person! That’s what I believe the last part of the store meant.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Sentence List
- "He comes over and says, Girls, this isn't the beach." (A&P)
- "It is the Mother who gives the gifts; and it is she who takes away the gift." (Under the Banyan tree)
- "let's groove tonight" (Mix Tape)
- "Same procedures of last year Ms. soffie? Same procedures every year Georgie." (Dinner for One)
- "When the doctors came they said she had died of heart Disease-of joy that kills" (Story of an Hour)
- "Americans would be far more likely to step forward if only a few people were suffering or a single person were in pain." (The Problem with Human Compassion)
- "crying Andy, Andy but that wasn't her name, she would no longer be called that." (Doe Season
- "You're the Misfit! she said, I recognized you at once!" (A Good Man is Hard to Find)
- "From now on you've got to live in a new world and face a few realities for a change. Buck up. he said, It won't kill you." (Everything that Rises Must Converge)
- "the only possible outcome...would have been-what?my glasses broken, perhaps a tooth or two replaced, a couple of days' work missed- and for what? for justice? for truth?" (Sunday in the Park)
- “then suddenly the black giant withdrew his fingers from Olaf’s neck and stepped back a pace, still grinning.” (Big Black Good Man)
- “Gonna get you, baby,” (Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been)
- “I’m afraid of those lights…” (Tape)
- “I was walking through the Park.” (I Dream Before I Take the Stand)
- “There is a genie in this thingamajig” (Beauty)
- “Yeah as soon as they call roll, I show my plane ticket…and I’m out of here” (Nine Ten)
- “I say you are the murderer you seek” (Oedipus The King)
Everything that rises must converge
Everything That Rises Must Converge Summary
Set in the South in the early 1960s, ‘‘Everything That Rises Must Converge’’ opens with the protagonist, a young writer named Julian, reflecting on the reasons that he must accompany his mother to her weekly weight-loss meeting. She goes to the meetings because she has high blood pressure, but considers them one of her ‘‘few pleasures.’’
However, Julian’s mother has refused to ride the bus alone since the bus system became racially integrated. Julian dreads the trips, but feels obligated to do as she wishes.
On the evening when the story takes place, Julian’s mother is indecisive about whether to wear a garish new hat. She eventually decides to wear it, commenting that the hat was worth the extra money because others won’t have the same one.
As they walk to the bus stop, Julian’s mother reviews her family legacy, which has given her a strong self-identity. She implies that it does not matter that she is poor because she comes from a well-known and once prosperous family of the pre-Civil War South.
Mentioning her family’s former plantation, Julian’s mother talks about slavery. Julian remembers the mansion, which he regards with secret longing, while his mother continues to reminisce about her nurse, an ‘‘old... » Complete Everything That Rises Must Converge Summary
http://www.enotes.com/everything-rises
This is the second story that i have read my Flannery O'Connor and I can really feel the racism that she grew up with. I thought this story was very Ironic, but humorous. I felt really bad at the end of the story, but if she just listen to her son, her blood pressure wouldn't have rose to much!
Set in the South in the early 1960s, ‘‘Everything That Rises Must Converge’’ opens with the protagonist, a young writer named Julian, reflecting on the reasons that he must accompany his mother to her weekly weight-loss meeting. She goes to the meetings because she has high blood pressure, but considers them one of her ‘‘few pleasures.’’
However, Julian’s mother has refused to ride the bus alone since the bus system became racially integrated. Julian dreads the trips, but feels obligated to do as she wishes.
On the evening when the story takes place, Julian’s mother is indecisive about whether to wear a garish new hat. She eventually decides to wear it, commenting that the hat was worth the extra money because others won’t have the same one.
As they walk to the bus stop, Julian’s mother reviews her family legacy, which has given her a strong self-identity. She implies that it does not matter that she is poor because she comes from a well-known and once prosperous family of the pre-Civil War South.
Mentioning her family’s former plantation, Julian’s mother talks about slavery. Julian remembers the mansion, which he regards with secret longing, while his mother continues to reminisce about her nurse, an ‘‘old... » Complete Everything That Rises Must Converge Summary
http://www.enotes.com/everything-rises
This is the second story that i have read my Flannery O'Connor and I can really feel the racism that she grew up with. I thought this story was very Ironic, but humorous. I felt really bad at the end of the story, but if she just listen to her son, her blood pressure wouldn't have rose to much!
Doe Season
I can see why Andy wants to hang out with her dad. Being the only child, having no bothers or sisters around makes it tough to understand who you really are. I come from a large family so i could always look up to my sisters to see what I'm suppose to wear and what looks good or not. I also had to share a room with my sister (i was the baby girl out of the family). And my sister always got mad when we were younger because i was daddy's little girl. I was the cheerleader and my other sister was the football player although now she turned out to be a girly girl i find it pretty funny, and can relate to Andy trying to find out who Andrea really is.
I short story also mentioned the book "Gone with the Wind" I knew that book sounded so familiar it's on my "to read list" I have it at my house. Its a romance book. Made back 1939. I can't wait to read it now that it was mentioned in the Doe season.
I short story also mentioned the book "Gone with the Wind" I knew that book sounded so familiar it's on my "to read list" I have it at my house. Its a romance book. Made back 1939. I can't wait to read it now that it was mentioned in the Doe season.
A Good Man is Hard to Find
Flannery O'Connor's short story "A Good Man Is Hard to Find" first appeared in the author's short story collection by the same name, which was published in 1955. Since then, it has become one of O'Connor's most highly regarded works of short fiction because it exhibits all the characteristics for which she is best known: a contrast of violent action with humorously and carefully drawn characters and a philosophy that underscores her devout Roman Catholic faith. Critics have admired the prose and the way O'Connor infuses the story with her Catholic belief about the role God's grace plays in the lives of ordinary people. The story is disturbing and humorous at the same time—a quality shared by many of O'Connor's other works, including her novels Wise Blood and The Violent Bear It Away.
Though the story begins innocently enough, O'Connor introduces the character of the Misfit, an escaped murderer who kills the entire family at the end of the story. Through this character, O'Connor explores the Christian concept of "grace"—that a divine pardon from God is available simply for the asking. In the story, it is the Grandmother—a petty, cantankerous, and overbearing individual—who attains grace at the moment of her death, when she reaches out to the Misfit and recognizes him as one of her own children. For O'Connor, God's grace is a force outside the character, something undeserved, an insight or moment of epiphany. Often, however, O'Connor's characters miss moments of opportunity to make some connection; their spiritual blindness keeps them from seeing truth.
"A Good Man Is Hard to Find'' is the title story of O'Connor's first short story collection, and, therefore, often serves as an introduction to the rest of her fiction. The story is enjoyable for its humorous portrayal of a family embarking on a vacation; O'Connor has been unforgiving in her portrayal of these characters—they are not likable. However, in creating characters that elicit little sympathy from readers, O'Connor has carefully set the premise for her main argument: that grace is for everyone, even those who seem loathesome.
A Good Man Is Hard to Find Summary
O'Connor's story is told by a third-person narrator, but the focus is on the Grandmother's perspective of events. Even though she complains that she would rather go to Tennessee than Florida for vacation, she packs herself (and secretly her cat, Pitty Sing) in the car with her son Bailey, his wife, and their children June Star, John Wesley, and the baby. In a comical instance of foreshadowing, she takes pains to dress properly in a dress and hat, so that if she were found dead on the highway everyone would recognize her as a lady.
When the family stops for lunch at Red Sammy Butts' barbecue place, the proprietor, a husky man, is insulted by June Star. Nevertheless, he and the Grandmother discuss the escaped murderer known as the Misfit. Noting that the world is increasingly a more dangerous and unfriendly place, Red Sammy tells the Grandmother that these days "A good man is hard to find." Back on the road, the Grandmother convinces her hen-pecked son to go out of their way so they can visit an old plantation she recalls from her childhood. The children second her suggestion when she mentions that the house contains secret passageways.... » Complete A Good Man Is Hard to Find Summary
http://www.enotes.com/good-man
I honestly can say I didn't think everyone was going to get killed in the end. I was pretty disappointed. But, I really liked the author's writing. It show's the time difference with culture and race from 1955 to now 2010. I would like to read more of her stories, because she had a terminal illness, I think her stories have a lot to do with not holding back and saying what she needs to say in her books.
Though the story begins innocently enough, O'Connor introduces the character of the Misfit, an escaped murderer who kills the entire family at the end of the story. Through this character, O'Connor explores the Christian concept of "grace"—that a divine pardon from God is available simply for the asking. In the story, it is the Grandmother—a petty, cantankerous, and overbearing individual—who attains grace at the moment of her death, when she reaches out to the Misfit and recognizes him as one of her own children. For O'Connor, God's grace is a force outside the character, something undeserved, an insight or moment of epiphany. Often, however, O'Connor's characters miss moments of opportunity to make some connection; their spiritual blindness keeps them from seeing truth.
"A Good Man Is Hard to Find'' is the title story of O'Connor's first short story collection, and, therefore, often serves as an introduction to the rest of her fiction. The story is enjoyable for its humorous portrayal of a family embarking on a vacation; O'Connor has been unforgiving in her portrayal of these characters—they are not likable. However, in creating characters that elicit little sympathy from readers, O'Connor has carefully set the premise for her main argument: that grace is for everyone, even those who seem loathesome.
A Good Man Is Hard to Find Summary
O'Connor's story is told by a third-person narrator, but the focus is on the Grandmother's perspective of events. Even though she complains that she would rather go to Tennessee than Florida for vacation, she packs herself (and secretly her cat, Pitty Sing) in the car with her son Bailey, his wife, and their children June Star, John Wesley, and the baby. In a comical instance of foreshadowing, she takes pains to dress properly in a dress and hat, so that if she were found dead on the highway everyone would recognize her as a lady.
When the family stops for lunch at Red Sammy Butts' barbecue place, the proprietor, a husky man, is insulted by June Star. Nevertheless, he and the Grandmother discuss the escaped murderer known as the Misfit. Noting that the world is increasingly a more dangerous and unfriendly place, Red Sammy tells the Grandmother that these days "A good man is hard to find." Back on the road, the Grandmother convinces her hen-pecked son to go out of their way so they can visit an old plantation she recalls from her childhood. The children second her suggestion when she mentions that the house contains secret passageways.... » Complete A Good Man Is Hard to Find Summary
http://www.enotes.com/good-man
I honestly can say I didn't think everyone was going to get killed in the end. I was pretty disappointed. But, I really liked the author's writing. It show's the time difference with culture and race from 1955 to now 2010. I would like to read more of her stories, because she had a terminal illness, I think her stories have a lot to do with not holding back and saying what she needs to say in her books.
Friday, February 19, 2010
'The little dog lost at sea'
http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/dailypix/2002/Aug/31/hokgetbig.jpg
On MARCH 13, 2002, a fire broke out in the engine room of an oil tanker about 800 miles south of Hawaii. The fire moved so fast that the Taiwanese crew did not have time to radio for help. Eleven survivors and the captain’s dog, a terrier named Hokget, retreated to the tanker’s forward quarters with supplies of food and water. The Insiko 1907 was supposed to be an Indonesian ship, but its owner had not registered it. In terms of international law, the Insiko was stateless, a 260-foot microscopic speck on the largest ocean on Earth.Now it was adrift. Drawn by wind and currents, the Insiko got within 220 miles of Hawaii. It was spotted by a cruise ship, which rescued the crew. But as the cruise ship pulled away, a few passengers heard the sound of barking. The captain’s dog had been left behind on the tanker. A passenger who heard the barking dog called the Hawaiian Humane Society in Honolulu. The animal-welfare group routinely rescued abandoned animals—675 the previous year—but recovering one on a tanker in the Pacific Ocean was something new. The Society alerted fishing boats about the lost tanker and soon media reports began appearing about Hokget.Something about a lost dog on an abandoned ship in the Pacific gripped people’s imaginations. Money poured in to fund a rescue. Donations eventually arrived from 39 states and four foreign countries. One check was for $5,000. “It was just about a dog,” Pamela Burns, president of the Hawaiian Humane Society, told me. “This was an opportunity for people to feel good about rescuing a dog. People poured out their support. A handful of people were incensed. These people said, ‘You should be giving money to the homeless.’” But Burns thought the great thing about America was that people were free to give money to whatever cause they cared about, and people cared about Hokget.The problem with a rescue was that no one knew where the Insiko was. The U.S. Coast Guard estimated it could be anywhere in an area measuring 360,000 square miles. Two Humane Society officers set off into the Pacific on a tugboat called the American Quest. The Society paid $48,000 to a private company called American Marine to look for the ship. Air, sea, and high-tech surveillance equipment were all pressed into service. With each passing day, the calls from around the world intensified: Had Hokget been found?The U.S. Coast Guard had said it could not use taxpayer money to save the dog, but under the guise of training exercises, the U.S. Navy began quietly hunting for the Insiko. Letters and checks to the Humane Society continued to pour in: “This check is in memory of the little dog lost at sea.” “Thank you for pulling my heartstrings and for reminding me of all the hope there is left in this world.” On April 9, a window of hope opened when the crew on a Japanese fishing boat reported seeing something that looked like the Insiko drifting in the direction of Johnston Atoll, an uninhabited U.S. territory. Two fishing vessels eventually reached the ship. But when the fishermen tried to rescue Hokget, the dog fled below decks in the direction of the engine room. The rescuers couldn’t follow. The fire had rendered much of the Insiko too dangerous.Rusty Nall, vice president of American Marine Corp., wasn’t ready to drop the chase. Nall felt like giving up, but when he went home each night, his 9-year-old daughter would ask, “Did you find the doggie, Daddy?” Nall would come back to work the next day and press on.THE STORY OF Hokget is touching. Human beings from around the world came together to try to save a dog. The vast majority of people who sent in money would never personally see Hokget. It was, as Pamela Burns suggested to me, an act of pure altruism and a marker of the remarkable capacity human beings have to empathize with the plight of others.There are a series of disturbing questions, however: Eight years before the Hokget saga began, the same world that showed extraordinary compassion for a dog sat on its hands as hundreds of thousands of human beings were killed in the Rwandan genocide. The 20th century reveals a shockingly long list of similar horrors that have been ignored by the world as they unfolded. Why have successive generations done so little to halt suffering on such a large scale?The philosopher Peter Singer once devised a dilemma that highlights a central contradiction in our moral reasoning. If you see a child drowning in a pond—and you would ruin a fine pair of shoes worth $200 if you jumped into the water—would you save the child or save your shoes? Most people react incredulously to the question; obviously, a child’s life is worth more than a pair of shoes. But if this is the case, Singer asked, why do large numbers of people hesitate to write checks for $200 to a reputable charity that could save the life of a child halfway around the world—when there are millions of children who need our help? The answer is that our moral responsibilities feel different in these situations; one situation feels visceral, the other abstract. We feel personally responsible for one child, whereas the other is one of millions who need help. Our responsibility feels diffused when it comes to children in distant places—there are many people who could write that check. But distance and diffusion of responsibility do not explain why we step forward in some cases. Why did so many people feel an abandoned dog on a stateless ship in international waters was their problem?I want to offer a disturbing idea. The reason human beings seem to care so little about mass suffering and death is precisely because the suffering is happening on a mass scale. The brain is simply not very good at grasping the implications of mass suffering. Americans would be far more likely to step forward if only a few people were suffering or a single person were in pain. Hokget did not draw our sympathies because we care more about dogs than people; she drew our sympathies because she was a single dog lost on the biggest ocean in the world. Our hidden brain—my term for a host of unconscious mental processes that subtly bias our judgment—shapes our compassion into a telescope. We are best able to respond when we are focused on a single victim.We don’t feel 20 times sadder when we hear that 20 people have died in a disaster than when we hear that one person has died, even though the magnitude of the tragedy is 20 times as large. We can reach such a conclusion abstractly, in our conscious minds, but we cannot feel it viscerally, because the hidden brain is simply not calibrated to deal with the difference between a single death and 20 deaths. But the paradox does not end there. Even if 10 deaths do not make us feel 10 times as sad as a single death, shouldn’t we feel at least twice as sad? There is disturbing evidence that shows we may actually care less. I suspect that if the Insiko had been carrying 100 dogs, many people would have cared less about their fate than they did about Hokget. One hundred dogs do not have a single face, a single name, a single life story around which we can wrap our imaginations and our compassion.The evidence for what I am going to call the telescope effect comes from a series of experiments. Psychologist Paul Slovic of the University of Oregon asked two groups of volunteers shortly after the Rwandan genocide to imagine they were officials in charge of a humanitarian rescue effort. Both groups were told their money could save 4,500 lives at a refugee camp, but one group was told the refugee camp had 11,000 people, whereas the other group was told the refugee camp had 250,000 people. Slovic found that people were much more reluctant to spend the money on the large camp than they were to spend the money on the small camp.Intrigued, Slovic pressed further. He asked different groups of volunteers to imagine they were running a philanthropic foundation. Would they rather spend $10 million to save 10,000 lives from a disease that caused 15,000 deaths a year, or save 20,000 lives from a disease that killed 290,000 people a year? Overwhelmingly, volunteers preferred to spend money saving the 10,000 lives rather than the 20,000 lives. Rather than tailor their investments to saving the largest number of lives, people sought to save the largest proportion of lives among the different groups of victims.We respond to mass suffering in much the same way that we respond to most things in our lives. We fall back on rules of thumb, on feelings, on intuitions. Our empathic telescopes are activated when we hear a single cry for help—the child drowning in the pond, the dog abandoned on an ocean. When we think of human suffering on a mass scale, our telescope does not work, because it has not been designed to work in such situations. Humans are the only species that is even aware of large-scale suffering taking place in distant lands; the moral telescope in our brain has not had a chance to evolve and catch up with our technological advances. Our conscious minds can tell us that it is absurd to spend a boatload of money to save one life when the same money could be used to save 10. But in moral decision-making, it is the hidden brain that usually carries the day.AFTER WOULD-BE rescuers from two fishing vessels frightened Hokget below decks, the effort to save the dog continued. There was talk of dispatching the U.S. Navy to sink the Insiko as a way of ensuring that any release of hazardous materials would occur hundreds of miles from shore. This, of course, would kill the dog—assuming it was still alive. Facing intense public pressure to save Hokget, government officials concluded that asking the Navy to sink the tanker—750 miles from Hawaii and drifting away from the distant U.S. mainland—posed unacceptable environmental risks. The Coast Guard finally agreed to access $250,000 in U.S. taxpayer funds to recover the Insiko. It wasn’t officially called an animal-rescue effort. Instead it was authorized under the Oil Spill Liability Trust Fund, based on the argument that if the aimless Insiko managed to drift westward for 250 straight miles, it might run aground on Johnston Atoll and harm marine life. The American Quest was called up again—this time funded by taxpayers—to rescue Hokget. On April 26, nearly a month and a half after the dog’s ordeal began, the tugboat’s crew found the Insiko and boarded the tanker. Hokget was still alive, hiding in a pile of tires. Brian Murray, the American Quest’s salvage supervisor, simply walked up and grabbed the terrier by the scruff of her neck. The dog, terrified, shook for two hours. Her rescuers fed her, bathed her, and applied lotion to her sunburned nose.Hokget arrived in Honolulu on May 2 and was greeted by crowds of spectators, a news conference, banners welcoming her to America, and a red Hawaiian lei. After a period in quarantine, Hokget was adopted by a family that lives outside Honolulu. When last heard from, she had put on weight and was signed up for dog classes.From the book The Hidden Brain ©2010 by Shankar Vedantam. Excerpted by permission of Random House Group, a division of Random House Inc. All rights reserved. http://www.theweek.com/article/index/106310/The_little_dog_lost_at_sea
open response
The problem with human compassion by author Shankar Vedantam explains why a dog tugs our hearts more than a distressed nation of millions. At first, I thought there is no way people care more about a dog than human being suffering. As I was reading the article, I realized that it was sadly very true; human beings care more about one specific thing rather than a group. As stated in the article " we don't feel 20 times sadder when we hear that 20 people have died in a disaster than when we hear that one person has died, even though the magnitude of the tragedy is 20 times large...But the paradox does not end there. Even if 10 deaths do not make us feel 10 times as sad as a single death, shouldn't we feel at least twice as sad? There is disturbing evidence that shows we may actually care less.' in reality, if truth be told, people don't care what is happening to the world around them, if it's not them in trouble they don't care about other people's problems; but when that person is in trouble they look to the bitter world around them and see only a few generous people willing to give a hand. I was happy when i read at the end of the story Hokget was still alive hiding in a pile pf tired, he was not lost at sea, and he was finally rescued! at first, in the beginning of the beginning of the article when the government officials wanted to sink the ship i had hoped the dog was still alive and prayed they would change their minds. maybe it's because i still have faith or its because I'm in denial that people would turn away and won;t give a hand. The chilling thoughts that there is mass group suffering around the world today is ludicrous.
Friday, February 12, 2010
LOVE Song- Mary J. Blige
This is one of my favorite songs, songs are just like poems, they are telling a story in there own way.
MARY J. BLIGE LYRICS Be Without You
I wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with you(Oh, oh, oh, oh)I wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with you(Oh, oh, oh, oh)Oooo (oh, oh, oh, oh) oooo
Chemistry was crazy from the get-goNeither one of us knew whyWe didn't build nothing overnightCuz a love like this takes some timePeople swore it off as a phaseSaid we can't see thatNow from top to bottomThey see that we did that (yes)It's so true that (yes)We've been through it (yes)We got real sh** (yes)See baby we been...Too strong for too long (and I can't be without you baby)And I'll be waiting up until you get home (cuz I can't sleep without you baby)Anybody who's ever loved, ya know just what I feelToo hard to fake it, nothing can replace itCall the radio if you just can't be without your babyI got a question for yaSee I already know the answerBut still I wanna ask youWould you lie? (no)Make me cry? (no)Do somethin' behind my back and then try to cover it up?Well, neither would I, babyMy love is only your love (yes)I'll be faithful (yes)I'm for real (yes)And with us you'll always know the dealWe've been...Too strong for too long (and I can't be without you baby)And I'll be waiting up until you get home (cuz I can't sleep without you baby)Anybody who's ever loved, ya know just what I feelToo hard to fake it, nothing can replace itCall the radio if you just can't be without your babySee this is real talkI'm always stay (no matter what)Good or bad (thick and thin)Right or wrong (all day everyday)Now if you're down on love or don't believeThis ain't for you (no, this ain't for you)And if you got it deep in your heartAnd deep down you know that it's true (come on, come on, come on)Well, let me see you put your hands up (hands up)Fellas tell your lady she's the one (fellas tell your lady she's the one, oh)Put your hands up (hands up)Ladies let him know he's got your loveLook him right in his eyes and tell himWe've been...Too strong for too long (and I can't be without you baby)And I'll be waiting up until you get home (cuz I can't sleep without you baby)Anybody who's ever loved, ya know just what I feelToo hard to fake it, nothing can replace itCall the radio if you just can't be without your baby
Heeeeeeeeeeeey OhhhhhhhhhhhhhHeeeeeeeeeeeey Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
I wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with youI wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with youI wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with youI wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with youI wanna be with you, gotta be with you, need to be with you
Definition of Love
love –noun
1.
a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2.
a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3.
sexual passion or desire.
4.
a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5.
(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6.
a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7.
sexual intercourse; copulation.
8.
(initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9.
affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10.
strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11.
the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12.
the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13.
Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14.
a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/love
1.
a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2.
a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3.
sexual passion or desire.
4.
a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5.
(used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6.
a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7.
sexual intercourse; copulation.
8.
(initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9.
affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10.
strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11.
the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12.
the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13.
Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14.
a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/love
The Lives of Homeless Women- by Elliot Liebow
I thought maybe everyone should read this article. This was an article I read for my sociology class. I thought this was perfect because everyone knows right now times are tough! This may uplift some people's spirits and step back and say that maybe you don't have it as bad as you thought. READ THIS ARTICLE! There are still some good people in the world, kindof hard to believe you have to read for yourself to believe.
The Lives of
Homeless Women
One of the main topics in Chapter 1 of Core Concepts is the methods that sociologists use
to do their research. A common method is participant observation combined with interviewing.
When I was doing research on the homeless, I used this combination. I slept in
homeless shelters across the nation—in about a dozen U.S. cities and one in Canada.
There and on the streets and in the alleys of these many skid rows, and even on a streetcar
and in cafes, I conducted what seemed to be endless interviews. The research was
emotionally draining. On dark streets and in back alleys, I had to continuously watch out
for danger that appeared to lurk around every corner. One afternoon, as sirens
screamed, I squatted next to a building, dictating into my tape recorder. I described the
arrival of the police and medics to aid a homeless man who was lying bleeding on the
sidewalk. He had been attacked by another homeless man.
Thousands of people live on our city streets. These discards of the advanced technological
society have been left behind in our culturally mandated frenetic pursuit after
material wealth. Like others, Elliot Liebow, a researcher with the National Institute of
Mental Health, had seen these disheveled, unwelcome people sitting in parks and on
stoops, sleeping next to shopping carts, sorting through trash bins, and begging on the
city streets. Like others, he wondered what their life was like. And like a few of us—very
few—he decided to find out firsthand—by experiencing their world. He, too, left his comfortable,
upper-middle-class home and joined the street people. This is his engrossing
account of that experience.
Thinking Critically
As you read this selection, ask yourself:
1. Liebow is reluctant to say that any of the homeless women he studied were mentally
ill. Why does he have this reluctance? Based on what he says in this article, do you
think any of these women were mentally ill? Why or why not?
2. How do you think that the problem of homelessness can be solved? You must be
practical; that is, try to come up with workable solutions.
READING 2 THE LIVES OF HOMELESS WOMEN 11
This is a participant observer study of single, homeless women in emergency shelters
in a small city just outside Washington, D.C. In participant observation, the researcher
tries to participate as fully as possible in the lives of the people being
studied. Of course, there are obvious and severe limits to how well a man with a
home and family can put himself in the place of homeless women. One simply goes
where they go, gets to know them over time as best one can, and tries very hard to
see the world from their perspective.
It is often said that, in participant observation studies, the researcher is the research
instrument. So is it here. Everything reported about the women in this study
has been selected by me and filtered through me, so it is important that I tell you
something about myself and my prejudices as well as how this study came about. Indeed,
I feel obliged to tell you more than is seemly and more than you may want to
know, but these are things that the women themselves knew about me and that had
an important if unknown influence on my relationship with them.
In a real sense, I backed into this study, which took shape, more or less, as I
went along. In 1984, I learned that I had cancer and a very limited life expectancy. I
did not want to spend my last months on the 12th floor of a government office
building, so at 58 I retired on disability from my job of 20-some years as an anthropologist
with the National Institute of Mental Health.
I looked well, felt well, and had a lot of time on my hands, so I became a volunteer
at a soup kitchen that had recently opened. I worked there one night a week.
In the early part of the evening, I helped serve food or just sat around with the men
and women who had come there, usually eating with them. In case of trouble, I tried
to keep the peace. Later I went upstairs to “the counselor’s office,” where I met with
people who needed assistance in getting shelter for the night. For the next hour or
so, I called around to the various shelters in the county or in downtown Washington,
D.C., trying to locate and reserve sleeping space for the men and women who
needed it.
I enjoyed the work and the people at the soup kitchen, but this was only one
night a week, so I became a volunteer at The Refuge, an emergency shelter for homeless
women. This, too, was one night a week, from 6:30 to 10:00, and involved sleeping
overnight twice a month. I picked this shelter because I had visited there briefly the
year before and liked the feel of it. Here, along with three other volunteers, my job
was to help prepare the food (usually just heat the main dishes and make a salad); help
serve the food; distribute towels, soap, and other sundries on request; socialize with
3. Assume that we will continue to have homeless people. How can we improve the way
they are treated? Cite specific instances from the reading that you would try to solve.
From Tell Them Who I Am: The Lives of Homeless Women by Elliot Liebow. Reprinted and edited with
permission of The Free Press, a division of Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group. Copyright © 1993
by Elliot Liebow. All rights reserved.
12 CHAPTER 1 THE SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE
the women; keep order; and keep a daily log that included the names of all the women
present and their time of arrival.
Almost immediately, I found myself enjoying the company of the women. I
was awed by the enormous effort that most of them made to secure the most elementary
necessities and decencies of life that the rest of us take for granted. And I
was especially struck by their sense of humor, so at odds with any self-pity—the
ability to step back and laugh at oneself, however wryly. One evening, soon after I
started working at the shelter, several of us remained at the table to talk after finishing
dinner. Pauline turned to me and said, in a stage whisper, making sure that Hilda
would hear her, “Hilda has a Ph.D.”
Hilda laughed. “No,” she said, “I don’t have a Ph.D., but I do have a bachelor’s
degree in biology.” She paused, then began again. “You know,” she said, “all
my life I wanted to be an MD and now, at the age of 54, I finally made it. I’m a
Manic Depressive.”
Seduced by the courage and the humor of the women, and by the pleasure of
their company, I started going to the shelter four and sometimes five days a week.
(For the first two years, I also kept my one-night-a-week job with the soup kitchen.)
Probably because it was something I was trained to do, or perhaps our of plain
habit, I decided to take notes.
“Listen,” I said at the dinner table one evening, after getting permission to do
a study from the shelter director. “I want your permission to take notes. I want to go
home at night and write down what I can remember about the things you say and
do. Maybe I’ll write a book about homeless women.”
Most of the dozen or so women there nodded their heads or simply shrugged.
All except Regina. Her acceptance was conditional. “Only if you promise not to
publish before I do,” she said. Believing that neither one of us, for different reasons,
would ever publish anything in the future, I readily agreed.1
It is difficult to be precise about how I was perceived by the women. I am 6'1"
and weigh about 175 pounds. I had a lot of white hair but was otherwise nondescript.
I dressed casually, often in corduroy pants, shirt, and cardigan. The fact that
I was Jewish did not seem to matter much one way or another so far as I could tell.
Most of the women probably liked having me around. Male companionship
was generally in short supply and the women often made a fuss about the few male
volunteers. I would guess that there were as many women who actively sought me
out as there were women who avoided me. The fact that I had written a book that
was available at the library (three or four women took the trouble to read it) enhanced
my legitimacy in their eyes.2
Principally, I think, the women saw me as an important resource. I had money
and a car, and by undertaking to write a book, I had made it my business to be with
them. I routinely lent out $2, $5, $10, or even $20 on request to the handful who
asked: I told them I had set aside a certain amount as a revolving fund and I could
only keep lending money if they kept returning it. This worked fairly well.
There were a few women, of course, who would never be in a position to return
the money, and this made for a problem. It would have been patronizing simply
to make a gift of the money; they wanted to be borrowers, not beggars, and I was
just as eager as they to avoid a demeaning panhandler/donor relationship. But I did
READING 2 THE LIVES OF HOMELESS WOMEN 13
not want them to be embarrassed or to avoid me simply because they couldn’t repay
a loan, nor did I want to shut them off from borrowing more. My solution was to
reassure these women I had no immediate need for the money and could wait indefinitely
for repayment.
Some of the women would perhaps characterize me as a friend, but I am not
certain how deep or steadfast this sense of friendship might be. One day, Regina and
I were talking about her upcoming trial about two months away. I had already
agreed to accompany her to the courtroom and serve as an advisor, but Regina
wanted further reassurance.
“You will be there, won’t you?” she said.
As a way of noting the profundity that nothing in life is certain, I said, jokingly,
“It’s not up to me, it’s up to The Man Upstairs.”
“Well,” she said, “if you die before the trial, you will ask one of your friends
to help me, won’t you?” I looked hard at her to see if she was joking, too. She
wasn’t. She was simply putting first things first.
One or two of the women did say something like “If you weren’t married,
would you give me a run for my money?” Neither “yes” nor “no” was a suitable response,
but it usually sufficed for me to say (and mean), “I think you are a very nice
person.”
I tried to make myself available for driving people to Social Services, a job interview,
a clinic or hospital, a cemetery, to someone’s house, to another shelter, to
help them move their belongings, or on other personal errands. With my consent,
several women used my name as a personal reference for jobs or housing, and a few
used my home as a mailing address for income tax refunds or other business.
Several of the women got to know my two daughters, both of whom came to
The Refuge a few evenings each during the winters. One daughter was engaged to be
married and her fiancé also came a few times. These visits helped strengthen my ties
to those women who knew my daughters by face and name. They could ask me how
my wife, Harriet, or Elisabeth and Jessica and Eric were doing, and my subsequent
participation in discussions about family or child-rearing was much more personal
and immediate as a result.
My association with the women was most intense during the winter of 1984–
85, all of 1986, much of 1987, and the winter of 1987–88. Thereafter, I slackened
off, partly for health reasons and partly because I had already collected more notes
than I knew what to do with.3 I continued to go to the shelters intermittently, and
several of the women called me regularly at home. It was also at this time that I
started playing around with the notes to see how I might eventually make sense of
them.
In general, I have tried to avoid labeling any of the women as “mentally ill,”
“alcoholic,” “drug addicted,” or any other characterization that is commonly used
to describe—or, worse, to explain—the homeless person. Judgments such as these
are almost always made against a background of homelessness. If the same person
were seen in another setting, the judgment might be altogether different. Like you, I
know people who drink, people who do drugs, and bosses who have tantrums and
treat their subordinates like dirt. They all have good jobs. Were they to become
homeless, some of them would surely also become “alcoholics,” “addicts,” or
14 CHAPTER 1 THE SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE
“mentally ill.” Similarly, if some of the homeless women who are now so labeled
were to be magically transported to a more usual and acceptable setting, some of
them—not all, of course—would shed their labels and take their places with the rest
of us somewhere on the spectrum of normality.
The reader may be puzzled by the short shrift given here to mental illness. This
was no oversight. I have no training as a mental health professional so it is not always
clear to me who is mentally ill and who is not. There were always some
women who acted crazy or whom most considered crazy, and the women themselves
often agreed with the public at large that many homeless people are mentally ill.
From the beginning, however, I paid little attention to mental illness, partly because
I had difficulty recognizing it, and partly for other reasons. Sometimes mental
illness seemed to be “now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t” phenomenon; some of the
women were fine when their public assistance checks arrived, but became increasingly
“symptomatic” as the month progressed and their money (security?) diminished,
coming full circle when the next check arrived.4 Others had good or bad days
or weeks but with no obvious pattern or periodicity, although one woman linked
her down period to her menstrual cycle. With a little patience on my part, almost all
the women with mental or emotional problems were eventually and repeatedly accessible.
Even on “bad” days, perhaps especially on “bad” days, these women sometimes
said things that seemed to come, uncensored, from the depths of their
emotional lives.
It seems to me that those women who may have been mentally ill (or alcoholic
or drug addicted) by one or another standard were homeless for exactly the same
proximal reason that everyone else was homeless: they had no place to live. Similarly,
their greatest need of the moment was the same as everyone else’s: to be assured
of a safe, warm place to sleep at night, one or more hot meals a day, and the
presence, if not the companionship, of fellow human beings. Given this perspective
and my purposes, which and how many of the women were mentally ill was not a
critical issue.
Whatever one’s view of mental illness, it is probably true that the more one
gets to know about a person, the easier it is to put oneself in that person’s place or
to understand his or her viewpoint, and the less reason one has for thinking of that
person or treating that person as mentally ill.
This perspective—indeed, participant observation itself—raises the age-old
problem of whether anyone can understand another or put oneself in another’s
place. Many thoughtful people believe that a sane person cannot know what it is to
be crazy, that a white man cannot understand a black man, a Jew cannot see
through the eyes of a Christian, a man through the eyes of a woman, and so forth in
both directions. In an important sense, of course, and to a degree, this is certainly
true; in another sense, and to a degree, it is surely false, because the logical extension
of such a view is that no one can know another, that only John Jones can know John
Jones, in which case social life would be impossible.
I do not mean that a man with a home and family can see and feel the world as
homeless women see and feel it. I do mean, however, that it is reasonable and useful
to try to do so. Trying to put oneself in the place of the other lies at the heart of the
social contract and of social life itself...
READING 2 THE LIVES OF HOMELESS WOMEN 15
In the early months, I sometimes tried to get Betty or one of the other women
to see things as I saw them. One night Betty waited half an hour in back of the library
for a bus that never came. She was convinced this was deliberate and personal
abuse on the part of the Metro system. Metro was out to get her, she said. “But how
did Metro know you were waiting for a bus at that time?” I asked. Betty shook her
head in pity of me. “Well, Elliot, I was there on the street, right there in public, in the
open! How could they not see me waiting for that damn bus?”
Fairly quickly, I learned not to argue with Betty but simply to relax and marvel
at her end-of-the-month ingenuity. (“End-of-the-month” because that’s when her
public assistance money ran out and when she was most bitter at the way the world
was treating her. At that time, a $10 or $20 loan could dramatically reduce or even
eliminate her paranoid thoughts.) Once, when her food stamps had not come, even
two days after Judy had received hers, Betty dryly observed that this was further
proof that Richman County was trying to rid itself of homeless women. “They give
Judy Tootie her food stamps so she’ll eat herself to death [Judy weighed 300
pounds]. They won’t give me mine so I’ll starve to death.” She got no argument
from me. I had learned to go with the flow.
Sometimes I annoyed or even angered some of the women. When Louise told
me that some of the women were following her around all day and harassing her, I
asked her why they did these things. “You’re just like the state’s attorney,” she said,
“always asking for reasons. Whenever I tell him that someone assaulted me, he always
asks me why they did it. People with criminal minds don’t need a reason to do
something. That’s what makes them criminals.”
...I think of Betty and Louise and many of the other women as friends. As a
friend, I owe them friendship. Perhaps I also owe them something because I have so
much and they have so little, but I do not feel under any special obligation to them
as research subjects. Indeed, I do not think of them as “research subjects.” Since
they knew what I was trying to do and allowed me to do it, they could just as well
be considered collaborators in what might fairly be seen as a cooperative enterprise.
NOTES
1. Let the record show that now, some seven-plus years later, I have her permission to
go ahead.
2. Tally’s Corner: A Study of Negro Streetcorner Men.
3. For the same reason, I stopped taking life histories. After the women had known me
for a few months, I took about 20 life histories on tape, often at the request of the women
themselves and over a period of two years or so. Some of these lasted several hours over two
or three sessions and I found myself accumulating more information than I could handle.
4. Many schizophrenics are completely lucid for long periods of time, and their
thoughts and behavior are completely indistinguishable from those of normals. Even
Bleuler...asserted that there were certain very important cognitive processes...that were
frequently identical among schizophrenics and normals. “In many important respects,
then, an insane person may be completely sane” (emphasis added). Morris Rosenberg, “A
Symbolic Interactionist View of Psychosis,” Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 25,
no. 3 (September 1984), p. 291.
My Reflection
I learned that…by reading this article “The lives of homeless women” by Elliot Liebow not everyone in this homeless shelter was metal ill or addicts. I also learned one of the women in the shelter has a bachelor’s degree in biology. She stated “I wanted to become an MD and now, at age 54, I finally made it. I’m a manic depressive.” I also learned a lot about these women and their sense of humor, even though living in a shelter some still put on a smile. I also learned that Elliot did not judge these women. He didn’t judge them because they were homeless he seen through that and kept them company and gave them someone to talk to. He was a male guidance most of these women needed.I was surprised that… Elliot Liebow volunteered at the homeless shelter about five times a week. Giving the okay by these women I was surprised they allowed him to take notes. He really got attached to these women whether it was loaning them money, or finding another shelter for them to stay the night. Elliot never gave up on these women. Although he had cancer this was his passion. Helping these women was routine to him. I was also surprise he got his family involved; knowing it was important to him his daughter and daughters fiancée volunteered a couple of times. Elliot never put any pressure on the women who he gave a loan too. Whether it was a dollar here and five dollars there Elliot didn’t mind when the women could return the money. Elliot was not only a great volunteer but a great friend!
I discovered that… In this article not everyone put on a smile and was happy. He talks about a women names Betty who wasn’t too friendly. Betty always thought someone was out to get her. “Once, when her food stamps had not come, even two days after Judy had received hers, Betty dryly observed that this was further proof that Richman County was trying to rid itself of homeless women. They give Judy Tootie her food stamps so she’ll eat herself to death, they won’t give me mine so I’ll starve to death.” Perfect example of her thinking everyone’s out to get her. She didn’t appreciate Elliot’s help.
I was disappointed that…Elliot didn’t tell us what happened to the women. I have a few questions that need to be answered such as did some women get jobs? How is Elliot and his cancer? I was also disappointed that he gave money to some women and didn’t return it back to him. Even though some couldn’t afford to give it back, and he knew that, it’s just the right thing to do is talk with him and apologize Elliot would understand.
Under the Banyan Tree- last quote
Nambi was the small village’s entertainment. Although he was illiterate the stories Nambi told were magnificent. Nambi’s deep meditation gave him the stories to tell which took days to finish. Unfortunately Nambi was growing old and finally became speechless. He stated a great quote, “It is the Mother who gives the gifts; and it is she who takes away the gifts”. Nambi spent his last days in silence. I feel sorry for him because his imagination was incredible. The last story he told the village wasn’t even a story at all, he said, “Goddess be thanked…These are my last words on this earth; and this is my greatest story”. I feel as if Nambi realized his days of storytelling were over. The village people didn’t truly understand what Nambi was saying, they came for a story and great entertainment, they didn’t come for Nambi’s last words! “The rest of his life (he lived for a few more years) was one great consummate silence”. I feel as if he was carrying a great amount of stress and pressure. The village people looked up to him and his great stories. When Nambi had nothing else to say, they were left with confusion.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Music Mix Tape
“Take me as I am” (Mary J. Blige). “Don’t know what to tell ya” (Aaliyah). “Silly boy” (Lady GaGa). “I Believe” (Aaliyah). “You belong with me” (Taylor Swift). “I just can’t stop loving’ you” (Michael Jackson). “Let’s groove” (Earth wind and fire). “Just the two of us” (Will smith). “When you give it up to me” (Keyshia Cole). “I can transform ya” (Chris Brown). “Sweet Dreams” (Beyonce). “Love” (Keyshia Cole). “Till the morning (Mary J. Blige). “Ring the alarm” (Beyonce). “I will be here for you” (Will smith). “You complete me” (Keyshia Cole). “I love you (yes I du) ( Mary J, Blige). “Thought you should know” (Keyshia Cole). “I am” (Mary j. Blige). “The one” (Mary J. Blige).
I feel as if music can express how you feel. I also thought this was very difficult to come up with a story using song titles. At first I thought it was going to be easy, but in the end I found that it was pretty difficult.
I feel as if music can express how you feel. I also thought this was very difficult to come up with a story using song titles. At first I thought it was going to be easy, but in the end I found that it was pretty difficult.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Under the Banyan Tree by R K Narayan
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/56/156008588_51e60e5ba7.jpg
A banyan is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the species Ficus benghalensis, though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a unique life cycle, and systematically to refer to the subgenus Urostigma.[1] The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground, and may envelope part of the host tree or building structure with their roots, giving them the casual name of "strangler fig." The "strangling" growth habit is found in a number of tropical forest species, particularly of the genus Ficus, that compete for light. Any Ficus species showing this habit may be termed a strangler fig.
Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots which grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area. The largest such tree is now found in Kolkata in India. One of the most famous of banyan trees was planted on the island of Kabirvad in Gujarat. Records show that the Kabirvad tree is more than 300 years old. Another famous banyan tree was planted in 1873 in Lahaina's Courthouse Square in Hawai'i, and has now grown to cover two-thirds of an acre.
In the Story Under the Banyan Tree by R K Narayan, the village goes under this tree and listens to the story Nambi tells. He can go on for days to tell one short story. Nambi is illiterate, but has great imagination. Nambi refuses to tell his age, and does not want to be old. At the end of the short story, he realizes he is old. He is dumbfounded he has no more stories to tell. Nambi has a great ending quote "it is the Mother who gives the gifts: and it is she who takes away the gifts." Although the villagers are confused, those were his last words, Nambi lived in silence until the day he died.
A&P by John Updike
JOHN UPDIKE
1932-2009
As shown from the picture above on the left hand side, the bathing suit was from the 1960's. As described in the short story A&P by John Updike, the three girls were wearing this kind of two-piece. Looking at the picture and comparing it to the two-pieces the women wear now is completely different. Back in the 1960 the bathing suits were Conservative. If the manager was in this day and age and seen what people where now to the beach, my opinion he would be shocked and disgusted.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTm4V2Bex5jPp0OEKkUkFkaaznCCdjnnCxhdtVxSccDJeqAISGjZYTdTwSLEQ47cKGj46ZCzspSbYZkbz-7JgLepkwI-Tn5QQj9YzIL4jzk6O5H19AJLP_AvUHfRVyYTV1NPhfv48USA/s400/tee6.jpg
The author was born in Reading, Pennsylvania, and spent his first years in nearby Shillington, a small town where his father was a high school science teacher. The area surrounding Reading has provided the setting for many of his stories, with the invented towns of Brewer and Olinger standing in for Reading and Shillington. An only child, Updike and his parents shared a house with his grandparents for much of his childhood. When he was 13, the family moved to his mother's birthplace, a stone farmhouse on an 80-acre farm near Plowville, eleven miles from Shillington, where he continued to attend school. He then moved to Boston after the separation in 1974. John remarried and settled in Georgetown Ma. http://www.achievement.org/autodoc/page/upd0bio-1
As shown from the picture above on the left hand side, the bathing suit was from the 1960's. As described in the short story A&P by John Updike, the three girls were wearing this kind of two-piece. Looking at the picture and comparing it to the two-pieces the women wear now is completely different. Back in the 1960 the bathing suits were Conservative. If the manager was in this day and age and seen what people where now to the beach, my opinion he would be shocked and disgusted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)