county fair

Today, Ellen took me and her kids (Joseph, Thomas, and Amelia) to the fairgrounds, where we picked up the things that I had entered into competition at the Creative Arts Building. I had entered two pastel paintings, one small afghan (crocheted granny squares), and two crocheted doilies. I won an "honorable mention" for the afghan and "best of class" for the still life seen here. The green ribbon says "best of class" on it but that's kind of hard to see.
I am very happy with the results of the fair. It was great fun to enter stuff and to win prizes! Also, when I went to the fair, I got to take a walk with a llama, which was fun, too!

World Trade Center (the movie)

My friend Lynn took me and four other people to see a preview of the movie "World Trade Center."
It's the story of two Port Authority police officers who were buried alive in the rubble on 9/11 and who were pulled out alive. The officers were Sergeant John McLoughlin (played by Nicholas Cage) and Will Jimeno (played by Michael Pena). It depicts vividly and graphically the officers' descent into the pits of hell or into something that looks much like one would imagine to be the pits of hell. It also tells the story of the panic of the families of the two officers, when they find out that their loved ones are missing.
"World Trade Center" was a very gritty movie that strove for complete realism. There was altogether too much realism for me. Every shake, bump, and bang that the officers experienced was reproduced on screen. This produced an effect that should not be felt by those of us who are prone to motion sickness. A few sound effects without the shaking camera view would have produced the desired results, without creating a sensation of vertigo in viewers.
Another weakness in the movie was that it didn't give me a chance to know who the characters were before the disaster occurred. It turned two men into anonymous victims, instead of interesting people who were trying to survive despite the tremendous odds against them. Their families were depicted as panic striken and frantic. Other than that, they came across as being complete strangers.
More effort at character development in the script would have made this a much stronger, more emotionally moving film.
The rescue effort, however, was portrayed in an interesting way. For me, the character of former marine David Carnes (played by Michael Shannon) seemed to be the most interesting. He came across as a Don Quixote type, tilting at windmills and singing, "Onward to glory we go!"
Carnes managed to lead rescuers to the two trapped police officers in a slightly mad, yet heroic-type effort.
"I am Staff Sergeant Carnes," he told the other rescuers as he strode confidently onto the rubble of the World Trade Center.
I remembered from the musical, "I am I, Don Quixote!"
The ex-Marine believed that destiny was calling him to take this action.
Don Quixote felt the same way.
The former Marine was entertaining.
The movie's entertainment value was not sufficient, however, for me to recommend it to anyone. In fact, it felt as if I were trapped in a long nightmare. When the movie ended, I couldn't wait to get out of the theater. Unfortunately, the waves of vertigo that had hit at the early part of the movie, when the building shook and threatened to collapse on the heads of the Port Authority police officers, had not subsided. I had to get up slowly to get my bearings.
If you want to see a movie that depicts the 9/11 disaster and some of the rescuers involved, I recommend 9/11, a documentary by Jules and Gedeon Naudet. Originally planned to be a documentary about a new firefighter in his probationary period, this movie shows life in a firehouse when the disaster occurs. The two brothers present the lives of the firefighters, especially 21-year-old Tony Benetatos, with warmth. What happens to these firefighters and to one of the film makers, who is missing for a brief amount of time, matters to viewers who have gotten to know them before the disaster strikes.
Read more about this movie at http://www.ambafrance-us.org/culture/tv/programs/naudet911.html

Not Quite the Trial of the Century

The date for my Big Trial had arrived. I was prepared to plead "no contest" to the charge of "violation of a lawful order" and to make a speech. I had come to the conclusion that "violation of a lawful order" was a charge too stupid to deserve much of a response.
I also intended to ask to be sentenced to "community service."
I felt as ready as I could be to go to court on the morning of July 21.
I got up early and packed my bag and I had breakfast.
Before long, it was time to go to the federal courthouse in Alexandria, Virginia.
When we arrived at the courthouse, Art informed me that the judge who was assigned to my case, Judge Theresa Buchanan, was a "hanging judge," who had no difficulty in sending protesters to jail for as long as six months.
Horrors!
I had not anticipated the possibility of being sent to jail. In fact, I was so confident that I would not be sent to jail that I had bought a round-trip ticket and was scheduled to return home that very evening. I was looking forward to going to my friend's family reunion and felt that a stay in jail would "cramp my style."
But still, I knew that there were always consequences when one chose to challenge the U.S. government's policies and that a jail sentence was always a possibility.
On the floor where the trial was to be held, a bunch of people were already clustered around the prosecutor. He was talking about the two choices that defendants could make in Judge Buchanan's court. Guilty or not guilty.
So much for the "no contest" plea.
I had to respond to this charge.
I toyed with the idea of pleading guilty and of saying, "Yes, I did it. I violated the order to stay in a little fenced-in area and protest for the benefit of my fellow protesters. I did it on purpose and I am proud of what I did and I am sure that I will do it again!"
I was told that proclamation of guilt would most likely annoy the judge and encourage her to send me to jail.
On the other hand, I could plead "not guilty."
I didn't believe that the order was lawful. Therefore, I had not violated a law. How could I plead guilty to violating a law that I had not violated?
I went into the courtroom with the other fourteen defendants when it was our turn.
There were two prosecutors and two separate trials for the protesters.
Two of the protesters were charged with "violation of a lawful order" for a protest that occurred at the Pentagon on April 13. The prosecutor said that he couldn't find one of the witnesses to testify against Brian De Rouen so he was requesting that his case be dismissed. "Dismissed!" said the judge, who simultaneously banged her gavel. Brian returned to the spectators' seats. It was Susan Crane's turn to be tried. The prosecutor had no trouble finding the witnesses to testify against her. Apparently, Judge Buchanan and Susan were acquainted.
Susan chose to defend herself. Her trial was relatively brief. At the end, the judge found her guilty. Judge Buchanan was trying to figure out a sentence for Susan, who said that she would not pay a fine and that she would not cooperate with terms of probation, especially the part about "following the law." "I'll follow God's laws," Susan declared. Judge Buchanan was not too impressed with that. "Thirty days in jail," announced the judge. "You are to be remanded to the custody of the U.S. marshals."
The U.S. marshal was ready to remove Susan from the courtroom at once. The second prosecutor asked that Susan be allowed to stay where she was as she had another trial that was about to begin. Judge Buchanan said that it was all right for Susan to remain in the courtroom for her second trial.
One of the defendants in the second trial, concerning the March 20 protest near the Pentagon, had chosen to plead guilty. He was fined $75, and he left the courtroom.
All of the other defendants in court on July 21 were stipulating as to identity. That meant that we acknowledged that we had crossed the fence on March 20 so that we could continue walking to the Pentagon to deliver a coffin to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.
Also, all of the defendants were ready to proceed "pro se" or without an attorney.
The prosecutor offered an opening statement and then one of the defendants, Maria Allwine, made an opening statement, about the war, Nuremberg Principles, and first amendment guarantees of freedom of speech and freedom to peacefully assemble and to ask the government for redress of grievances. How could an order that so obviously violated our first amendment rights be lawful?
The prosecution presented one witness, Major William Stout, of the Pentagon Police. After the prosecution finished asking him questions, one of the defendants, Michelle Grise, began cross examining him. The cross examination went on and on. Among the things that it revealed was that there were approximately 100 police on duty that day. Major Stout said that he had designed the "free speech zone" for us. He admitted that it would be difficult for people in the Pentagon to see us or hear us. He said that there was another "free speech zone" near the Pentagon metro stop but that it was determined that we could not be there for the March 20 protest.
In fact, I and a number of others had been at the "free speech zone" near the Pentagon metro stop earlier that morning. I had noticed then that more police were around than usual and that they seemed prepared to make arrests. They were sporting plastic handcuffs on their belts and there were a variety of barricades that were not normally at that spot.
Michelle questioned Major Stout for quite some time. His story became more and more disjointed as she cross examined him. When she was finished, a few other defendants asked Major Stout a few questions.
After Major Stout was excused from the stand, the prosecution rested its case. One of the defendants, Jean Athey, made a motion for a directed judgment of acquittal. That is a standard motion in any trial. Weren't we surprised when Judge Buchanan said that the prosecution failed to identify any of us as having been at the scene. "Case dismissed," she announced and banged her gavel loudly.
We were stunned when the trial ended so abruptly. The prosecution was even more stunned.
The U.S. marshal removed Susan.
The rest of us left/
And thus ended the trial that was to be the Trial of the Century but actually was more like the Trial of the Moment.

a week in washington, day three

Mary and I returned to the Palestine Center for lunch (delicious falafels and refreshing lemonade) and a talk, titled "Hamas, its Neighbors, and the Quartet." The speaker was Nadia Hijab, senior fellow and co-director of the Institute for Palestine Studies (Washington office). She has written several books, including Womanpower: The Arab debate on women at work (1988) and Citizens Apart: A Portrait of Palestinians in Israel (1990). She has also worked as a United Nations development offer and a journalist.
Ms. Hijab presented the history of various peace treaties between Israel and the Palestinians, paying special attention to the Oslo accords. She also discussed the concept of human rights. She defined three important human rights as being self-determination, freedom from military occupation, and the ability for persons to return to their homes. She said, "People deprived of their rights will always resist." The question is: will the resistance be violent or nonviolent?
According to Ms. Hijab, the Palestinians are resisting:

• the wall that Israel is building that "separates people." It seaprates "Palestinian areas from Israeli areas and Palestinian areas from (other) Palestinian areas." She suggested that the purpose of the wall was for Israel to be able to annex land and resources, especially access to water, a scarce commodity.
• the economic siege, which didn't end when Israel withdrew from Gaza. Produce could not be transported, and it was left to rot. Ms. Hijab quoted one Israeli as saying, "We have pulled out of Gaza and have left it a wasteland."
• the wholesale detention of Palestinians in Israeli jails. Many are arrested for no reason at all and held for long periods of time without charges being filed against them. There are 10,000 prisoners in Israeli jails.

Ms. Hijab described Hamas as the main Palestinian organization that is still resisting Israeli occupation. She said that Hamas first used only military resistance. It has evolved to including political, diplomatic, and economic resistance. Hamas did this because many people were "tired of suicide bombings and of the retaliation that followed." She said that Hamas agreed to support a two-state solution, "a big shift for Hamas, which previously wanted to liberate all of Palestine."
Ms. Hijab said that Hamas won the most recent election because it promised a clean government, without the corruption that characterized previous Palestinian governments. But Hamas never had the chance to "prove itself and run a clean government."
Not all resistance against Israeli occupation has been violent. Ms. Hijab said that many Palestinians have engaged in nonviolent resistance and many Israelis have joined them in this.
Then Ms. Hijab discussed the ongoing crisis in the middle east. She said that both Hamas and Hezbollah are characterized as "terrorist organizations" because they "use violence against civilians." In this conflict, all participants (Israel, Hamas, and Hezbollah) have violated international law, Ms. Hijab pointed out.
"Where do we go from here? The region is doomed without a comprehensive solution. How many people will die before this reality is recognized?" Ms. Hijab asked.

After the talk, I took the Metro to Union Station so that I could go to the Postal Museum. There I purchased baseball player stamps, and I mailed my entry form to the Erie County Fair (which has been renamed "America's Fair"). I saw an exhibit of artwork done by young people, aged 13 to 17, for a duck stamp competition. The media used were oil paints, acrylic paints, and colored pencils. When I left, I answered a survey and was given a free book. I returned to Union Station, where I saw a horde of kids leaving. All of the girls were clutching identical pink Victoria's Secret bags.
Then I went to the School of the Americas Watch office for a party for Christy Pardew, who was leaving her position as communications coordinator. I was given books, videos, and other materials for my upcoming talks on SOA/WHINSEC and on my own experiences of working to close that military training school.
After dinner at a friend's house, I returned to the Catholic Worker house, and day number three of my adventure had come to a close.

a week in Washington, day two

Wednesday, July 19, was my tourist day. I grabbed my camera, my sketchbook, and my "fat lil notebook," and I was on my way. After a ride on the green line of the famous five-color Metro system, I headed to the National Archives. Each line gets a different color: red, yellow, blue, green, and orange. The lines go to different places in Washington, D.C., Virginia, and Maryland. It reminds me of a color wheel. The only one that is missing is purple but, maybe, one of these days, a purple line will be opened.
But, I digress (one of my best skills). After I got off of the metro, I went straight for the National Archives. There I saw an exhibit titled "Eyewitness: American Originals from the National Archives." I obtained a small audio device and went into the exhibit. The device is easy to operate, so I had an audio tour of the exhibit. On display was a sampling of letters, statements, diary entries, and notes from people recording historical events. Some of the people were very well known, while others were not. Most of the documents were written but there were also a few recorded documents.
Among the many documents on display were:

• a letter from Thomas Jefferson, written in July of 1789, describing the storming of the Bastille and the violence and chaos that followed,
• a letter from a fugitive slave, John Boston, dated January 12, 1862, to his wife Elizabeth. In the letter, Mr. Boston told his wife that he had found refuge with a New York regiment.
  
• John C. Fremont's report on his 1842 expedition to the Rockies, as written by his wife, Jessie Benton Fremont, on March 1, 1843.
• Laura Ingalls Wilder's diary entries (dated 1894) on her move with her husband Alonzo and eight-year-old daughter Rose from South Dakota to Missouri.
• Lt. Col. Dwight D. Eisenhower's November 13, 1919, summary report on a transcontinental motor convoy.
• Red Cross worker Marie Adams' June 7, 1945, document describing starvation conditions during the final days of a Japanese internment camp in the Philippines. She said that, when she was in the camp, from May 1942 to February 1945, she worked in the hospital.
• Pfc Harold Porter's May 7, 1945, letter to his parents describing the horrifying scenese at the Dachau concentration camp when it was liberated. The letter was written on Waffen SS stationery.
• John Lewis' testimony in Federal court about the March 7, 1965, march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, where he suffered a skull fracture after being hit by a billy club. He is now a member of Congress from Georgia.
• Memo of a telephone conversation between President George H. W. Bush and German Chancellor Helmut Kohl on the reunification of Germany, on October 3, 1990.

And much more.
In the National Archives, I also saw the original Declaration of Independence, U.S. Constitution, and Bill of Rights. They were all faded but what was left was preserved in dim light under glass.

After leaving the National Archives, I walked through the Butterfly Habitat Gardens. On a plaque was this statement: When butterflies grace the garden, they send the spirit soaring. Four different types of habitats are featured at this garden: wetland, wood's edge, back yard, and meadow.
My next stop was to the Arts and Industries Building. It was still closed. So I sat outside and did some sketching.
After that, I returned to the Catholic Worker house.
In the evening, I went with a friend, Mary, to the Palestine Center to see two movies. They are part of a film series being presented at the Palestine Center.
The first movie that we saw was a short satire, called "Chic Point." It was presented as a fashion show, with a runway. The models were all men. They demonstrated fashion statements that were appropriate to get them across an Israeli check point. When they cross the check point, they have to show their abdomens to prove that they aren't wearing bomb belts. The models used various devices to more readily show off their abdomens. It was a very entertaining show of tummies, fashion, and creativity.
The second movie that we saw was a documentary called "Improvisation." The movie is about three brothers in the Joubran family. They are musicians and they play the 'oud, an Arab traditional instrument that bears some likeness to the mandolin. The three brothers are seen with their extended family in a variety of settings. They are also seen practicing for concerts. The three brothers are very different in many ways. One is married and has a bright, outspoken little daughter. One brother is a violin maker. Their passions run in different directions. One is passionate about politics, while another one is passionate about his girlfriend.
The filmmakers follow the brothers from Nazareth to Ramallah to Paris. It was moving an fascinating, offering a glimpse into the lives of the musicians and of a completely different culture, including a snapshot into the life of people in Ramallah, a besieged city. The documentary was directed by Raed Andoni, and it was released in 2005.
And that ended day number two of the Big Adventure.

a week in Washington, day one

Last week, I left toasty Western New York to head to even hotter Washington, D.C. I had an appointment with a magistrate judge in the U.S. District Court in Alexandria, Virginia, that I had to keep on Friday. I'd like to say that I was looking forward to the "Trial of the Century" or, at the very least, the "Trial of the Decade." Actually, no, that's not true. I'd been charged with "violation of a lawful order" on March 20, when I crossed a fence near a Pentagon parking lot. I was part of a group that was attempting to meet with Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld on the third anniversary of George W. Bush's pre-emptive war against Iraq. We were bringing a handmade coffin and lots of questions. About fifty of us were arrested shortly after we crossed that fence.
Our only other alternative was to stand on the other side of the temporary barricades and express our opinions to one another. It was very obvious that no one in the Pentagon could either see us or hear us.
Hence, the court date. I was so confident that the trial would be over quickly that I had a return ticket home for later that evening.
I arrived on Tuesday, traveling by plane, bus, and metro. I enjoyed a relaxing and free (!) ride on the bus, which passed fields full of summer flowers, including black eyed susans, daisies, and sunflowers; cornfields; the dairy research facility... Outside of the metro station, a dropped lollipop sat melting in the hot sun. The heat felt like a wall. I had to keep going, however, so I got on the train, sitting near two young women who had loads of luggage and were conversing with one another in German.
When I got off the train, I met up with someone who told me about a demonstration that would take place early that evening in front of the White House. The issue was Israel's war on two fronts, with Hamas and with Hezbollah.
That evening, I went with the group from the Dorothy Day Catholic Worker house to the demonstration. We brought along Mary, who had been staying at the house and who was doing an internship with the Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Coalition (TASSC), Betty (sister of Catholic Worker Art Laffin), and four students from a Baltimore youth group. Mary told the students about TASSC and about how many of the torture survivors are young people, just like them. She said that they are students and that they engage in sports and other activities and, if you look at them, you wouldn't have a clue that they have been through such a terrible ordeal. But the torture is in their memories and in their nightmares and is hard to forget. That is one of the reasons for TASSC, to give support to people who often feel alone with their terrible memories and their nightmares. Another reason is to work for the abolition of torture throughout the world.
We arrived at the demonstration, which was already in progress. People were marching in circles and chanting. They carried signs and the flags of Palestine, Lebanon, and the United States. Messages on the signs included: "Jewish Voices for Peace," "Stop excusing Israeli attacks on civilians," "American $$$ fund Israeli tanks," and "Give diplomacy a chance."
When I started marching with Kathy, a Catholic Worker, in the circle on the street, I met up with Father Louis Vitale, who was released during the spring from jail after serving six months for crossing the fence at Fort Benning in November 2005. He said that, despite having been sentenced to serve his sentence in a federal prison, he spent his entire term in county jails. He is in Washington, D.C., to fast with the Code Pink group. They started a "Bring the Troops Home Fast" on the Fourth of July and intend to continue the fast until some time in September. Louis looked and sounded strong, though very thin.
I also met a man named Mohammed. He said that he was from Morocco, where people of several religions, mainly Muslim, Christian, and Jewish, live together in peace. He spoke passionately for peace and said, "We have one God." I expressed an interest in visiting Morocco some day and he said that I would enjoy visiting his country.
I also met a woman named Mona. She is an artist who lives in Washington, D.C. She is originally from Alexandria, in Egypt. She has a website at www.monaart.com. Her drawings and paintings are colorful and a delight to see so I suggest that you take a look at that website.
At the demonstration, I took photographs and wasn't sure whether I felt like a photojournalist or a tourist. Maybe a little bit of both.
It was one of the hottest protests that I had ever participated in. Later on, I found out that the temperature was 97 degrees, with a heat index of 104.
Back at the Catholic Worker house, one of the students, Ryan, serenaded us with singing and guitar music. Some of his songs were original compositions. Ryan is fourteen years old and has been playing the guitar since he was seven.

Sunday in the park with alice

On Sunday, I put my music in a backpack and headed off to church. I gave myself almost an hour and a half to get there because... well... walking tourists are easily distracted!
As I walked down Linden Avenue, I noticed a large, hand-painted sign stuck in a lawn in front of a house. "Stop the war" was written on it in red lettering. It was a sturdy sign and I hoped that many people saw that message, as they traveled on Linden Avenue.
I then turned down Colvin Avenue and passed the fire house, walked under the railroad bridge, crossed Amherst Street on what looked like a brand-new crosswalk, and entered Delaware Park. I had to walk around a little bitty fence. But walking around fences is one of my talents! I have managed to walk around and crawl under a variety of fences, either to prove a point (at Fort Benning, for example) or to have an adventure.
Delaware Park was full of people enjoying the pleasurable weather of late spring. Contrary to public opinion, it doesn't snow in Buffalo 365 days of the year! Um. And it's not true that the only two seasons in Buffalo are Winter and the Fourth of July! But I digress.
In the park, I saw people walking, jogging, riding in-line skates, riding bicycles, playing tennis, and walking dogs. Some men were getting ready for a baseball game. They were all indulging in batting practice, each one swinging bats at nothing, as no one was pitching. I walked around part of the walking path that goes around baseball diamonds, tennis courts, and a golf course. Then I headed to the bridge that would take me over Delaware Avenue. I did so without hesitation, even though it was a windy day and I'm afraid of heights.
A man was walking ahead of me. He was already on the bridge. I followed him. If he's not scared to walk over the bridge, I won't be scared, either. Eeek. It's really high up. No it's not. That's just my overly active imagination taking charge. But still. I don't like bridges. OK, I won't look down. I discovered that I was walking faster and faster and faster. My goal was to reach the speed limit sign. I can do that. Oh my, I'm starting to sound like the Little Engine that Could.
Sure enough, I reached the speed limit sign and walked down the stairs and under the bridge. Over and under in one trip. I then headed off to the other side of Delaware Park. Delaware Park was the crown jewel of the Buffalo Park System designed by Frederick Law Olmsted. A number of years ago, the Scajaquada expressway was built, and that expressway divided the park in half. Why anyone would divide a park in half with an expressway is a mystery to me. But that's what happened. I don't like it, but it can't be undone. I don't think.
In the park, the first thing that I noticed was that the crab apples were starting to grow. Mmmm, crab apples. In the fall, I will have a feast every time that I walk through the park. I remembered that, when I was in the federal prison camp in Danbury, I used to pick crab apples from the trees and eat them up at once. I did that until the geese got aggressive and started protecting their supply of the crab apples that had fallen beneath the trees. They hissed and threatened to bite when I went under the trees. I picked apples fast and returned to my Big Government Job... environmental improvement engineer! (picking up litter)
I hope that Delaware Park doesn't fill up with aggressive geese this fall!
I continued to walk and headed to the path that takes me past Hoyt Lake. The area was full of life and color... purples, yellows, lavenders, pale blues, pinks, reds, many shades of green... As I fingered a primrose, a dog and human approached me. The human told me that the golden retriever's name was Molly and that she was a very sociable dog. She looked at me with happy anticipation, and I immediately began to pet her. She stood and enjoyed the massage that I gave her.
Soon, it was time to continue on my way. I thought that I would take a look at the rose garden. It was in full bloom, with purple, red, pink, white, and yellow roses in a variety of beds. I took photographs and then walked toward the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. Crossing the street there is a bit of an adventure in mind reading. One never knows if the drivers are going to think that the stop sign really means something or if it's nothing more than some sort of bizarre decoration on the side of the road. When the first driver went past the stop sign without even pretending to slow down, much less stop, I knew that I had to be either careful, fast, or both in getting across the street. Fortunately, a polite driver stopped and motioned me to go, which I did.
I walked past the art gallery and soon found myself on Elmwood Avenue. This is where I could really indulge in window shopping. Lots of store windows with many colorful things inside beckoned me to stop and look. There were clothing, toys, books, paintings... many attractive things to see. There was also too much litter on the street. I have disliked litter since I was eight years old, which was... um... a long time ago! Some of the trees were surrounded by a large display of weeds, while other trees were surrounded by attractive perennials. I also saw big flowers, colorful ground cover, and large stone planters in front of businesses and houses. It wasn't all a peaceful, calm Sunday stroll, however. An ambulance screeched to a stop in front of a house, followed by a fire truck, even though I could see no evidence of a fire.
I had to keep going, despite my overwhelming curiousity to find out why the ambulance and fire truck were both in front of a house that was most definitely not on fire.
As I walked down Highland Avenue, I saw a cat sitting on a porch. The cat saw me and walked right to me. It was a small black and white cat with long fur.
"meow."
"Hi cat." I began to pet the cat. It rolled on the ground, catching twigs and dust in its fur.
I failed to resume petting the cat.
"MEOW!"
I petted the cat, who continued to roll on the ground.
I was late to the pre-church practice. I had to keep going.
"MEOW!
"Sorry, cat. It's time to go." So I went and the cat stayed on the lawn near the sidewalk, rolling happily and collecting more twigs and dust in its fur.
I arrived at Blessed Sacrament Church, ready to sing... and sure enough, that's exactly what I did.

Niagara County Adventures

On Monday morning, I went to my friend Jinni's house for a "working visit." Jinni is a professional artist and art teacher. Her specialty is watercolor paints. She makes large painting with lots of bright, cheerful colors. It is a delight to watch her paint. As a teacher, Jinni is enthusiastic and always encouraging. She has positive comments to make about all of her students' paintings, regardless of whether they are beginner or advanced painters.
On our way to Jinni's house, we stopped at the house of a man who works as a nurse during the night and grows and sells plants during the day. He is always friendly and has a big smile. His display cases are full of plants, mostly of impatiens of nearly every hue, although pinks and purples and whites seem to predominate. He had run out of certain flowers, including portulacas and snapdragons. Spring came early this year, the man explained, and these plants were completely sold out. Jinni and I selected a variety of plants to put into containers around her garden. The price was very reasonable, and the man gave us one extra plant just to take along with us.
At Jinni's house, we got to work on the gardening tasks. Jinni arranged her flowers in a bunch of containers, and I started to weed the flower beds. I took a brief break to do a radio interview with Joe Schmidbauer and Grady Hawkins, who have a daily program called "The Voice of Reason" on "Newstalk 1270." The topic was the bill before Congress to suspend operations and investigate the instruction offered at the Western Hemisphere of Security Cooperation (formerly known as the School of the Americas). The bill, HR 1217, is called the Latin American Military Training Review Act of 2005. It was introduced by Rep. Jim McGovern (D-Mass.) and has 133 cosponsors. I talked for about five minutes and encouraged people to call their Congressional representatives to ask them to vote for this piece of legislation. Then I went back to my weeding activities.
It was midday, and the sun was straight overhead. After about four hours, I had finished weeding all of the flower beds in the front yard. I had also weeded underneath the large tree in front of the house.
It was time to change activities. We got in the car and started on our next adventure. Not too far away from Jinni's house, we saw a bunch of cars and vans stopped by the side of the road. People were standing around something, but at first, we couldn't see what it was. When we got closer, we saw that a car was in a ditch. The passenger door was open and was facing the sky. The people seemed to be trying to get someone out of the car. No rescue vehicles or police were anywhere in sight. There was nothing we could do so we drove past this bizarre spectacle. We then went to a Chinese restaurant, where we had an early dinner with our friend, Barbara. A woman, Iris, approached me at the restaurant. She had heard me speak on the radio. I hope that she called her Congressional representative.
After dinner, we went to North Tonawanda, where we were planning to meet up with a group of artists to have an outdoors painting session. North Tonawanda and the City of Tonawanda are considered to be "twin cities." They sit on either side of the Erie Canal. North Tonawanda is on the Niagara County side, and the City of Tonawanda is on the Erie County side. We were headed to the Gateway Park, on the canal. It is a good spot for taking walks, bicycle rides, boat rides, and painting.
We had arrived early, ahead of the other artists. We left the car in North Tonawanda and walked over the bridge to a McDonald's in the City of Tonawanda. The McDonald's was sparsely populated. Jinni bought a beverage and we sat down at a table. A man sat alone at a table nearby. Another man walked by us. He was tall, big boned, and had long, blond hair. He had a collection of tattoes and a tiny beard. He also had a big, energetic voice.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine," Jinni said.
It turned out that he was speaking to the man at the other table. The two of them began talking about catching large fish. The blond man's name was Spike and the man at the table was named John. John described a sturgeon that he had caught. It weighed eighty pounds and was THIS BIG! Spike had to go order something. At the same time, Jinni also needed to get something. John continued to tell me about his big fish.
Jinni and Spike returned at the same time. Jinni finished her beverage, and we left to look for the other artists. We eventually found them on the Tonawanda side of the canal. The artists had brought along a tablecloth, popcorn, cookies, beverages, and cups. They had transformed a picnic table into a party table. Including Jinni and me, there were six artists in the group. Before long, we had placed our chairs so that we could face the scenes that we wanted to depict in our paintings. We began to draw. Jinni and I started to work at once. Jinni is a very fast artist. She sketched in a scene of water and buildings on the far side of the canal and was soon happily painting. I am a much slower artists. I started to draw the Long Homestead, with its many windows and doors. I drew and drew and drew... stairs... banisters... shrubs... bushes... and, every now and then, I could hear snippets of conversation from the other artists, who were bunched as a group and were facing the canal.
It seemed like almost no time before the sun was ready to go down, and we were ready to leave. I never painted anything as I had spent so much time sketching. The group of talkers commented that they got very little drawing or painting done in the time allotted.
The group made plans to meet at the house of one of the conversational artists. I've never been to her house but I was told that it is in a scenic area, and there is much to draw and paint there. Also, this artist is a great hostess, and everyone loves going to her house.
As Jinni and I walked to her car, we saw a dog standing near a car. The dog had giant ears and looked like a happy, well-contented dog. We both wished that would could paint a portrait of this dog.
I slept in Jinni's studio. It was full of bright colors... Jinni's paintings on the wall and several Japanese lanterns in the window.
On Tuesday morning, I took a walk in the park across the street from the house that Jinni and her husband Howard live in. The park is called Fairmount Park. It is a fairly small park with a pond, baseball diamonds, a walking track, and a basketball court. People were busily working on lawn maintenance. They were using riding lawnmowers and weed whackers.
In the middle of the park is a small cemetery. It has only about five graves in it. All of the deceased were members of the Stieg family. Some of the markers had faded to the point where they were hard to read. The one in the center was the largest one. The individual buried in that grave had lived and died in the nineteenth century.
I had brought a sketchbook and a permanent marker. Jinni had recommended the permanent marker. She said that sketching with something that can't be erased helps an artist/student artist to think. I sketched several pictures, one of a picnic shelter, one of part of a basketball court, and the third of geese in the pond.
After visiting the park, I returned to Jinni's house, where I continued weeding, this time in the back yard. Before long, Howard came home from work for a lunch break. He said that he was very happy about all of the weeding that had been done. After lunch, Howard returned to work, and Jinni and I went to a church in Pendleton, the Pendleton Center United Methodist Church, where Jinni taught an art class. We made paintings of scenes that included Japanese lanterns. Jinni had brought pictures with lanterns as well as a few lanterns from her window.
We drew and painted and talked. As usual, I spent all of my time sketching and none of my time painting. I had a large piece of watercolor paper and I was determined to fill every inch of it. I didn't quite succeed in doing that, but I did manage to make a large picture.
We stopped the art class early to have a little party for Peggy, who had worked for the past fifteen years for the church. Her job involved cleanup and maintenance mostly. The church had grown and the workload had also grown. Peggy also works at the homes of elderly people, helping them with chores that they can no longer do. The party was a big surprise for Peggy, and she seemed very happy with the food and the gifts. One of the gifts was a quilt that had been made by people in the sewing class and was signed by some of the sewers and artists who had become friends with Peggy.
Peggy talked about some of her upcoming plans. She and her husband were going to take a vacation in Maine within the next few weeks. In the autumn, she was planning on going to Nicaragua to bring some clothing and other things to donate. She has been traveling to Nicaragua with a nun from Buffalo for several years. Peggy calls it her "mission."
After the party, Jinni took me back home and thus ended my Niagara County adventure.

fasting to remember torture victims

Today, the first of June, is the start of torture awareness month.
Torture is still practiced by governments around the world. It is brutal and horrifying. Torture leaves more scars than the ones that can be seen. People who survive torture always carry that experience with them. Some torture survivors are able to talk about their experiences, to tell the world that this practice must be ended forever. Carlos Mauricio is one of these individuals. In June 1983, Carlos was teaching science at the University of El Salvador when the police took him out of his classroom. He was held for two weeks and constantly interrogated and tortured. After his release, he fled to the United States. He now teaches science in a high school in California.
Carlos and two other torture survivors won a lawsuit against two Salvadoran generals, who had retired to Florida. They are Generals Jose Guillermo Garcia (minister of defense from 1979 to 1983) and Carlos Eugenio Vides Casanova (director-general of the Salvadoran National Guard and later minister of defense).
Read more about Carlos' story and his lawsuit at http://www.cja.org/forSurvivors/CarlosforSurvivors.shtml
Carlos has started a project, called the "Stop Impunity Coalition," to end torture throughout the world.
Another organization that tells the world that the practice of torture can never be tolerated is the Torture Awareness and Survivors Support Coalition International (see http://www.tassc.org). It is an organization that was founded for and by torture survivors. Its executive director, Sister Dianna Ortiz, is a torture survivor. A missionary teacher in Guatemala in 1989, Sister Dianna was kidnapped and brutally tortured by the military. She has told the story of her torture in a book, "The Blindfold's Eye" (published by Orbis Books in October 2002). TASSC International provides support and hope for torture survivors and their families.
I first met Sister Dianna in the fall of 1987, when we both were students at an Antigua, Guatemala, language school. I remembered Sister Dianna as a sweet, adventurous young lady with a delightful sense of humor. Years passed, and we did not meet again until the fall of 2005, in Washington, D.C. Sister Dianna's mission has changed, but she is still the sweet, kind individual I met in Guatemala in 1987.
There are so many others who have been tortured and who have been unable to tell their stories. Some were killed by their torturers. Others, unable to live with the physical pain and the emotional scars left by their torturers, committed suicide. Many survivors go about the business of every day life and keep their painful memories stored inside of themselves. It is too hard to talk about it. Sister Dianna said that retelling the story of one's torture means reliving that torture.
This is the month to remember all torture victims, both those who survived and those who did not. It is a time to remember survivors who are able to share their stories and those who walk in silence.
It is a time to remember that the United States, which claims to be the shining beacon of democracy, has been implicated for practicing torture. The events that occurred at Abu Ghraib are not isolated incidents. The United States has been accused of operating secret prisons all over the world. Allegedly, the sites for these prisons were in Egypt, Jordan, and Eastern Europe. For five years, the United States has operated a detention center at Guantanamo Bay. According to Amnesty International, detainees in Guantanamo, who are from 35 countries, have been held in a "legal black hole, without access to any court, legal counsel, or family visit."
Detainees allege that they have been subjected to torture and other cruel treatment.
The United Nations also has harsh words of criticism for the country that invaded Iraq to bring that nation democracy. The UN Committee Against Torture released a report on May 18, 2006, also criticized the United States for sanctioning the use of various torture techniques, including waterboarding and short shackling. You can read this eleven-page report at http://www.extras.timesonline.co.uk/un_report_190506.pdf
Amnesty International has called for the immediate closure of the Guantanamo Bay detention center. Amnesty International said, "Guantanamo Bay has become a symbol of injustice and abuse in the U.S. administration's 'war on terror.' It must be closed down."
How can the United States "spread democracy" while, at the same time, commit one human rights violation after another?
As a U.S. citizen, I ask my government to accept responsibility for its human rights violations.
One of the actions that I have chosen is to participate in a one-day fast, organized by TASSC International. It is a small sacrifice for people who have suffered so much.
Perhaps with enough attention, the practice of torture can be ended, forever.
Please join me.
Please check the TASSC International website to see what you can do to help end the practice of torture.

buffalo sabres

Wow. What can I say? The Sabres are awesome. They and their opponent, the Carolina Hurricanes, are making this NHL Eastern Conference finals a great series. The 2-1 win for the Sabres in sudden-death overtime was thrilling.
The two teams will be back in Raleigh, North Carolina, tomorrow. Game seven... the last game of the series... of the season for one of the teams... it'll be good...
Thanks for the great entertainment, Sabres and Hurricanes.
post script: it is now the second of june, and the series is over. The Hurricanes go on to play the Edmonton Oilers in the Stanley Cup series, and the Sabres go home.
I am disappointed that the Sabres didn't win, but happy that they made it this far. Only their most die-hard fans (one of them being me) expected them even to make it to the playoffs. The Sabres played with great energy and truly put their hearts into the game. It was a pleasure to watch them, even when they were losing. They never gave in or offered any excuses.
Who knows? Maybe next year, the Sabres will win the Stanley Cup.
Thank you for a great season, Sabres.

Salem J. Simon

As Memorial Day is coming, I thought that this would be a good time to remember those who have gone before us. My friend Ellen's father recently passed away. I had known him as a cheerful man who loved music and his large family. He and his wife Regina were blessed with eleven children.
I asked Ellen to tell me more about her father. This is what she told me.
Salem J. Simon was born on October 1, 1923, the son of Lebanese immigrants. He was one of ten children. As a small child, he spoke only Arabic in the family's Western New York home. His father was an itinerant salesman, and the family was never well off. When Salem went to school, he learned to speak English. He served in the U.S. Army during World War II and was sent to various parts of Asia. He also spent some time in India, where he met a young Albanian nun. At the time, she was establishing her ministry among the poorest of the poor. Her name was Sister Teresa. Eventually, she would become well-known as Mother Teresa. Ellen said that her father was horrified by the abject poverty of the people of India. This experience, she said, shaped her father's life. He was always kind to homeless people on the street and never rejected anyone. Ellen reported that her father's kindness extended to shy young ladies at dances. He asked the young ladies who were sitting by themselves for at least one dance so that they would have the experience of dancing with a gentleman.
Salem earned a college degree and then went on to law school in New York City. He married the former Regina Clements, and the couple had their first child, Mariam, in 1950. Eventually, Salem returned to Western New York, where he was employed by Niagara Mohawk, first in the Personnel Department and later in the Law Department. He spent his entire working career as a corporate lawyer with Niagara Mohawk.
The Simons moved out of their first Buffalo house after they "filled it up." They moved to a larger house in North Buffalo. They raised their family there, attending a neighborhood church and sending their children to public school. Often the family sang together, in four parts, with some of the children playing piano and guitar.
After a long career with Niagara Mohawk, Salem retired. He and Regina moved to Florida, where they enjoyed their retirement. They spent their summers in Western New York and were thrilled to greet new grandchildren as they were born. Regina Simon knitted mittens for each of the grandchildren every Christmas until she passed away in 2002.
Salem Simon died peacefully, surrounded by his children. He was eighty-two years old.

Buckhorn Island State Park

Two days ago, I walked through Buckhorn Island State Park, at the northern tip of Grand Island, N.Y. The park is now full of sound and color. The flowering bushes are covered in pinks, yellows, and a variety of other colors. The bird songs come from high in the sky, from the ground, and from the water. Young green cattails are growing tall, amidst the dried out cattails of last season. Tiny bunches of grapes are starting to form on the vines that are intertwined with trees and fences. The grapes grow wild there and are full of seeds and sweetness.
At the end of the path, a small piece of land that juts out into the Niagara River, the birds congregate in large numbers. They are mostly seagulls and geese although a few blue herons can be spotted in the group. The seagulls take off in groups and fly in circles over the park and nearby Navy Island, which belongs, in title, to Canada, and, in reality, to the birds. The seagulls' screams fill the air, mingling with the honking of the geese. The geese all have families now. The two adult geese and the group of goslings swim in tight clutches, near the shores.
It is because of these birds and the songbirds that call out their melodious messages from the tops of the tall trees that Buckhorn Island State Park has been designated an Important Bird Area and a Wildlife Sanctuary. It is also a restored wetland. Much life teems in the park's waters. Occasionally, a small snake can be seen slithering across the path. Once, I found a snake sitting in the middle of the trail. I bent down to take a closer look. It permitted me to take its picture before it slid into the woods.
A snake that poses for the camera was a new experience for me!