Anne Frank's House

The museum opens at 9:00 each day, and after seeing the long lines the previous day, I made sure to get there early.  Even arriving a half hour before opening, there were at least 100 people in line ahead of me.

I was bundled up for the weather though, and didn't mind the wait.

The house is located on a narrow street that overlooks one of the many canals.  I didn't take a picture of it because I would have had to cross over on the other side of the canal to get a shot.

It is very nondescript.  It looks very much like all of the other homes/buildings in the area.  A small sign at the entryway is the only clue to the history it holds.

A view of the house from across the canal.
It is the one with the grey panels behind the tree in the middle of the picture.
Photo found online.

Here's another photo found online.
Everything from the right corner to there the bikes are is the museum.
What you can't see is the vast number of people waiting in line to get in.

I had not purchased a ticket online, and just took my chances that I would be able to purchase one at the door.

Thankfully, I could.

The street level of the house has been converted into a museum foyer, with all of the necessary trappings to accommodate the number of visitors each day.

It is a self-guided tour, which is nice.  You can go at your own pace.

Although there were many people, it was totally quiet.

A very somber scene.

There are videos throughout, explaining what was happening at the time, and the only voices heard.

The house is four stories, with incredibly steep stairs.  Access to this area was through an entryway disguised as a bookcase.  When moved, it reveals a secret passageway upstairs.

This is a diagram of the house, also found online.

There were eight folks hidden away here for over two years.

They were betrayed by someone, and their whereabouts noted and they were arrested and sent to the concentration camps.  Of these eight people in hiding (Anne, her older sister, mother and father plus four others) only her father survived the Holocaust.

When you think about the atrocities leveled against these folks and millions others, it's hard to imagine that degree of loathing and hatred.  And yet, this place is living proof of that, and of the resiliency of the people to survive.

The Kindness of Strangers

As the other passengers and I heard the boarding call for our departing flight out of Abu Dhabi the other day, as usual, we were separated by economy and business class lines as we were ushered forward.

I noticed a couple, first sitting and waiting like the rest of us, then again when they stood in the business class line.

The guy was black, I'm guessing about 35 or so.  He had on those big imposing headphones, listening to music I suppose.  The woman was white.  She looked older, fiddling with her phone.

While waiting, a young man in a wheelchair was wheeled forwarded, pushed by an airport porter.  He was traveling alone.

Immediately, this young black became aware of the man in the wheelchair, and kept a close eye on him.

Interestingly, the buildings here are not wheelchair friendly, at all.  Public transportation either.

This flight required us to board a bus, and be taken to the tarmac across the airport, to board our plane.

There was no way to get this wheelchair-bound man on the bus easily.  Although a thin man, it took three guys to lift him in his wheelchair onto the bus, as there was not an automatic lift.

The black guy and his lady friend were already on the bus, but he immediately came forward to help when he saw what was happening.  He doted over the man, making sure his feet were properly positioned and that he was ok and comfortable.

He helped to guide him off the bus when we reached the plane.

All of the other passengers, including me, emptied the bus and climbed the 20-plus steps to enter the plane from the tarmac.

When I reached the top of the stairs and looked back, I saw the black guy had lifted the wheelchair man out of the chair.  He proceeded to carry him up all of those steps, brought him into the plane, sat him down and settled him in.  His lady friend carried his bag for him.  She then disappeared into the business class section of the plane. The man, however, arranged it with the flight attendant, changed his seat, and sat down next to the wheelchair man for the remainder of the flight.

Now this man had a business class ticket that would have been way more comfortable for him, as he was a big guy, but he gave it up to sit by the man through the flight, making sure he was OK.

You would think the wheelchair man would have been grateful for the help, but I didn't hear a whisper of thanks, or a motion of gratitude, which I thought was odd, tacky even.

But then, I thought about it some more, and realized that this young man was probably embarrassed that he needed help.  But the man helping him was undeterred by all the attention.  He continued to be his guardian angel.

It was an incredible case of kindness on display.

The consideration this guy showed the wheelchair man was extraordinary.  It's like he'd done this before.  He wasn't intimated by the chair or what it meant.  He didn't care what others around him thought.  He was all about action.  Helping this man in any way he could.

This was a powerful gesture - one of overwhelming concern - for his fellow man.

I was reminded of Ben's accident.

The six months or so that Ben was wheelchair-bound was a tough time, but it was a time of learning and growing, too.

Mostly, it was clear that folks in wheelchairs are so often invisible.  In Ben's case, they chose to look away, and not acknowledge his presence.  I'm sure these events were typical of others in the same predicament.

It is because of this experience with Ben, that I'm so much more conscious of people in wheelchairs and the logistical things that entails when they're trying to get around, like uneven payment and curbs.

This young man's actions warmed my heart.

May his unselfish act, be an example for us to follow.

As we celebrate this Christmas Season, may we all have the will and the wherewithal to reach out and help those in need, not for show, or expecting anything in return, but simply because it's the right thing to do.

The Nutcracker Reimagined

What Did Jesus REALLY Look Like? | Decoded | MTV News

This coat changes into a sleeping bag. And changes lives.

As seen on The Grommet -




https://www.thegrommet.com/the-empowerment-plan?utm_campaign=20151224&utm_content=27902&utm_medium=email&utm_source=CC&trk_msg=PN295E1SDLAKF1GGS4G795OUH8&trk_contact=6PJ17299EJ5SLGM27119G0AQ7K

Merry Christmas!

Here's wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas and a spectacular New Year!

May 2016 be the beginning of the best years of your life!

Consider Oslo

From The Root -

For Americans of Color, Is Norway a Racism-Free Utopia?

It’s not cheap to live there, but for these expats of color, Norway is a place where no matter your color, you’re American first.

BY: DAYVEE SUTTON

It’s cold, with really short days in the winter. Like, sunset is at 3 p.m. And it’s white. Like, really white—as in the descendants of Vikings. But in the city center of Oslo, Norway, black American expats are living what seems to be the dream of Martin Luther King Jr.: being judged by the content of their character and whatnot.

It’s so good at times that instead of worrying about random police stops when he leaves his house for work, Washington, D.C., native Anthony Durham is cheered with the nickname “Obama” when he walks inside his barbershop, which is operated by a Somali-and-Nigerian duo. He’s praised because he’s an American. White women don’t clutch their purses in his presence; instead, he says, most days he blends in with his new community. At most, he may get a glance out of curiosity when he and his wife speak English with an American accent.

“They’re like, ‘Are they tourists?’” he says. “In Norway it’s like I’m American first and black second.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The complete article can be found at -

http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2015/12/for_americans_of_color_is_norway_a_racism_free_utopia.html?wpisrc=newsletter_jcr:content%26

End Gun Violence

Kudos to these athletes for joint forces and speaking out against gun violence.

Amsterdam Sights

Those of you who know me well, know that I have a theory about white folks and cold weather.

It's this - when you look outside and see white folks in coats, that means black folks (OK, maybe just me) should grab three.

Today when I ventured outside, and saw folks bundled up tight, I ignored my theory, thinking it was a fluke.  It really was a mostly mild, overcast day, or so I thought.

The streets are narrow and the buildings tall, so I was shielded from the weather as I trekked to the bus stop, about a ten-minute walk from my hotel.

As I typically do on these solo journeys, I hopped on a tour bus to get an overview of the city.  We were near Anne Franke's House (the Jewish teen who chronicled her life in hiding during World War II in The Diary of Ann Frank), so I decided to get off and visit the museum.  The line was crazy long, and to my surprise, it was crazy cold, so I quickly scratched those plans and sought a cafe for a cup of joe to warm up.

Oh my goodness, I couldn't believe how cold it was, with a fierce biting wind!

So this, my friends, provides even more proof that my theory is, in fact, a valid one.

Below are some of the sights of this vibrant city.

This house with the red lights in the windows, literally means it a "red light district" place of business.
Prostitution is legal here.  There was a woman in a very tiny bikini standing in one of the windows.
She backed away when she saw me taking pictures.
One of the windows had the name "Esther," the name of the woman showcased there, I assume.

This city has embraced bicyclists like no other I've seen.
There are thousands of bikes everywhere.
There are bike shops and bike rentals on every block it seems.
The bike lanes run parallel to the sidewalks, separated from the automobile traffic.
Here everyone has their own lane.
It's a pretty awesome sight to see.

There are canals and bridges all around.
There are boat tours, but even with covered boats,
I'm thinking that would be too cold for me.

This flag is the official flag of Amsterdam, the capital city of the Netherlands.

This is a view of the many houseboats that line the canals.

Here's another view of houseboats.

Although this picture isn't great, I was tickled to see these toddlers
riding along in their covered motorized wagon.  

A street view

Life along the canals.

My plan is to get up early, bundle up, and beat the lines at the Ann Frank Museum tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

Greetings From Amsterdam!

This is the view from my hotel window.

I arrived late afternoon today, and will be here for a few days.

It's a beautiful, very picturesque city.  It was overcast, so most of the pictures I took today were too dark to publish, but I plan to hit the streets early tomorrow, with the hope of a sunny day.

More soon.

Senior Computer Skills

Young folks.  Laugh.  In the blink of an eye, you'll be the seniors that kids are making fun of.

Forwarded from Forrest -

Senior Computer Skills...

         
Tech support:   What kind of computer do you have?
Customer:         A white one...
Tech support:   Click on the 'my computer' icon on to the left of the screen.
Customer:         Your left or my left?

 ************************  
Customer:   Hi, good afternoon, this is Martha, I can't print. Every time I try, it says 'can’t find printer’.
I've even lifted the printer and placed it in front of the monitor,but the computer still says he can't find it..
 *************************  

 Customer:        My keyboard  is not working anymore.
Tech support:   Are you sure it's plugged into the computer?
Customer:         No. I can't get behind the computer.
Tech support:   Pick up your keyboard and walk 10 paces back.
Customer:          OK
Tech support:   Did the keyboard come with you?
Customer:          Yes
Tech support:  That means the keyboard  is not plugged in.
 *************************  
Customer:           I can't get on the Internet.
Tech support:     Are you sure you used the right password?
Customer:           Yes, I'm sure. I saw my colleague do it.
Tech  support:   Can you tell me what the password was?
Customer:          Five dots.
 *************************  
Tech  support:  What anti-virus program do you use?
Customer:         Netscape.
Tech support:   That's not an anti-virus program.
Customer:         Oh, sorry... Internet Explorer..
 *************************  
Customer:    I have a huge problem.A friend has placed a screen saver on my computer,

but every time I move the mouse, it disappears.
 *************************  
Tech support:    How may I help you?
Customer:          I'm writing my first email.
Tech support:   OK, and what seems to be the problem?
Customer:         Well, I have the letter 'a' in the address, but how do I get the little circle around it?
 *************************   
This one and the next    are our personal favorites! 
A woman customer called the Canon help desk with a problem with her printer.
Tech support:    Are you running it under windows?
Customer:  'No, my desk is next to the door, but that is a good point.
The man sitting in the cubicle next to me is under a window, and his printer is working fine.'
 

 ************************  
And last but   not least!  
Tech  support:   'Okay Bob, let's  press the control and escape keys at the same time.
That brings up a task list in the middle of the screen.  Now type the letter 'P' to bring up the Program Manager.'
Customer:         I don't have a P.
Tech  support:  On your keyboard, Bob.
Customer:         What do you mean?
Tech support:  'P'.....on your  keyboard, Bob.
Customer:  I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT

Living in Chaos

First, apologies for being awol.  Between finishing up with the first half of school and dealing with some health issues, I've done very little beyond the absolute necessities.  Thankfully, all is well health-wise and we started our two week winter break yesterday.

A few days ago, I picked up David Gregory's book How's Your Faith and found a common thread - being raised in a household with an alcoholic parent.  Of course, that's where the commonalities end, as he was a child of privilege, and I was definitely not.

What was intriguing to me was how dealing with an alcoholic parent impacts, not just your childhood, but every aspect of your life.  Reading his story illustrated this wasn't an isolated occurrence for me, but others dealt/are dealing with this, too.

At 59 years old, some memories of my childhood stand out crystal clear.

Like -

Mom hiding money and half-filled liquor bottles around the house, trying to convince my father he had drank it all, and there was no money left for any more.  Actually I think this strategy backfired more often than not, as he would just go back to the liquor store and buy more on credit.  When he got paid, his liquor bill was the first bill paid, with Mom having to make do with what was left.

Like -

The vivid stench of rancid liquor that seeped from every pore of his body.  That was coupled with having the job of helping Mom to clean the vomit that he regularly upchucked while she wrangled him to go to bed to sleep it off.

Like -

During my middle and high school days when he went five years without a drink, and then when he arrived home late stumbling in from the detached garage, I knew in an instant that our reprieve from his drunken days of chaos was over.

Like -

When I was home for a break from college, and needed a ride to the bus station to get back to school, he was so drunk, my mother refused to ride the twenty miles to the bus station to see me off because it would have meant riding back with Daddy, who was flat out pissy drunk.  You see, she never learned to drive.  I drove the car to the station, but he would have to have driven it back home.  She knew she would be helpless and completely at his mercy on that drive home.  So she didn't go.  Of course, I didn't blame her.  Once Daddy and I arrived at the station, I went inside to wait on the bus.  Somehow he managed to stagger into the building, and when he did his pants fell to his ankles.  The embarrassment.  The shame.  The indignity . . . was palpable.  How he made it home alive and without killing someone else on the road was purely by the mercy of God.

These experiences are but a few that have shaped my life and my views of people who drink.  Of course, most folks don't allow themselves to fall into the "pissy drunk" category, but the assumption (wrong though it may be), is that's where they're headed until proven otherwise.

That's why it was so incredibly painful when I discovered that Ben and Frankie drank. Not because I thought they'd end up like my Dad, but because the possibility was too real in my eyes.  This is a topic I've covered many times with them, and it's not my intention to rehash old wounds, but simply to illustrate how all of our experiences - good or bad - go into shaping the people we become.

I share this not to make you feel bad if you're a drinker.  But hopefully, it's just a reminder that the things that happen when you're under the influence can/do have lasting effects.

Young, Gifted & Black

From The Atlantic - 

'What It Means to Be Young, Talented, and Black'

• EMILY ANNE EPSTEIN
 
• 7:00 AM ET
 
• 20 PHOTOS
 
• SPOTLIGHT

Sophia Nahli Allison defines her photography essay, Marching Together, by what it’s not. “This is not a story about an underfunded program or urban youth succeeding in band as a way to escape violence,” she said. Her images of Hillside High School’s award-wining marching band captures the students’ determination  and ambition, while simultaneouslycounteracting the stereotypically negative representation of black teens. They want to go to college. They want to win. This, she said, “is a visual exploration of what it means to be young, talented, and black.”

http://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2015/12/marching-together/419955/?utm_source=atl-daily-newsletter

Really Cool Lamps

Made in Sacramento!

http://www.chandewheel.com/about.html

Three Generations of Blacks in Russia

From The Root - 

Black in the USSR: 3 Generations of a Russian Family

Escaping the oppression of a racist America, a black scientist named Oliver Golden took Soviet citizenship in the 1930s and began a legacy for his family that endures in Russia today.

BY: STEVEN J. NIVEN

In 1932, the poet Langston Hughes spent Christmas in the “dusty, coloured, cotton-growing South” of Uzbekistan, then one of the Soviet Union’s Asian republics. Hugheshad been in Moscow, working on a film critical of American race relations, but the project was abandoned, in part because the Soviets were then seeking official diplomatic recognition and improved economic ties with the United States. After an exhausting 2,000-mile journey on frozen, ramshackle Russian trains, he arrived on Christmas Eve in Yangiyul, near Tashkent, “in the middle of a mudcake oasis frosted with snow,” and visited “a neat, white painted cottage,” where “it was jolly and warm.”

His hosts were Oliver Golden, a black Mississippian, and Bertha Bialek, the white New York-born daughter of Polish Jewish immigrants, who had prepared a traditional American meal capped off with pumpkin pie to celebrate the season—washed down, of course, with copious amounts of local cognac and vodka. Most of his fellow guests were black men and women. As he looked out his window on Christmas morning, Hughes saw some tall, brown-skinned Uzbeks on horseback, padding across the snowy fields, and was reminded of images he had seen in Sunday school when he was a boy in Kansas: “In their robes, these Uzbeks looked just like Bible characters, and I imagined in their stable a manger and a child.”

http://www.theroot.com/articles/history/2015/12/black_in_the_ussr_3_generations_of_an_african_american_family_in_the_soviet.2.html

A Priceless Comeback

From Now I Know -

Crease and Desist

OCTOBER 15, 2013

Major sporting events don’t want objects flying around the stands or onto the field. That sounds like a pretty good rule, as you don’t want fans or players to get hurt — that’d be bad for everyone involved. To avoid problems, even items which are generally harmless are often banned; the New York Yankees, for example, explicitly state that beach balls are prohibited. But generally speaking, such specificity isn’t required. The general rule makes enough sense and is easily enough enforced — usually. Unfortunately for one fan of the NFL’s Cleveland Browns, the team did not enforce the rule to his liking. So in 1974, he — an attorney — wrote the letter below, demanding action by threatening a lawsuit.

The letter, by attorney Dale O. Cox, spells out the grievance. Cox, a season ticket holder, was upset that other fans were flying paper airplanes “generally made out of the game program,” and tossing them around. Cox was concerned about “the risk of serious eye injury and perhaps an ear injury” that such paper projectiles could cause, so he asked the team to stop such behavior. And then there’s the legal threat: “I will hold you responsible for any injury sustained by any person in my party attending one of your sporting events.” Fighting words, in legal-speak.

The Browns’ general counsel, James Bailey, replied to Mr. Cox — that’s what would generally happen in a matter like this, and in this case, he did so by a letter dated just a few days later. But the letter didn’t inform the aggrieved Mr. Cox of the team’s decision to crack down on paper airplanes. It didn’t have any legalese in it, explaining the team’s view of the law. In fact, it didn’t say much of anything. Yet, it may be the best legal reply ever written. You can see it below.

A few years later, the Cleveland Scene, an alt-weekly, discovered the above letters (without explanation as to how), and the letter became a cultural meme of sorts. (It recently made its way into an episode of NPR’s Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me!, as a trivia question.) As absurd as Mr. Bailey’s response seems, it’s real. In early 2011, a reporter from the Cleveland Plain Dealer tracked down Bailey and Cox, both of whom recalled the response fondly. Cox even admitted to using a similar reply tactic “a couple times [himself] since.”

http://nowiknow.com/crease-and-desist/

A Voice of Reason From An Unlikely Source

Autistic Brothers Excel in Southern University Marching Band

Good Analogy

http://basedgodtookmyusername.tumblr.com/post/127107731092/good-cops

Wine Scanner

It you're like me, totally ignorant of wine, this app is for you.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/vivino-wine-scanner/id414461255?mt=8

Watch Out! BROTHERS BRING THE HOOD TO THE 'BURBS AT CHRISTMAS

Learn to Play Guitar

Just in time for the holidays for the music lover in your world.

"Sriracha" Love

This is a sensational hot sauce that has reached epic proportions in the universal love it has received.

I tried it for the first time a couple of days ago, and I concur.  I'm not a hot sauce person, but this stuff is good.

The trailer below is for a documentary on Sriracha that definitely peeked my interest in wanting to give this a try.  I'm glad I did.  The full movie (34 minutes) is linked below.




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXOAx58LBDo

A Christmas Commercial?

Can You Figure It Out?

Janis Joplin Movie Trailer

How to Calm a Crying Baby

Where was this guy when I needed him 34 years ago?

Getting in the Holiday Spirit

I love Christmas music, and coming in a close second is Christmas movies.  I thank God for the technology that allows me to access both.  I'm especially grateful for them because it is a wonderful reminder of how special this time of year is.

I know you're being inundated on all sides with Christmas this and Christmas that, and have been since before Halloween, but now that I'm away from that and have been for a while (I had my fourth year anniversary here last week!), I miss it.

This is a Muslim country, and although extremely tolerant of other religions, with Christmas trees all decorated in the malls, it's not the same.

So, to bring the holiday spirit closer to home, I savor the music and the movies.

Below is one of my favorite holiday movies, with a couple of songs featured in it.

Cheers!

Clever

As seen on Pinterest - 

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/424605071099272633/?utm_campaign=6d3f93&e_t=editorial_1093_61b40300000551b&utm_content=424605071099272633&utm_source=31&utm_term=2&utm_medium=2002

22 Surprising Facts About: Albert Einstein

Einstein 100 - Theory of General Relativity

Punny Map

This interactive map gives the names of businesses all over the US that are funny or punny or both.

http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/behold-the-ultimate-crowdsourced-map-of-punny-businesses-in-america?utm_source=Atlas+Obscura&utm_campaign=c55535058a-Newsletter_11_25_201511_25_2015&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_62ba9246c0-c55535058a-59905913&ct=t(Newsletter_11_25_201511_25_2015)&mc_cid=c55535058a&mc_eid=866176a63f

Smart Tats?

Luther

I don't think this trailer for the upcoming two-hour special does justice to the greatness that is the Luther series.  The three seasons (available on Netflix) are some of the smartest, most nuanced shows around.  If you're not interested in the acting or the premise (another cop show), watch it for Idris Elba.  He's amazing.

Empire Shopping

"What Would Cookie Do?" t-shirts -

Just in time for the holidays.

http://shop.fox.com/?v=empire

Al Green - Love and Happiness - Live Performance Video (High Quality)

Join me for this Throwback Thursday Jam -

Trailblazing Trumpeter

From The Sacramento Bee - 

Sacramento trumpeter Cynthia Robinson co-founded Sly and the Family Stone

The Family Stone, with Cynthia Robinson (center). Ross Brandes

BY CHRIS MACIAS

cmacias@sacbee.com

Cynthia Robinson, the trailblazing trumpeter who co-founded Sly and the Family Stone and later was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, died Monday in Sacramento following a battle with cancer. She was 71 years old. 

Robinson was a distinctive personality in a group known for defying musical boundaries. She was the rare female African American trumpeter to play in a chart-topping band, and her horn licks were hallmark to songs including “I Want to Take You Higher” and “Dance to the Music.”

http://www.sacbee.com/news/local/article46631655.html

Read more here: http://www.sacbee.com/news/local/article46631655.html#storylink=cpy

Happy Thanksgiving Wherever You Are

A New Kind of Card Game

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/forget-spades-you-need-to-play-this-fun-card-game-at-thanksgiving_565491f4e4b0258edb32fec1?utm_hp_ref=black-voices

http://www.cardsforallpeople.com/product/cards-for-all-people-original-pack

Great Thanksgiving Listen from StoryCorps & Google

For Your Viewing Pleasure

From The New Yorker -

Now Streaming: The Golden State Warriors

BY STEVE MCPHERSON

An excerpt -

After a historically dominant 2014-15 season that saw the Golden State Warriors secure the N.B.A. title and become only the tenth team in N.B.A. history to win sixty-seven or more games, it’s not entirely surprising that, this year, the squad has bolted out to a historic 15-0 record while outscoring opponents by 14.4 points per game. What is surprising is the landmark agreement the team has reached with Netflix: it will be releasing its entire season next weekend to better facilitate binge-watching.

“We try to stay abreast of current trends in media consumption,” N.B.A. commissioner Adam Silver said, at a press conference announcing the deal. “In this day and age, N.B.A. fans want to watch games when and how they like, so it just makes sense to release all sixty-seven of the Golden State Warriors’ remaining games at once.”

http://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/now-streaming-the-golden-state-warriors?mbid=nl_151124_Daily&CNDID=27124505&spMailingID=8286786&spUserID=MTE0Mjg5NDEzNjM4S0&spJobID=802375160&spReportId=ODAyMzc1MTYwS0

Short Story Vending Machines

http://magazine.good.is/articles/short-story-vending-machines-short-edition?utm_source=thedailygood&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=dailygood

Responding With Humor

From The Guardian -

National emergency? Belgians respond to terror raids with cats

An official request for citizens to avoid tweeting anything that could inform terrorists what is going on resulted in a national outbreak of pet pics

My favorite - Super Cat!

Preach!

Jill Scott Sings "Strange Fruit"

EZSTAX Clothing Organization System

Sweet Potato vs. Yam

NASA is Hiring Astronauts. Do You Qualify?

License Plate Rage

From The Morning News -

IH8YRST8
by Jess Stoner

Studying drivers across the country for signs of license-plate prejudice—or, why everyone loves Vermont drivers and hates Texans.

An excerpt -

I learned something new when we moved back to Colorado from Texas last year: People who live so far above sea level have razor-edged opinions about outsiders.

While I procrastinated for weeks in getting new license plates, drivers wouldn’t let me change lanes—sometimes informing me of their refusal with their middle fingers—one even gleefully made the Longhorns hand gesture when he cut me off.

I swear, I am a classically trained defensive driver. It wasn’t my driving. It was my Texas plates.

The prejudices that arise when drivers encounter different state license plates are largely unstudied. This is unfortunate because, according to my field research, they play a role in determining driver behavior and they reinforce stereotypes many drivers didn’t even realize they held.

For example, Coloradans’ dislike for Texans might be explained by the fact that they’re moving here. According to the Census Bureau, 24,431 people who lived in Texas in 2013 had listed Colorado as their place of residence a year later, versus the 18,277 Coloradans moving to Texas in that same period.

But Bill Marvel explained in a 2008 article for Denver’s 5280 magazine, “Don’t Mess With Colorado,” that the state’s hatred for all things Texas could be as ancient as the latter’s 19th-century “territorial ambitions.” Or that it might be the result of the real-life versions of The Simpsons’ Rich Texan who move north and mess with Coloradans’ livestock and screw over skiers and hikers by privatizing trails. Or maybe it’s simply a reaction to Texans like Walter Cliff of Amarillo, who was so pissed when he couldn’t find a Bud Light on his Colorado vacation in 2012 that he wrote a letter to the editor of the Durango Herald: “Heads up, Durango, not everyone likes that locally brewed beer.”

http://www.themorningnews.org/article/ih8yrst8

Making Art Accessible to the Visually Impaired

From The Daily Good -

3D Printing Brings Classical Artworks to the Blind and Visually Impaired

by DJ Pangburn

An excerpt - 

Dillon tells GOOD that he and his current company, Adventure Club, hit upon the idea of making art accessible to the visually impaired with Unseen Art. Under this project, which recently launched an Indiegogo campaign, artists volunteer to scan, model, and 3D-print classical artworks so that they can be experienced through touch by those who can’t experience the pieces visually.

http://magazine.good.is/articles/unseen-art-3d-print-classical-works-for-the-blind-visually-impaired?utm_source=thedailygood&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=dailygood

An Accident

On Thursday, there was a bad accident involving one of the teachers' buses that transport our teachers that live in Ruwais (an hour away; two hours roundtrip) and Ghyathi (an hour-an-a-half away; three hours roundtrip) to and from school.

Our little town doesn't have enough housing to support all of our teachers, so they have to live in these next neighboring towns.  If they choose to live in Ruwais, it is shared accommodations (three people living in four bedroom/four bath apartments). If they want single housing, then they must commute another half hour further.

The saving grace is that transportation is provided.

I don't care how you slice it though, the commute is tough.

Usually the bus is full, with teachers and their kids.  Because it was a Thursday, several people had driven so they can get home earlier, resulting in just a handful on the bus.

Side note - Thank God, special arrangements were made for me to live locally.  I live alone in an apartment next door to my school.

The roads are almost always filled with caravans of trucks taking goods to and fro. There isn't a railroad in this country, so this is the only way we can get merchandise that we need.  Trucks and buses must drive in the right lane, with cars using either lane.

On Thursday, a bus carrying four teachers, ran into the back of an 18-wheeler that was either stopped or had slowed way down.  (Currently, there are no shoulders to move over on, as there is construction going on for hundreds of miles in both directions, widening the roads).

The driver was instantly killed, and one of the two teachers from my school is in critical condition.  He was airlifted to Abu Dhabi to the nearest trauma center.  The other two teachers were from the local high schools - one from the girls' and the other from the boys'.

I was coming home from an appointment in Abu Dhabi when I got the call.  Two people were taken to Ruwais Hospital, and the other two (including the critical man) were taken to local hospital here.

I stopped by the hospital in Ruwais to check on those folks.  Thankfully, their injuries were minor, and after a few hours, they were released.

Then I drove to my town with plans to stop by the hospital to see the other two teachers.

What I saw when I drove up was heartwarming.

There were hundreds of people, most of the town it looked like, who were holding vigil at the hospital.  Scores of men, standing in clusters in the parking lot, were giving updates to new arrivals as they headed towards the main entrance.  Women were lining the walls solemnly holding each other and praying.

It was like this for hours.

At 8:00 pm the helicopter arrived to transport the critical patient to the city.  It took a couple of hours to get him from the room to the helicopter.  But as he was being wheeled down the hospital corridors, scores and more of men surrounded the bed and walked out with him.  When they got outdoors, the number grew even more.

It was an incredible sight to see.

In tough times, people come together.

It's human nature, evident in places far and wide, all over the world.

Coming to America

From Essence - 

Coming to America: My Personal Journey from Refugee to ESSENCE Editor

By Yolanda Sangweni

As I look at the Syrian refugees, spilling out onto European borders, desperate for a safe harbor, and listen to all the US politicians debating whether they’ll allow them into their states, I wonder who they are envisioning as these refugees. Do they see me and my family?  

My mother was a political prisoner in South Africa. 

She wasn’t as well-known as other political prisoners like Nelson Mandela, or the current South African president, Jacob Zuma, but she was one of the countless African activists whose resistance to the apartheid government was met with imprisonment. She certainly wasn’t a criminal. 

I was 9 years old when a group of policemen came banging on the door in the middle of the night, searching for her. They took her to the police headquarters and brought me with her. In later years, I would learn that this was the beginning of the psychological torture often inflicted on prisoners of conscience, because why else would you bring a 9-year-old child into a police station and make her watch as a close confidant—a man I considered an uncle—fingered my mother as the woman the police were searching for. 

“Yes, that’s her,” he said somberly.

The police regularly took my mother in for questioning about her political activity. The last time, in December 1986—the time they took me in with her—they held her for six months. It doesn’t seem long when you consider other activists, like Mandela, who were behind bars for most of their adult lives. To a 9-year-old child, those months were an eternity. And yet, we were among the lucky ones because my aunt lived in Harlem and had been petitioning the human rights group Amnesty International to start a letter-writing campaign. People around the world—people we’d never met—wrote impassioned letters to the South African government, pressuring authorities to either charge my mother or release her. It worked. 

I remember my mother’s elation, and panic, the days after her release. Joy at being reunited with her family, and anxiety at knowing that the police could be back at her door. It’s the psychological torture many activists often spoke of. Soon after her release, with little more than a few dollars and suitcases of our belongings, my mother and I were on our way to New York City. Amnesty International had helped secure us refugee status in America. 

And so, we were refugees. 

I’ll never forget the cantankerous immigration officers who treated us like we had the plague because of that stamp: “Refugee.”  

“Do you speak English?!” they shouted impatiently. 

“Do you have any money?” 

In my mother’s passport, which she saved as a keepsake until her death in 2012, it was written “$49.”

We came to America with $49. 

On those long immigration lines, my mother, the entrepreneur, the first to graduate from college among her siblings, the hope—was just another refugee, begging for entry. On those lines, lawyers, doctors, mathematicians, scientists, humbled themselves in the face of severe ignorance because they knew this was better than what they were leaving behind back home.

I think about this as I watch the Syrian refugee crisis and listen to politicians call for President Obama to bar them entry. Back when I first came to the U.S., the running thought was that African refugees were bringing AIDS. Today, Syrian refugees are said to be bringing terrorism to our shores. What is fact and what is prejudiced fiction?

I dare not say I have a solution to the crisis because I don’t, but I keep thinking about my own family, and the Syrian families who are going to unbelievable lengths in search of a better life.

I keep thinking about what would have happened had my mother and I not been allowed to come into the United States. She would have most likely gone back to prison. She may have become one of the countless South African activists who simply disappeared. I may have never become the woman I am today: fully African; wholly American. 

http://m.essence.com/2015/11/17/coming-america-my-personal-journey-refugee-essence-editor?xid=111815

Happy Birthday Zadie!

Actually Zadie's birthday was yesterday, Nov. 19th.  She turned the big 5 (Oh!).

Here's a birthday greeting from her cousin.  Too cute not to share.

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“They might have guns but we have flowers”