Electing the American President


Repost MLK DAY 2018 Repost from 2008 election. How things change and how they stay the same:

Today November 4, 2008 we are all a part of the most important event in political history.  Barack Obama, the Democratic candidate might possibly become the first black president of the United States.  Watching the two years of endless campaigning has been daunting, annoying, and often shocking.   Republican nominee John McCain, a Vietnam veteran and POW opposes the historical Democratic nominee.

Barack Obama
Barack Obama
John McCain
John McCain

While I am writing I am seeing voter turn out in the tri-state area at an all time high rate with lines outside the door in some locations.

The candidates
The candidates

Whatever your thoughts are on the campaign, the candidates or issues one thing can not be denied and that is the importance of this unprecedented election.

What has been a campaign fraught with many unpleasant, ignorant and even funny moments, now comes down to voting.  Nothing would surprise me today or tonight.  I just hope that tomorrow morning there is a new president elect.  May the best man win.

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An American Crime


Trailer of An American Crime

Unable to sleep I came across the film An American Crime. I read the brief information provided and learned the stars were Catherine Keener and Ellen Page so I decided to watch. I had never heard of the production or the true story of Sylvia Likens (Page) and what was considered the most horrible documented crime on an individual in the history of Indianapolis.

I watched with a knot in my stomach that just kept twisting as the film became more macabre, vicious and frightening, it was almost unbelievable. Unfortunately what I was watching was true and extremely tame compared to the actual crimes perpetrated on Sylvia by Gertrude Baniszewski (Keener). The film inter-cut between the courtroom testimony of the other five children and Sylvia’s own sister who were being cared for by “Gertie.” What I saw was so difficult that this is not going to be a film review at this time, but my reaction.

As soon as the film was over I googled the story and found myself reading various newspaper and journal articles. I wanted an answer as to how this could happen? I also wanted to know what the value was in making such a horrific, terrifying film? Only one conclusion made sense and both stars echoed the sentiment that her story needed to be told. Perhaps because it is so disturbing, it may make someone do something if ever they suspect that abuse is going on. Finally to remind people that Sylvia is just one precious life struck down by cruel, mentally unfit adults, scared children and seriously flawed judgement by so many others who could have, with one word saved this girls life.

No one said a thing as screams emanated from that house. Children told parents who either did not believe it or somehow ignored it for whatever reason. And neighbors, who heard just stayed to themselves. This is the crime which boils my blood as much as the torture Sylvia endured and that is the stark reality with which people live.

Ellen Page’s performance is heartbreaking and I wonder how one might be mentally able to sustain work in such a role.  I can’t imagine it not being something that will haunt her on some level.  Keener, although played with restraint is demonic, depraved, desperate and cruel.  In reconciling whether to do the film (which she originally refused) she finally decided that as a mother she had to. 

While we were laughing it up and watching Juno, Page was making a film quite different, important and controversial.  This is not for everyone.  It is a true crime story played out in gruesome fashion.  Yet for the Sylvia’s who lived and died this way perhaps it should be seen and discussed. 

 Copyright ©2008 Veronica Romm

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History lesson



History serves to inform and prepare. In order to learn we must be acutely aware.

 

When all has been tried, nothing being a mystery,

How are we expected to appreciate history?

The most brilliant minds that came before us.

The teachers, our heroes, and always the infamous.

Einstein, Tesla and Salvador Dali,

Allowing every sense to make a decision

Never lose sight of your personal vision.

Will it ever be equal?

We don’t need anymore sequels.

Why so politically correct?

Say what you mean you’ll earn more respect.

The police shoot first, with little concern.

When will these bullies actually learn?

What are the new taboos?

Doesn’t anyone have a thing to lose?

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We Are Seven


This has been one of my favorite poems since I was quite young.

WE ARE SEVEN   by William Wordsworth 1798-A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said;

Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:                                    

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

–Her beauty made me glad.

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said

And wondering looked at me.

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”

She answered, “Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.                                    

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother.”

“You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven!–I pray you tell,

Sweet Maid, how this may be.”

Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;                               

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree.”

“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

And they are side by side.                                  

“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.

“And often after sunset, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

“The first that died was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,                                     

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

“So in the church-yard she was laid;

And, when the grass was dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

“And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side.”                                   

“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

Quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in heaven!”

‘Twas throwing words away; for still

The little Maid would have her will,

And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

1798.

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