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Author Schools Colbert on Race
Posted on Mar 15, 2007
In this recent clip from "The Colbert Report," author Michael Eric Dyson instructs the show's self-professedly "colorblind" host about the differences between race, bigotry and racism and calls for Americans to celebrate difference in our "nation of immigrants." Displaying his keen sense of racial sensitivity, Stephen Colbert claims that the only way he knows he's a white man is "because I have a late-night talk show."
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By Frostedflakes, March 18, 2007 at 9:55 am Link to this comment
If all Americans had the true capacity to openly discuss and find the answers to their questions on racial interactions, this society would benefit ten-folds. However, as long as it is to be disseminated by the same powers that actually control our supposed democracy, there will always remain a vacuum. For without the ability to blindly mislead the populace, they might actually come together and form a true democratic union and upend the usurption of power by the 1% of the top 10% of this great nation's wealth, thus enabling this society to create true and legitimate reforms. This is wholly possible, but more likely never to occur simply because Americans are more concerned with self-interest and status quo.
By Ga, March 17, 2007 at 1:16 pm Link to this comment
"Blacks, like Indians, are superior in many ways to the fairly inbred whites."
Umm, in what way, superior? Physically? Mentally?
While one may compare physical traits and abilities and place any data gathered upon some sort of scale to find that perhaps there may exist some indications that one category of human beings are on average "stonger" or "taller" or "perform better on hand to eye coordination tests," this would be due to geographical conditions which affects evolutionary aspects of human physiology over generations. The affects of the sun on vitamin-D production is the most obvious example.
However, any thoughts of superiority/inferiority of one race, class, nationality, etc. over another is not only absurd and abhorrent it is a terrible folly that will only lead to WAR and GENOCIDE and SLAVERY. Indeed it has been the CAUSE of all those things—and more—throughout history.
If you are superior to me you will have all the justification you need to deprive me of my unalienable rights however you see fit if you are in charge, is that not so? Has that not been so throughout history?
If one actually listens to a lot of what Mr. Dyson says one will learn that he is a very important man with a very important message.
By Carlos Pasqual Rivera aka charlie bass, March 17, 2007 at 3:40 am Link to this comment
MLK, put it best, classism will be a much tougher nut to crack than racism. You want proof? Condi Rice, Colin Powell & Alberto Gonzalez. I have had the benefit of being the Fly on the Wall and in a sense conducted my own internal surveillance at major Global Companies for my own research, analysis and creative outlets under the physical appearance of either Jewish, Greek or Italian topped off with a theatrical-stage name change in the early 80's I am confident when you read my upcoming book, fiction of course,you will agree with MLK. Carlos Pasqual-Rivera aka Chas Bass.
By martin weiss, March 16, 2007 at 6:24 am Link to this comment
Further on the subject of race and the Bush family:
By martin weiss, March 16, 2007 at 5:52 am Link to this comment
Regardless of our differences, we have much more in common.
By mutterhals, March 16, 2007 at 5:19 am Link to this comment
I know the colorblind comment was supposed to be a joke, but I am sick to death of everyone telling me how different we all are. Human beings share 85% of their genetic traits regardless of ethnicity. Race is a completely social construct that has no bearing on reality. Why can't we all just regard each other as people and call it a day? And before someone gives the old "but everyone is a little racist" claptrap, save it. I only judge people on their actions, not what they look like.
By sahmadi, March 15, 2007 at 7:52 pm Link to this comment
Michael Eric Dyson is a racist lazy thinking jive talker. He offers nothing but excuses and a victimhood mentality to all those who give him credence. His rebuttal to Cosby's commentary about the self defeating practices of the black community was rather pathetic and predictable: it is the white man's fault.
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The boy asks, do you believe in the tooth fairy? and I reply yes.
The girl might have argued the point, but she had been briefed that only people who believe get cash under their pillow. The boy wants to know what his tooth is worth, wants to negotiate a better deal. He asks, what happens to the teeth after the fairy takes them away?
She answers, she puts them in a file and you get them back when you die.
This is an interesting theological perspective, and I imagine a heaven littered with amputated legs, cancerous organs, teeth.... waiting to be be reunited with their former hosts.
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It is a sad, sick fact: I am happiest when I have a task to accomplish. I like goals and deadlines.
After our workshop we walked to the Bazaar area to set up a vending table. Ariel and Maria needed to run errands so I sat down with the shirts and books. Inga set up next to me and we settled in for a long day of talking strangers into parting with their dollars.
Most people seemed too shy to approach any of the vendor tables, so after awhile Inga and I took to calling them over and offering free stuff. She was giving away stickers, but since I didn't have anything small I started to give away my zine. I offered all passerby the opportunity to pick one of the five and smiled big and lots of people lingered at the table, buying some of our stuff, or talking to us for awhile. A boy with piercings said I collect milagros, can I take a picture of your arm? so I pulled the sleeve of my dress up and leaned forward.
Lynne Breedlove dashed into the cafeteria and jumped up on top of the table to shout Attention K-Mart shoppers! I'm going on stage in five minutes! and the next thing I knew, I had agreed to sell merch for her: a new book called Godspeed, cd's by Tribe 8 and Sister Spit.
I take a very strange and possibly sinister delight in vending for other people. It is always much easier to promote the work of a friend or colleague than respond to questions about what I'm doing. I sat at the table and chatted people up, trying to convince them that they really need these books, shirts, cd's.
We were in the cafeteria of Mission High, and it was like being in high school again, except all the regular kids were missing. I wondered if high school would have been tolerable if only the eccentrics, thespians, punks, and queer kids had been allowed access to the school. But then again, no, because then the disenfranchised kids would have had to find internal equilibrium, appoint a bully, dissolve in cliqueishness. It seems inevitable, part of every community.
But it was a nice little thought, and sitting there with all the positive girl energy and happiness, the bands playing in the auditorium, I decided to enjoy the afternoon.
The people staffing the AK Press table started a game of tag.
Michelle Tea stopped by and sat with me and we talked about her new book, chatted about our publisher. Lynne sat down too and then Ariel and Maria came back. The cafeteria emptied out, and we decided to go play pool. But I looked at the clock and realized it was time to go to the airport, time to end this trip. I said goodbye to my friends and we walked to the train.
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For the last three or four years, when I've done shows with Ariel they have always included either a slide show with music or a live band.
This is a fact that we both forgot, or neglected to plan around, when getting ready for Ladyfest.
Without the other elements, our reading went much faster, leaving an abundant amount of time for Q&A.
Q&A is not my favorite activity, nor does it enter the top ten list of best things about my job. I don't hate it, or cringe in anticipation, I just wish it could be avoided or replaced with something else. Like an ice cream social.
The first question was so why did you really shut down the discussion boards?
I gave the true, appropriately phrased answer; that by the end, we were dealing with 50,000 new messages each month. We had made a promise to moderate all of the messages, to retain our political identity in the face of rapid growth. I said that the boards were not sustainable, that the growth of the community eventually assured the end. I went over the statistics and the accomplishments and talked about how lucky I feel to have been part of the project for so long. I talked about how happy I am to see so many new alternative communities forming to continue the work.
Other questions followed a familiar pattern, and then the group started talking about the politics of ADHD. We had an interesting, faceted debate about drugs, mental health services, nutrition.
After the session I talked to the woman who asked about the boards. She said I thought you would say you shut it down because of all the people dogging each other.
I laughed and shrugged. The social drama at the end of the boards was ugly, incomprehensible. But it was only one symptom of the disease that ate away at the project.
When I decided to shut down the hipmama.com boards, the thought process took a long time. I consulted professionals for advice; I lamented and schemed and tried all of my tricks to keep the project going, to divert trouble, to cure the sickness, to find a solution. It wasn't simple, or easy, but in the end, shutting down was the only possible answer.
I can talk about the unique challenges of managing resources in a new medium, the server problems, the state of the economy, the organizational theories of change. I can be honest and criticize my own failings.
But it is hard to articulate in public how sad I feel about the loss of the boards. I don't say when I finished deleting the forums, I put my head down on the table and sobbed until my eyes swelled shut.
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On the way into the venue on Saturday, I saw Inga smoking. I said hello and she hugged me and we smiled at each other and then Nomy said Inga, will you kiss me? and Inga turned away, her cigarette swinging out and burning my hand between the pointer and index fingers.
I yelped, shook my hand, laughed. Inga recoiled and then grabbed the hand, pressing kisses between my nuckles. She held on for a minute but then I saw that a line of fans had formed to say hello to her. I retrieved my singed hand and went in the building.
Later Inga found me and said I'm so sorry. I was going to apologize on stage but then I forgot.
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Ladyfest is an excellent festival, but we have too much to do. We missed many of the shows and films I wanted to see and set off on alternative adventures.
We took the train to Oakland and visited Soulmine and her family. She has a new baby named Zen, a tiny little human, only ten days old. We ate Vietnamese food and admired the high arching ceilings. I suggested that when the boys are older, they could install one of those play structures, the kind you find at fast food restaurants, without taxing the space of the apartment. I said the boys can sleep in transparent bubble bedrooms in the sky.
We wandered through the city with Hiya, eating cheap burritos and drinking in bars with too-loud eighties jukeboxes. We talked about literature and landscape and family. We talked about lost fathers, and the politics of expensive small towns. She was visibly shocked to discover that I am a true geek girl, a hardcore Linux user, a first-generation web veteran.
We tried to have drinks at The Tonga Room; we desired to partake of the tiki atmosphere, the floating band, the rain storms and ambience, but we were turned away. The place closes early, so if you want to visit, plan ahead.
Two couples, split boy girl between two cars: an ancient Alfa Romeo and a Ford Falcon. I pretended it was safe. We had great fun at the Gold Dust, a tourist bar on Union Square that serves drinks until 1:59 AM.
We visited the Bitch table to say hello to Andi. Byron wandered off across the cafeteria, exploring the maze of girl products and publications on display for the Ladyfest Bazaar.
After a few minutes I saw him gesturing to me and walked over to see what he wanted. He was standing behind a pillar talking to a man sitting at one of the merch tables. They were talking about eyeglasses, and Byron wanted to show off my spectacles.
We stood next to the pillar discussing vintage glasses, where to buy them, the relative joy and pleasure of wearing them, sharing tips on deals and procurement. I pulled out my sunglasses, a gold shade with starburst rhinestones, and the man said we have a pair like this in blue.
Well into our conversation we made haphazard introductions. The man said I'm just an old pervert and I looked at the table he was sitting next to: sex manuals and anthologies. This was Dr. Robert Lawrence, partner of Carol Queen. He pointed at Carol, wearing sleek aluminum frames, and asked if he could take our picture.
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We walked from Union Square through the Tenderloin and mixed up Market and Mission and Valencia and detoured around and over the wrong hills and saw abject poverty, fulsome street culture, cops with their billy clubs out for action.
Byron kept saying just a few more blocks and went rummaging in my bag for the map, visibly sticking out of his pocket, until I snapped and told him he can't navigate around his own pants. He laughed and we kept walking.
In front of a massive stone building on Market Street, we saw a tiny girl with long hair standing next to an old beat-up Subaru stuffed full of boxes, clothes spilling out and pressing against the windows. She seemed to be looking straight at us and she screamed what the fuck are you doing?
We kept walking, averting our eyes. The huge building and the line of cars created an acoustic tunnel for the screams of the girl. We drew closer, and I glanced over; she was very pretty and maybe eighteen years old.
What the fuck are you doing? You know I'm trying to get out of town! she yelled, and I realized there was a tattooed boy walking behind us. He approached this girl and shrugged and mumbled sorry.
Sorry isn't fucking good enough, what the fuck is the matter with you? She was still screaming even though the boy was now in standing in front of her, and we had reached the car.
I don't want to have a fight with you on the street he said I'm sorry.
Sorry isn't fucking good enough she yelled, pulling back her fist and punching the boy on the shoulder, it isn't fucking good enough.
The boy held up his hands, tattooed to the knuckle, his baggy tshirt flapping in the wind. I'm not going to do this he whispered and I could only hear him because I had slowed down to make sure the girl was okay.
It hadn't occured to me to wonder if the boy was okay.
The boy turned to walk away down the street as his girlfriend shrieked at him. We were next to the couple and then behind them as he quickened his pace and the girl ran behind. She launched at his back, grabbed his arms, wrenched his elbows backwards, screaming You so fucking will do this, you fucking asshole as he tried to shrug her off, tried to walk away.
I walked slowly, eyes on the pavement, wondering if I should say anything, call the cops, meet his eyes and tell him it would all be okay if he just kept walking.
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Danielle wrote and said she was cleaning the freezer in the Portland house and opened a bag to find what she first thought was a dead animal: a big straggly bundle of hair, and she screamed.
I wrote back that it was just a wig I forgot to thaw.
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from the children The International League of Dogs is a school that started out as a league of dog spies. Because they were running out of dogs that could be spies, they started a school for younger dogs so they could teach them how to be spies. Because they found certain individuals who were better than others, that were not dogs, they let some that were extremely talented into the school. Such as Spicey, Emerald, and Zoe. Spicey being a fox, Emerald and Zoe being cats. The ages range from four to thirteen.
Once you reach the age of thirteen, you can become a teacher. Once you have gone through your first day of training as a teacher, you get a special collar. When you are a student after your first year you get a collar which is string with a special colored bead on it which you make.
In the International League there are different classes. They have dancing, language, computer programming, math, the usual. They have a large library with an index of basically everyone who has had a criminal past, for help on cases.
The League has several headquarters. I cannot reveal the location of the sites.
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We went to Anacortes for Shipwreck Days & the What the Heck Fest on a hot bright day. I bought a white parasol with a rhinestone handle and we walked up and down looking at the wares on display. My parents were buying things for their shop and we met for lunch at a little diner. Al stopped in as we finished and we talked about plans for the day and the children agitated to stay with grandma.
We told Al we would be his handlers, his security team, and we joked and walked to the park to watch bands. The sun pressed down, overwhelmed us, and we only watched the bands in front of the rockery gazebo for a few minutes before leaving to find a grocery store so Al could buy half a watermelon and carrots. I looked at him standing there with his large melon and said Perhaps you should consider getting cutlery. You can find some in the deli area. I bought two tabloid magazines and we sat in front of the store staring at the dirigible shaped ballon floating above the pizza restaurant across the way.
We couldn't get in to the dinner show so we found a strip mall Mexican restaurant, with fake arched doorwarys, red vinyl booths with floral patterned seatbacks, ceramic parrots hanging from the light fixtures. The place was full of the kinds of adults who teach school or sell cars or have similar respectable jobs in a small town. The people at the table next to us were new grandparents, waiting to visit the baby, and the young parents walked in looking tired. The girl gently pulled her sleeping baby out of the car seat and held her out to an eager grandmother. The baby was wearing a patriotic onesie and she woke up and started to cry. The father was carded for his beer and had to leave to find his identification.
We walked from bar to bar watching bands. We saw the adorable Blau Brothers sharing a set with the Sandman, a rapping Montana cowboy. We saw Laura Veirs and then walked to the Croatian Hall for the end of the dinner show. I stood outside talking to Al and Calvin wandered by and offered his opinion of sperm donation (pro) and a boy was upset because he lost his furry leather Norwegian coat.
I saw half the set of a young local band called Button Happy. I was tired by the time Dennis Driscoll strolled on stage with his princess telephone, and his sweet beautiful voice lulled me as I fell asleep in one of the folding chairs.
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We went to Snoqualmie Falls, walked down to the river, and found a shaded spot to settle in for awhile.
The girl picked a big rock jutting out into the water and declared that it was hers. The boy found a smaller rock with a protected cove of water to splash with his feet and a long stick.
Byron found a spot to sit and think, and I started to read as the children played with leaves and pebbles.
Perched on top of her rock, the girl watched some teenagers launch inner tubes, and rolled her eyes. They just want people to look at them she said, because she is a city child.
I read a book and listened to the trees and water and remembered playing on the beach at Illahee when I was a small child. I remembered scrambling up banks of scrubby underbrush, clawing at the dirt and roots, pulling myself up, laughing. I remembered rope swings across rivers that I was always scared to ride.
My daughter climbed across to join her brother and he said Yeah! You're on my rock! I never get visitors to my rock!
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This is our gilded summer, the first and probably last time we have weeks and weeks to squander, to use in any frivolous way we prefer.
We have been visiting parks.
Our collective favorite is Kubota Gardens, an overgrown and entirely charming Japanese Garden that evokes our communal history (immigration, internment, sorrow) and also the crazed, messy natural state of living on the edge of the rain forest.
The girl stood at the edge of the waterfall, one foot on each side, water coursing between her legs, and held her hands up toward the sun. Look at me she yelled, her voice echoing across the park. I gasped and called out step away and her friend held out a hand to pull her back before she fell.
We drove past a miniature golf course with wooden rockets, windmills, eagles, next to a convenience store with a marguee reading Love is Friendship Set on Fire.
The girl said Mommy, do you know what I want to do? When I grow up I want to buy one of those big For Sale or Lease pieces of land and plant wildflowers and dance.
I would have poppies, and lavender, and people could pick as many flowers as they liked.
There aren't enough places for people to dance.
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James wrote and asked so I'm not crazy to think class is an issue, right?
He asked me because we share the same rural antecedents, the same erratic flight toward careers that would take us far away in geographic terms without erasing the tactile memories of poverty: government cheese, powdered milk.
My children have parents working with ferocious energy to give them a home and lessons and the other necessary accoutrements of a healthy, safe childhood. The children have organic vegetables and soy milk, musical instruments, books, but because I worry about their class status, they don't have trendy toys or superfluous electronic equipment.
I grew up working class and then wandered away, and I worry about privilege. About my children growing up without enough, or with too much, my fretfulness depending on my mood and the weather and the basic alchemy of our existence.
My children travel regularly to visit friends and family scattered across the world. They don't see their home as a singular neighborhood, town, county, country. They know that their boundaries are not defined by a specific mountain range or body of water.
My children know artists, writers, mathematicians. They know gas station attendants, junk dealers, fishermen, teachers. They know indie rock stars, and profoundly gifted academics.
My children have been given the gift of language, words, books and music, as a birthright, as an entitlement. My children have the inherent thirst for knowledge that informs all discovery, but because they witnessed our student years and fledgling efforts at establishing careers, they also know the fundamental disciplined framework of hard work.
I have very few expectations about the futures my children will choose, but I hope that they are learning that artistry and diligence are more important than popularity and greed. I hope that they are acquiring values that will inform their own choices of career; that they have learned that it is never a good idea to spread malicious gossip, that it is always a good idea to promote your friends, that the more you collaborate and cooperate, the better your fortune.
I hope that my children will not be working class, or middle class, or upper class, but something entirely different, a class that accomodates organic vegetables and creativity and economic success.
I wrote back to James oh, yes, class is real.
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Sometimes I find things so rare and precious I can't leave them to be recycled or thrown away. Today, I went to Goodwill to look for a hamper, and found thirty albums in pristine condition, needing a good home. They were only about ten cents each so I couldn't think of a good reason not to buy:
The Leavenworth, Washington Marlin Handbell Choir
Queen Anne High School Music Department 1963
Original Soundtrack: Cole Porter's Can-Can featuring Frank Sinatra, Shirley MacLaine, Maurice Chevalier and Louis Jourdan
Carnival of the Animals music by Saint-Saens, with New Verses by Ogden Nash, spoken by Noel Coward
Original Soundtrack: Otto Preminger's Exodus
Various and sundry musicals, all the regulars, including Fiddler on the Roof, Fiorello, and Stop the World, I Want to Get Off; all the obvious Rodgers and Hammerstein shows, plus Flower Drum Song
An Evening of Elizabethan Verse and Music with W.H. Auden and the New York Pro Music Antiqua
French Student Songs A La Notre
Original Soundtrack Album: Ice Castles starring Robby Benson
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All of our furniture is in storage, and the apartment doesn't have a desk.
I need a desk.
With the children safely stashed with Grandma, we could drive around the city and poke through stores looking for deals. It was eerie visiting antique and junk shops; I saw dozens and hundreds of objects I own, or that I gave away a few weeks ago. It was like visiting my basement.
We found a blue formica table, a wooden altar conveniently sized for home use, an oil painting of a bride.
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From the elevator we have a view of Elliott Bay, the waterfront, the viaduct, and the employees of Immunex. I go up and down the elevator all day long, pointing out and saying to the children Look at the water! Look at the ferries! and occasionally Look at the sunset! and after just a few days, they are bored and roll their eyes. Mina leverages herself across the handrails and tells me about the book she is reading. Aubrey hits the button for every floor we do not wish to visit.
From our bedroom, we can see the corner of the art museum, but not Hammering Man. We can look down into Post Alley, and we can see up First Avenue.
There is a large building with a dome, and at irregular intervals the dome lights up: a vivid blue that wakes me in the night. But we can't figure out what it is, because the lights don't follow a pattern we can discern.
I have a theory it is a giant bathroom and some rich man flicks the light on and off whenever he needs to pee. Aubrey thinks that the firefighters and police officers live in the dome and play baseball at night when they get bored.
From our nest in the sky, we can see the fog descending, blanketing the tall buildings, drifting down to the streets below.
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The corporate apartment has strict rules: no playing television or radio or making noise after 10 PM. No throwing things off the balcony.
We promptly broke the first rule by turning on John Denver: Greatest Hits at midnight.
Then we recklessly blew bubbles off the balcony.
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If there have been a few moments of wondering whether or not we did the right thing, of missing Portland, of nostalgia for the friends and events, those emotions crashed and burned when my five year old said Mommy, my teeth hurt and opened his mouth to reveal adult teeth sprouting directly behind his baby teeth, pointing backwards toward his throat.
We didn't move for kicks, or for money. We moved because we need dental insurance.
We are a family of sensitive people. We can live, have lived, on almost no money. But we can't do without good doctors, prescription drug benefits, dental care. We can't dwell in the dark shadowy regions of academic poverty where you let regular check-ups slide because you can't afford the co-pay.
Even with Byron ensconced in his high tech job and my work, we couldn't handle the extra costs not covered by our pitifully restricted health insurance, or the consequences of not having other benefits.
In Portland, with no dental insurance, I elected not to have the x-rays that routinely identify cysts in my mouth, cysts blooming through my gums to destroy teeth, cysts that hollow the bones of my face. If the cysts are found early enough they can be extracted; if they are ignored, they can (and have) destroyed large portions of my mandible. But without insurance, I couldn't afford to pay for the x-rays, couldn't afford to contemplate the corrective procedures, the loss of teeth, the root canals.
Holding my son's chin with my left hand, I tentatively poked at his baby teeth with my right index finger. He started to cry and said I love my little teeth, I don't want to lose them. I brushed the tears from his eyes and told him not to worry.
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Christine was my co-conspirator in junior high, and she still lives in what she always called the green hell. She has been sharing on streetmattress.com.
Scott sent a second hand report on the festivities back home: Burn a stump, crash a motor home, punch a cop, and toss your boyfriend out of a moving car. Golly, it must be the 4th of July!
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Our temporary home is a free corporate apartment in downtown Seattle.
We have a view of the sports stadium and the ferry terminal. We have two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a balcony, a kitchen, a living space with beige carpet featuring a beige couch and an easy chair with an Olde England lion and dragon theme print, all crammed into an efficient space the size of our main floor in the Portland house.
We also have more closets in this tiny space than we have had in any house of any size. The closets line each room and beg to be filled, but we don't own clothes hangers. Also, all of our clothes are in storage.
We walked through Pike Place Market, ate sausages, bought organic cherries, ambled down to Pioneer Square and ate dinner at a trattoria. Across the street, a local group was attempting to have a rave of some kind, but the DJ only had a few hardcore fans writhing in front of his tent, situated in a parking lot under the viaduct.
We walked down Alaskan Way with tourists and sailors to see the fireworks. The boy was scared so we split up, boys at Pier 56 and girls walking all the way to the Edgewater.
I saw the Ivar's fireworks up close for the first time; I am used to seeing the display from a distance of six miles, across the Sound, but here I am under the splay of colors and light.
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I stood in the middle of my empty living room, painted creamsicle orange and lime green by Stevie. I found that water was leaking from the corners of my eyes.
My daughter looked at her room. "It is so big," she said, then walked out to the car and buckled her seat-belt.
Byron asked our son if he wanted to say goodbye. I followed as they walked from room to room, all of us crying. Byron pointed out the different rooms that had been our bedrooms. The boy clutched at the walls, sobbing, saying "Goodbye pretty room, goodbye pretty door."
Because we share a fundamental need to appear brave, we offered four wet but calm faces when we dropped off keys for Gabriel and Danielle. Angie crouched by the car and looked at us with concern and we all smiled and blinked in the sun. Angie said take care, see you soon, goodbye and we waved and drove away.
We made it to I-5 and saw the bridge, crossed the bridge, looked at the houseboats on the Columbia River for the last time as Oregonians.
We drove across the bridge in silence. Byron, I said, we need to eat. He blinked and gave me a look that communicated I was misguided but pulled off to find a restaurant.
We walked into a fancy fish place and the host seated us at the window, looking at the river, looking at Portland across the way. The restaurant was full of people on a special evening out or talking business. We were wearing the clothes we had on for the move, the sweaty remnants of our wardrobes, a mismatched assortment of t-shirts and raggedy work pants.
We ordered fish and ate our food and colored on the childrens menu and played Hang-Man. We watched the sunset on the river, and looked across and remembered our life in Portland.
I didn't tell the family, but I realized then that Portland was a state of exile; knew that although I was sad to leave my friends, I was mostly excited to go home.
We ran up and down the boardwalk and played tag and then we got in our station wagon and drove North. I fell asleep with the children and Byron played Daydream Nation.
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Anna Ruby asked are you having a going-away party? and we laughed.
I like to throw parties, the bigger the better. I have at least two large parties at my house every year, and for over ten years also did at least one large public event.
But with two unhappy kids, a house full of boxes, countless small chores and large tasks unfinished, I couldn't conceive of planning my own going-away party. Not to mention my lingering, borderline pathological sadness about throwing a party for myself.
When I was a little kid my birthday was always ruined by illness or weather. Now I'm convinced that parties in my honor will always be awful, and when I do events or parties I deflect the attention: I throw Enchantment parties, Travelers parties, Breakfast Bean&Beer parties, book release or birthday parties for other people.
Anna Ruby said, well, we'll do something for you and Stevie nodded.
The very last Saturday before we left, we went to to say goodbye to all of our friends Stevie and Anna Ruby knew to invite. We didn't help at all so the people who gathered next to the gazebo were mostly friends from North Portland, from the house scene, from chorus, from vegan cafe. Anna Ruby had invited the others she knew to call: Ariel, Vanessa, Liz, Polly. Concentric circles of friends had invited other friends, and even strangers. There were fully two dozen people at the party I had never met before.
I made a wish on a falling star that nobody would hear about the party and feel sad that they weren't invited; I couldn't manage invitations and the move.
Dusk was settling across the rose garden and the fountain was lit up. People rode up on their bikes, walked in from the neighborhood.
I emptied several huge boxes of clothes and shoes and said, free box.
Vanessa said she had found the perfect gift and handed me a two foot long wooden phallus. She said she bought it at the Montana Testicle Festival and that she knew it would have a good home with me.
We ate vegan food and drank pulpy lemonade and watched the moon come up over the park. I could smell the roses and the sweat of my friends.
Lli was moving the same day and we stood in the deep shadows past the gazebo, watching our kids run across the fields together. I met Lli when our babies were not yet a year old; she had dreadlocks and an Army jacket and a tight leopard miniskirt. Now she has short hair, elegant vintage clothes, gallery shows. She is a confident single mother moving to the other coast with her school-age child.
Michelle, calm and organized and strong, a single mother again, but the owner of a house on her own terms, one of the most admirable women I know, walked up with her sons. Our kids have all been friends since they were sling babies. We talked about the move and hopes for the future, and it hit me like a fist in the stomach: who would watch the kids for Michelle every Wednesday while she is in school? We have traded child care since the boys were in diapers. Who would watch her sons now? Who would I call when I needed some time to myself?
I walked around the groups of people who had come to the park to say goodbye, drifting in and out of conversation, taking photographs to turn my friends into ghosts. I leaned into the affectionate embraces, tilted my head when their fingers creeped across my back.
Gabriel and Danielle had agreed to rent our house and I talked to Danielle about some of the details. Danielle went to high school with Byron in Colorado; her best friend Angie went to the same school, and I met them independently through Hip Mama. When Gabriel (also from Colorado, also a graduate of a wacked out alternative mountain school, also located via Hip Mama) needed a roommate after our trip to Italy I hooked him up with Danielle, never expecting that romance would blossom: Angie congratulated me on the success of my matchmaking and said she was sure that she would be doing a lot of babysitting for all the girls while Gabriel and Danielle visit Seattle.
The intricacy of the arrangement continues to amaze me, but mostly I'm happy that I can always visit my house, always have a place to stay, that children I love will run through the house laughing.
Toward the end of the party, after most of the bicycle friends had peddled away, Ana Helena leaned on her bike and said I have major mom issues about you leaving.
Stevie Ann burst into tears, mascara streaming down her face. I laughed and then put my arms around her and held on tight. I promised I'll cry later when I'm alone.
The moon passed behind a cloud and the fountain and roses were dim for a moment.
We walked away.
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After the movers left on the first day, we were had three beds, no spoons, and a house full of boxes.
The boxes were marked according to the room where they originated, with a notation of contents.
They started with good intent and savvy word choice; the bottom layer of boxes in each room had notations of a legitimate nature. But somewhere around the morning break the movers ran out of euphenisims for randon junk and started to get creative.
Knick-nacks. Bric-a-brac. Curio. Decor. The euphenisms went on and on; one box in the back bedroom said "Dollhouse, cowboy hat." Another said "Artificial flowers."
The 150 or so boxes in the lowest level of the house said, simply, "Basement."
We had been warned that the movers might pack our wallets, our half-finished snacks. And in fact, they did efficiently pack many of the items we had set aside to take to temporary housing. But our movers also resolutely resisted packing the items they did not feel we should move.
They didn't want to move our rusty, broken Tonka trucks.
They packed around, under, and above our collection of horse and cow bones, pulled out of the garden, crusted with dirt. They didn't seem especially fond of the pelvis, femur, and mandibles, though we continued to insist.
I would have rather done the move alone, but we didn't have a choice. The company was very clear: they will pay for the whole move, but only if they hire the movers.
There was a woman our age, thin, with long bangs. There was a red-headed man who seemed to be in charge, who looked beyond me whenever we found ourselves in the same room. There were a couple of college age boys, summer hires, lanky and slow moving until someone yelled at them to hurry up.
I stood in the middle of the living room, hands on my hips, wondering what I should do. The crew swarmed through the house with their boxes and tape and packing materials. I walked back and forth, ducking to get out of the way of the professionals, listening to the sound of tape unfurling echoed through the house.
The children slept on, even as the room was packed around them.
Eventually I ended up on the front steps watching through the window.
It is hard to be a class warrior when your household is being moved by professionals.
The children were so upset they slept through the first day as the place was packed up, and again on the second day as the boxes were moved out. Mid-morning the girl woke up and started to complain and I suggested she could rest better in the car, and she pulled her comforter down the stairs and across the lawn and settled in the decrepit, broken-down Skanky Volvo for a nap.
Around the time the movers went on lunch break, both children woke up and congregated on the front porch, eyes large and shocked. Neighbor children skateboarded and biked past the house, looking at us from the corner of their eyes. I suggested we leave for lunch, and my kids nodded, walking silently to the car.
We went to the Overlook for our final Portland lunch. The waittress took our order for two kids meals and a Reuben. She held her pen over the pad and stared at Mina. "The kid meals are for ten and under only" she said, "How old is she?"
"Eleven. Listen, it's okay, charge what you want- she just wants to order a grilled cheese sandwhich."
"How old is she?"
She tapped her pen. "Okay, ten. Would you like a beverage with that?"
I shook my head and sat back in the brown vinyl booth. I could see the television in the lounge. The noon news feature was about a drug bust at an apartment complex approximately between my house and the restaurant. I watched the live footage of my neighbors being herded into police cars and blessed the strange sequence of events moving us away from Portland.
I couldn't eat my sandwhich and had it boxed for Byron. When we got back to the house, the movers were gone.
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Anna Ruby moved boxes from the second story to the basement. Amy Joy took Aubrey out on special dates to the museum and science center. Polly helped sort mounds of junk. Marisa and Sarah P hauled truckloads of debris to the recycling center and dump.
Marisa stopped by every afternoon to visit, sit on the porch, eat dinner, play with the kids. She said she had separation anxiety and that she would miss us. I laughed and pointed out that she is on tour half the year; that she would probably see me as much when I live in a city she has to visit all the time. But she said it wasn't the same, that Portland wouldn't be the same.
Stevie Ann came by on one of the last afternoons, while I was pulling the bones out of the garden, the house already full of boxes. She was walking with one crutch: a literal miracle, the devastation of the accident almost a memory. When the car hit her, pinned her body to the ground, dragged her a whole city block, smashed her almost to death, I was sure she wouldn't walk again. I thought she might not survive. I never expected that she would be riding a bicycle within a few months.
My hair was a mess, four inches of natural roots showing, because I was waiting for Stevie to recover. She mixed the bleach and brushed it on with an old toothbrush and we sat together in the dappled shade of the backyard while Aubrey made play houses out of the lawn furniture, standing on top of the green plastic lounge, shouting look at me, Stevie, look at me!
Ana Helena and Chris stopped by several times, played Lego with Aubrey, watched Totorro with us. Ana said, we're good at goodbyes. Chris offered to help us move the stereo and records up to Seattle.
I stopped by to pick up issue #27 (Freedom) and talked to Ariel about the business. We walked to a convenience store to buy her cigarettes.
It is the mundane facts of friendship that I will miss: a thousand ordinary favors given and received; knowing my friends are nearby, knowing I can drop in any time, knowing that even if they aren't home I will see them later.
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About Us
Federated Employees Credit Union was established by 26 Federated Insurance Company employees on January 19, 1934. It is a member owned, not-for-profit cooperative organized to provide financial service to members. Once a member, you have access to financial products and services, you share in the profits, and elect directors.
The greatest asset of our Credit Union is our ability to offer fair rates of interest to our borrowers as well as to pay equitable dividends to our shareholders. Because Federated Employees Credit Union is member-owned, there are no stockholder's dividends, director's salaries, or other groups of owners/investors to satisfy. Therefore, we can return our earnings to members by paying higher interest on savings, offering lower loan rates, and having minimal fees.
Board of Directors and Committee Members
Privacy Disclosure
Funds Availability Policy
Membership Eligibility
Membership is available to all Federated Insurance Companies employees and retirees, their spouses, children, grandchildren, parents, and siblings.
Membership Account
To be a member, you must deposit one share of $5.00 into a credit union savings account.
Current Financials


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The new ruggedized LioN-R EtherNet/IP modules in the LioN series guarantee maximum security for data communication. This is because the galvanic isolation between the individual sensors and actuators and the higher level bus system reliably protect the coFeatures
The ruggedized LioN modules can be used wherever inputs and outputs need to be networked securely with controllers under harsh environmental conditions - for instance in mechanical and plant engineering. Thanks to their robust design they can even withsta
We are currently experiencing technical difficulties. We apologize for the inconvenience, and are working to quickly resolve it. Please contact your local Anixter representative for immediate assistance.


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An Australian crane barge has arrived from Australia, ready to start removing containers from the stricken ship Rena as soon as all the fuel has been pumped off.
Salvage teams onboard the cargo vessel, which has been stuck on Astrolabe Reef off the Tauranga coast for a month, were making good progress and had resumed pumping oil from the last tank, Maritime New Zealand (MNZ) said tonight.
About 358 tonnes of fuel oil remains in the Rena's submerged starboard five tank, while an unknown amount of engine oil remains in the engine room.
Bad weather forced salvage company Svitzer to suspend salvage operations and evacuate all personnel from the vessel on Monday but they returned on Wednesday and re-established the fuel removal systems.
In a setback though, MNZ salvage unit manager Bruce Anderson said dive teams today confirmed that a coffer dam, or water-tight barrier, salvors had been building to allow access to the submerged tank had been destroyed during the bad weather.
"Given the amount of time it would take to rebuild this, they have decided to focus their efforts on hot tapping,'' Mr Anderson said.
Hot tapping involves pumping water through the ship's deck into the fuel tank, raising the oil to the top so it can be pumped out.
Mr Anderson said it was a slower way to recover the oil but the best option available to the salvage team.
"The safety of the salvors is always the priority, and the destruction of the coffer dam really highlights how challenging the situation they are working in is.''
Mr Anderson said the team had set up two hot taps and was now pumping water into the starboard tank.
Another salvage team was pumping lubricant and hydraulic oils in the engine room into a centralised tank. These were being transferred to the barge Awanuia.
Svitzer was now looking ahead to the next phase of the salvage operation and preparing to remove containers from the vessel.
The crane barge ST60, from Gladstone in Australia, had arrived and would be used to remove containers once the fuel recovery was complete.
"Salvage efforts have concentrated on fuel recovery as the first priority of the operation. However, behind the scenes, a lot of work is also going into preparing for the second stage, which is removing the containers and, eventually, the wreck,'' Mr Anderson said.
Meanwhile, national on-scene commander Alex van Wijngaarden said volunteers had so far dedicated a total of 13,000 hours to the clean-up effort on the Bay of Plenty coastline.
"This is truly a massive effort and we are hugely grateful. We really couldn't do it without them,'' he said.


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Questions? We've got answers.
We've got answers.
Saga is the essential lifelogging app for iOS and Android. Saga automatically captures details of all of your daily adventures and records them to your own personal lifelog. Saga learns about you from your routines and offers helpful feedback right when you need. With Saga, you can choose to share some or all of your lifelog with your followers get a peek into the real lives of interesting people.
A lifelog is an automatically generated journal that includes information about the places you've been, the trips you've taken, and the events you've attended. It can also include personal notes you've made, or pictures or videos you've taken. With Saga, you can connect to many popular apps to enhance your lifelog with social media updates, health & fitness data, and much more. It's your whole, authentic life story.
Saga uses the sensors on your smartphone to build your lifelog. It records the places you've visited and the trips you've taken without any input from you. You really don't have to do anything. Other than live your life, that is.
Saga runs in the background in order to capture all of your adventures, and it learns your routines and preferences, so it can offer useful information at the right moment.
Recognizing your exact location is still a challenging task, even for today's awesome smartphones. We're constantly working on improving our location algorithms.
There are a few reasons why Saga might get your location wrong.
- While Saga knows about millions of locations worldwide, there are some not in our database. If Saga doesn't list a place, you can add it. Just tap the + at the upper right of the edit screen.
- GPS is constantly getting more accurate, but sometimes even the latest smartphone can't pinpoint whether you're at the coffee shop or the burger joint down the block. You can help Saga's accuracy by confirming your location.
- Until Saga learns something about your preferences, it will favor popular places over unpopular ones when uncertain. If you go somewhere obscure, Saga might guess you're at a nearby place that's more popular. You can help Saga get to know you by confirming your location.
Saga is constantly learning about what kinds of places you are likely to go to -- and it uses that information to make your lifelog more accurate. When you confirm or edit an entry in your lifelog (or on the Now screen), Saga uses that input to build a custom location-tracking algorithm, just for you.
Traits are little rewards that Saga gives you for being unique, interesting, or plain awesome. They reflect what Saga has learned about you over time.
After a few days of using Saga, you'll see a list of traits show up on Saga's Me Page. Go to a lot of burger joints? You might just end up being a "Burger Master". Hang out all the time with your kids, doing kid stuff? You might see traits related to the joys of parenting.
Traits are based on patterns Saga has detected over time. Traits will change over time, if your habits change.
Confirm is how you tell Saga that it did something right. Saga uses 'Confirm' to personalize its location-tracking algorithms just for you. When you confirm your current location or a past location in your lifelog, Saga's predictions about where you're likely to go become more accurate. Confirming very short visits will ensure Saga doesn't miss anything.
By default, Saga users who search for you will be able to view your name, city and your Facebook avatar if available. You decide whether to reveal things like your location, traits, infographics, and saved places to each of your followers, on a case-by-case basis. Saga offers three tiers of privacy, with flexible settings.
From your 'Followers' screen you can see what permissions you've given to each of your followers. Swipe through Public, Acquaintances, and Close Friends to review your lists. You can change the settings for any follower by tapping on the permission level shown below his or her name. To adjust permissions for Public, Acquaintances, or Close Friends, navigate to the list in question and tap 'edit.'
If you link Facebook to your Saga account, you will see any of your Facebook friends who also use Saga when you tap 'find friends.' Saga also promotes interesting people to follow. You can type any name or email address into the search field to see if your friends are using Saga.
There are a number of ways to remove the risk of the wrong people knowing where you are:
- Set a delay, so that your whereabouts are shared up to a day after the fact
- Only share locations you have confirmed, for complete control over which visits your followers see
- Set permissions so that only people you trust see your whereabouts, by assigning the appropriate level to your trusted group (such as Close Friends)
- Keep your home and workplace hidden from your followers
- Location sharing can be disabled for any permissions level
Any Saga user who knows your name or email address (or searches for random people with your name) can find you, but they will never see more than you share with the public, unless you change their permissions level.
If you link Facebook to your Saga account you are able to invite your Facebook friends to try Saga. We will soon enable more widespread invitations.
If you link your Facebook account to Saga, your Facebook avatar will appear in Saga. We don't yet host images for user avatars, but we plan to add that feature in the near future.
Saga currently supports the inclusion of full name, home city, places visited, personal infographs, traits, saved places, and data from third party services on your visible profile. You may choose any combination of these to reveal to each permissions level. For example, you could share everything with Close Friends, but only traits with the Public.
If you choose to disable Saga's social features, you will not appear in search results, and you will have no visible social profile. You will not be able to search for other Saga users or view their profiles.
No. Any Saga user can follow any other Saga user. New followers see only what you share publicly unless you change their permissions level.
No. You choose whom to follow, whether they follow you or not.
With three tiers of permissions, each Saga user can control exactly what you will see on his or her profile. When you first follow someone, you only see what they share publicly, which may be nothing.
Online personas don't always reveal who you are and how you live. If you'd like to present a more authentic self to the world, Saga is a great way to do that.
Our Android team is working hard to get caught up after an unfortunate encounter with a bear. We expect social features for Android in early August.
We care about the privacy and security of your personal data. All user data is encrypted and stored on secure servers in the cloud. Your personal data is never shared with third parties. Review our privacy policy for more details.
If you haven't opened Saga recently, you might find your lifelog can be slightly out of date. In order to cut down on battery drain, Saga only asks for updates to your lifelog when the app is in the foreground. Getting the latest updates may take a few seconds.
Yes. Tap insert between two entries on your lifelog to add the missing entry. You can add both places you visit and your travel between locations.
There are a few reasons you might see "no data" in your lifelog:
- You lost network connectivity
- Your phone was off
- You killed Saga in the iOS app switcher
- You turned off background refresh for Saga
- There was an error on our servers
Saga has partnered with a growing ecosystem of connected apps. When you link an app to Saga, you will see updates from that app in your lifelog as part of your lifelog. In the future, Saga will integrate data from your third-party apps to your custom charts and traits.
You can add pictures or videos to your lifelog in one of three ways:
- Link your Instagram account to Saga.
- Link your Facebook account to Saga.
- Link your Socialcam account to Saga.
- Choose a photo or video from your phone's camera roll.
- Shoot a photo or video directly in Saga.
You can share individual elements from your lifelog on Twitter, Facebook, and Foursquare by tapping the action/ share icon.
When you turn on social sharing in Saga, you can share as much or as little as you like with your Saga followers, automatically.
You can even curate and share any number of your favorite places with friends and family, such as highlights of your vacation or your favorite BBQ joints. Tap the share icon on your lifelog, give your collection a name, and tap the places you want to include. You can then broadcast your picks via Facebook or Twitter.
It's true: Saga probably doesn't know where you live. We know about more than 20 million places, but unless you've added your residence to a public location database like Foursquare's or Factual's, it's likely that we don't know anything about your crib.
If that's the case, Saga will try to place you at the place closest to your home that you'd be likely to spend time at. We strongly encourage you to tell Saga where you really live by creating a new private place.
If your location doesn't appear on the edit screen and it doesn't come up in search, it most likely has never been added to Saga's database. Tap the '+' at the top if the edit screen to add a place. Name the place anything you like. No one will see the places you create except you.
You can tell Saga where you live and work at the bottom of the Me page.
Saga will eventually learn where you live and work, but sometimes the first guess is not quite right. To correct this, tap 'Me' and scroll to the bottom. From there you can edit your home and workplace. When Saga knows your home and work, it can make observations about routines like daily commutes. Tap the 'add' icon if you'd like to add more than one home or workplace.
Most of us spend more than 80% of our week at home or work. Getting those places right is pretty important for a lifelogging app.
While your workplace is probably in Saga's database, we suspect that your home might not be. We strongly encourage you to tell Saga where you live. If you don't, Saga will try to place you at the location closest to your home that it thinks you'd be likely to spend a lot of time at.
Saga keeps the places you create entirely private. They're not visible to other Saga users. Don't worry, we won't let anyone know where you live -- or that you call your home "Saturn's Lair".
Today's smartphone operating systems were designed with apps like Saga in mind. Since Saga's pretty smart about collecting data in a way that doesn't kill your battery, it's able to run as a low-impact background service on the iPhone and Android phones. On iOS you must have background app refresh turned on for Saga.
You can tell Saga to take a break from recording your location on the Settings page. You can also stop running Saga just like you would any other app. When you kill Saga, it will not continue recording your location, and you will see 'no data' in your lifelog.
Sure. Maybe there are some things you don't want to remember. Just hit the Delete button on any entry in your lifelog, and it's gone forever. Poof.
On iOS you can slide the Venue panel to the left to reveal action buttons, which include Delete!
If you want to go undercover, you can also tell Saga to take a break from recording your location on the Settings page.
No. Saga only turns on your GPS every few minutes in order to maximize battery life.
Yes. Saga only works when it has access to GPS, Wifi, and your cellular network location.
Yes. Saga only works when it has access to GPS, Wifi, and your cellular network location.
Yes. Saga only works when it has access to GPS, Wifi, and your cellular network location.
On the latest smartphones, Saga drains about 1% of your battery per hour. Your mileage may vary, depending on how much -- and how hard -- you use your phone.
Saga works best on the latest hardware and operating systems. You'll definitely get better performance running Saga on an iPhone 5 than on an iPhone 3GS. Battery drain can also increase in areas with poor cellular coverage, and when traveling at high speed.
Yes. Saga requires you to have a data plan.
Yes. Simply download Saga to your new device, and login with the same Facebook credentials you used with Saga before.
Yes. From the settings screen you can choose to export your lifelog data, or create a calendar feed. When you choose to export your data, you have 2 options: JSON or iCal. An iCal export contains only time and place data, which you can import to your calendar to see how you really spend your time. The JSON export includes all of your Saga data, so you can use it for your own apps or experiments. You'll be able to access your Saga data via API in the near future.
First, download and un-zip the zip file found at the url in your email. For iCal data, open your calendar, choose 'import' then navigate to the file. You can import JSON into custom tools designed for the data structure. We will soon offer a Wolfram Alpha Mathematica notebook to explore your Saga data.
When you create a calendar feed in Saga, your calendar will periodically pull in your Saga data automatically. You will receive a URL to add to your calendar 'feed' field. The frequency of updates is determined by your calendar program's preferences.
Yes. The big button on the Settings page labeled 'delete my data' does exactly that. Your Saga history will vanish without a trace.
No. Saga supports logging in with Facebook or with an email address and password.
In order to migrate your lifelog, you will need to log in with the same Facebook account you used for the Saga beta.
The Saga APIs will be available soon.
We will never ever ever sell your individual data. See our privacy policy for more information.
From the app, you can contact support via the settings screen, or simply email firstname.lastname@example.com.
Saga is available in the following markets: Australia, Canada, Sweden, United Kingdom, and the United States.
In order to release Saga in new regions we have to make sure that we are in compliance with local privacy laws. We also need to determine whether the location data in the area is sufficient for Saga to work well.
Yes! We are seeking Android users to test Saga worldwide. If you are interested, please contact firstname.lastname@example.com for more information.
Saga learns about you through your lifelog and can understand what information you might need at a particular time and place. If you have an upcoming appointment across town, Saga will tell you exactly when you need to leave, based on current traffic conditions. You'll also be alerted when weather or traffic might impact your routine. If someone you follow on Saga is unusually nearby, Saga will let you know. The data Saga collects about you is never shared with third parties, and you can export or delete your data at any time. Read our privacy policy.
Saga sends smart, contextual notifications about weather, traffic, friends' activities, and facts about your current location. Notifications appear on the Now screen, or occasionally as push notifications.
Saga sends push notifications sparingly. For example, if someone you follow on Saga is unusually nearby, you will be notified. We won't bug you when your co-worker is near work, but if someone from a different city is in town, we'll let you know. You can also choose to be notified about the activity of your favorite people.
You can choose to be notified of all activity from your favorite people, if they share with you in real time using Saga's social sharing. When you turn on social sharing, you can set up three tiers of permissions from the 'Followers' section on 'Me.' When you "star" a person, you will receive a notification whenever they arrive at a new location, but only if they share their location with you without a delay. If you'd like others to be notified of your activity, make sure to set permissions so that they may see your location without a delay.
No, not every single time. First, your starred friends must share location with you without a delay for you to receive notifications of their activity. If they do, then you will receive periodic push notifications when they arrive somewhere new. Not every visit will generate a push notification, but all of your starred friends' activity will appear on the notification screen in Saga.
Saga pulls in data from the hyper-local weather service Dark Sky and uses predictive intelligence to determine when changes in the weather might affect you. If there's about to be a downpour at your current location, Saga will let you know. Saga will also alert you when there's inclement weather in your future, so if you're about to head home from work, you might be notified of a blizzard near your home.
Saga pulls in real-time traffic data from Inrix and uses predictive intelligence to determine when traffic might affect you. If you have a calendar event across town, Saga will let you know exactly when you need to leave, based on current traffic conditions en route. If there's congestion affecting your predicted commute, Saga will let you know, so you can plan a better route.
Yes. Intelligent technology is the natural progression of lifelogging. Saga understands where you are, figures out what you're doing, and offers help when you need it. Saga will soon offer a wider variety of notifications, and these notifications will continue to get smarter and more personalized.


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Drugs and guns are a bad mix.
This is a discussion on Bad: Leave Wild West Tricks to the Wild West within the In the News: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly forums, part of the The Back Porch category; Florida Teen Accidentally Shoots Friend While Twirling Gun - Local News | News Articles | National News | US News - FOXNews.com...
Drugs and guns are a bad mix.
I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
nor the arrow for its swiftness,
nor the warrior for his glory.
I love only that which they defend.
-J.R.R. Tolkien
The story from above...
Florida Teen Accidentally Shoots Friend While Twirling Gun
Saturday, March 06, 2010
ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — A St. Petersburg teen was reportedly twirling a handgun on his finger when he accidentally shot his friend.
Police say the shooter and the victim, both 17, were hanging out at a St. Petersburg home Thursday afternoon when the shooting occurred.
The shooter was arrested on an unrelated charge of violating terms of his probation in connection with a drug-possession charge. He told police he found the .40-caliber handgun.
Police say the victim was in serious but not life-threatening condition.
Officers are continuing to investigate and additional charges related to the shooting are possible.
What an amazing find...those guns are laying all over the place in St. Petersburg, just waiting for someone to FIND them.
I wonder if he also found his dope with the gun?
Proverbs 27:12 says: The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and suffer for it.
Certified Glock Armorer
NRA Life Member
I might have to head across the state to St. Pete to look around for a new gun. I'm really getting tired of having to pay for them.
Heading down south to go hangun hunting : )
A Native Floridian = RARE
Twirling is a bit less safe with a modern auto than with a decocked single action revolver, I bet...
Not that it's a good idea either way of course.
"Trust in God with hand on sword" -Inscription on my family's coat of arms from medieval England
---Carry options: G26/MTAC, PF9/MiniTuck, PPK/Pocket, USP40/OWB---
---NOTE: I am not an expert. If I ever start acting like a know-it-all, please call me on it immediately. ---
Idiots...I have never just found a gun, Guess i had better start looking.
You may not like guns. You may choose not to own one. That is your right.
You might not believe in God. That is your choice.
However, if someone breaks into your home at 3AM the first two things you are going to do are:
1) Call someone with a gun.
2)Pray they get there in time." - A wise man
That's 'cause they 'found' it in daddy's closet or desk.(or something like that)
Should be charged with "Finding". As soon as we make the penalty for "finding" and "I didn't do nothing" harsh, then sooner folks quit doing it.
Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people will find a way around laws. Plato
I might visit St. Petersburg soon; perhaps I am lucky and I find a .40 handgun
"The Second Amendment: America's Original Homeland Security"
It's easy to just find a gun. Don't you guys know that our streets "are flooded with them"?
"The flock sleep peaceably in their pasture at night because Sheepdogs stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
Wow! not sure what else there is to say.
Why is it these people never shoot themselves instead of their friends?
I think they probably "found it" in one of their neighbors closets, or with a bunch of others like it in the trunk of a car in a local parking lot.
Walk softly ...


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There aren't too many women that can hold their own with Kanye West, but when 32-year-old British R&B star Estelle sang with West on American Boy from her third album Shine in 2008, she came away with a hit.
She still has that same sly sense of humour, and genuine delivery on much of All of Me, but though there are some excellent tracks here, there's also a few that feel a little lazy.
Opener The Life has her rhyming and spitting with style that would rival MIA or Missy Elliott, while International (Serious) featuring Chris Brown and Trey Songz, with its reggae inspirations and deep bass groove, has a youthful punch that rivals Rihanna.
Early single Thank You is a classic ballad, even with a few cliches thrown in, and Back to Love is one of the best club anthems since Robyn's Indestructible. Actually it's better, with its Coldplay-esque string section and dramatic chord progressions.
Speak Ya Mind has a catchy snap, and some great horn and double basslines, while Do My Thing featuring little firecracker Janelle Monae, is a true highlight, with the same wow factor as Monae's break out hit Tightrope, and that kind of irresistible toe-tapping beat that Outkast did so well.
Unfortunately the generic R&B cheese on tracks like Cold Crush and Break My Heart (questionably featuring Rick Ross) take this album from outstanding, to merely solid.
Stars: 3.5/5
Verdict: Some outstanding tracks mixed with some average tunes


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This web page is meant to showcase the research output of Bolivia published in Hindawi journals, as well as the participation of scholars from this country in Hindawi journals. Along with the list of articles originating from Bolivia, this page also lists the scholars who authored these articles, the scholars who are currently on the editorial boards of Hindawi journals, and the scholars who reviewed one or more articles for any Hindawi journals in the past couple of years.
Articles [13]
The following is the list of articles by scholars from Bolivia that are published in Hindawi journals.
- Traditional Medicine in a Global Environment, Rainer W. Bussmann, Wendy Applequist, and Narel Paniagua-Zambrana
Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine
Volume 2014 (2014), Article ID 326895, 1 page
- Evaluation of Antileishmanial Activity of Selected Brazilian Plants and Identification of the Active Principles, Valdir Cechinel Filho, Christiane Meyre-Silva, Rivaldo Niero, Luisa Nathália Bolda Mariano, Fabiana Gomes do Nascimento, Ingrid Vicente Farias, Vanessa Fátima Gazoni, Bruna dos Santos Silva, Alberto Giménez, David Gutierrez-Yapu, Efrain Salamanca, and Angela Malheiros
Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine
Volume 2013 (2013), Article ID 265025, 7 pages
- Synergistic Effect of Lupenone and Caryophyllene Oxide against Trypanosoma cruzi, Glendy Polanco-Hernández, Fabiola Escalante-Erosa, Karlina García-Sosa, María E. Rosado, Eugenia Guzmán-Marín, Karla Y. Acosta-Viana, Alberto Giménez-Turba, Efraín Salamanca, and Luis M. Peña-Rodríguez
Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine
Volume 2013 (2013), Article ID 435398, 6 pages
- Construction of a WMR for Trajectory Tracking Control: Experimental Results, R. Silva-Ortigoza, C. Márquez-Sánchez, M. Marcelino-Aranda, M. Marciano-Melchor, G. Silva-Ortigoza, R. Bautista-Quintero, E. R. Ramos-Silvestre, J. C. Rivera-Díaz, and D. Muñoz-Carrillo
The Scientific World Journal
Volume 2013 (2013), Article ID 723645, 17 pages
- Total Hip Arthroplasty with Bulk Femoral Head Autograft for Acetabular Reconstruction in Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip, Fernando Claros Pizarro, Simon W. Young, Jorge H. Blacutt, Rolando Mojica, and Juan C. Cruz
ISRN Orthopedics
Volume 2013 (2013), Article ID 794218, 6 pages
- The Influence of Strata on the Nutrient Recycling within a Tropical Certified Organic Coffee Production System, F. Mamani-Pati, D. E. Clay, S. A. Clay, H. Smeltekop, and M. A. Yujra-Callata
ISRN Agronomy
Volume 2012 (2012), Article ID 389290, 8 pages
- Atmospheric Corrosion, Blanca M. Rosales, Rosa Vera, Oladis Troconis de Rincon, Alejandro Di Sarli, Jaime Alberto Rocha Valenzuela, and Johan Tidblad
International Journal of Corrosion
Volume 2012 (2012), Article ID 174240, 3 pages
- In Vitro Antiplasmodial Activity of Sesquiterpene Lactones from Ambrosia tenuifolia, V. Sülsen, D. Gutierrez Yappu, L. Laurella, C. Anesini, A. Gimenez Turba, V. Martino, and L. Muschietti
Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine
Volume 2011 (2011), Article ID 352938, 4 pages
- An Experimental Approach for the Identification of Conserved Secreted Proteins in Trypanosomatids, Rosa M. Corrales, Françoise Mathieu-Daudé, Déborah Garcia, Simone F. Brenière, and Denis Sereno
Journal of Biomedicine and Biotechnology
Volume 2010 (2010), Article ID 752698, 13 pages
- Simultaneous Nasopharyngeal Carriage of Two Pneumococcal Multilocus Sequence Types with a Serotype 3 Phenotype, Donald Inverarity, Mathew Diggle, Roisin Ure, Diego Santana-Hernandez, Peter Altstadt, Timothy Mitchell, and Giles Edwards
International Journal of Microbiology
Volume 2010 (2010), Article ID 765479, 4 pages
Authors [22]
The following is the list of scholars from Bolivia who published one or more articles in Hindawi journals.
Reviewers [10]
The following is the list of scholars from Bolivia who reviewed one or more manuscripts in the past few years for Hindawi journals.


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It's coming out beautiful. Is the pattern still available?
Welcome to the Quilting Board!
It's coming out beautiful. Is the pattern still available?
I love it the pattern and your choice of colors, can't wait to see the finished product...
I already love this! Just beautiful! Can't wait to see it completed.
The pattern is wonderful, but your choice of colors and shades are what makes this most appealing. I, like most of the Board would love to know the name of the pattern...your finished quilt is going to be a knock out!!!
What a ditze I am, I just noticed that you gave the place and name of the pattern...sorry about that, but I do love your project.
I love it! It looks so clean and fresh -perfect for spring leaves!
This is going to be really gorgeous! I can't wait to see the finished quilt. Please keep us updated on your project.
Very Pretty, love the colors.
that is going to be very nice after it is all put together !
this is beautiful where can I get the pattern?
Freedom is costly and quilting keeps us busy...


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We promise to do whatever it takes to ensure you're satisfied, or you don't pay. You can count on us. GUARANTEED. The Hilton Garden Inn Promise reflects our focus on hospitality and integrity. We are committed to providing an excellent hotel experience for every guest, every time.
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Following an exhibition late last year at New York's Opera Gallery, contemporary pop artist Ron English is set to bring his signature caricatures of brand imagery and advertising to SoCal's Corey Helford Gallery with his new "Popagandistan" exhibition. In typical English fashion, "Popagandistan" is set to feature a variety of twisted characters like Ronnnie Rabbbit as English showcases his surrealist vision of a pop utopia across a number of vivid canvases. "Popagandistan" is set to open October 26.
Corey Helford Gallery
8522 W Washington Blvd.
Culver City, CA 90232
United States


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Tom Ross
Tom Ross' column appears in Steamboat Today. Contact him at 970-871-4205 or firstname.lastname@example.com.
Find more columns by Tom here.
Steamboat Springs It was great to get wind last week of a former longtime colleague, Neil Cantwell.
A loveable curmudgeon if ever there was one, Cantwell wrote a weekly fishing and hunting column for the Steamboat Pilot for more than 20 years. He wrote Outdoors under the pen name Carl Creel, although his picture ran with every column. The column published every week without fail from 1971 until about 1993.
Cantwell learned to fly fish on the blue ribbon trout streams of southwest Montana, but he somehow managed to get himself exiled to Denver. After sampling the trout fishing in Northwest Colorado, he snagged a job with the Steamboat Springs Police Department.
He was the guy who would open your car when you locked the keys inside one day and then heartlessly give you a parking ticket the next week.
He saved all his charm for his wife, Delphine, and for sweet-talking ranchers along the Elk and Yampa rivers to gain permission to fish.
Cantwell also achieved some measure of immortality in 1981 when he published a collection of fishing columns in a book titled "Your Fly is Down! Trout Tales of the Rockies."
The book is in the collection of Bud Werner Memorial Library. You can find it up there on the second floor with the fancier fly fishing books.
I lost track of Cantwell at least 15 years ago after he bailed out of Steamboat to live in Grand Junction. Out of the blue this week, a new column from Carl Creel arrived in my e-mail inbox.
His daughter, Candice, explained to me that this column was a labor of love for the valley he left behind; Delphine died last October. Neil's hearing is quite poor, and he has lost much of his vision.
So, Neil Cantwell, one of the best and most persistent anglers this ski town with a river running right through it has ever known, is fishing mostly in his imagination these days from his residence in Wheat Ridge.
Here is some of what Neil wrote this month:
"Truth be told, my move to the mountains from smoggy crowded Denver wasn't that difficult. During the mid- to late 1960s I had spent some time fishing in and around the Steamboat Springs area.
"Finding the lovely Elk River to my liking, I knocked on rancher John Fetcher's door. Mrs. Fetcher opened the door, and I was told to go ahead and fish but please obey the small sign posted 'Sport fishing only - keep two fish limit.' This was fine by me, as I usually don't keep any at all.
"So began my 25-year love affair with the beautiful lower Elk River.
"It was here on the Lower Elk that Chuck Lodwick, famed aviator, came up with this immortal line now heard worldwide, "Let's get out of these wet clothes and into a dry martini!"
Cantwell enjoyed great fishing success on the Elk and did almost as well on the Yampa, averaging six days of fishing a week. He estimates that during the 1970s, he would typically net 20 fish a day (not counting whitefish).
One of my favorite chapters in "Your Fly is Down!" is a reminiscence about a solitary day of fishing Cantwell experienced on his 55th birthday.
He took a snooze under a cottonwood on the banks of the Elk at mid-afternoon and awoke to find a surly badger sniffing around not 8 feet away. It was a golden autumn afternoon and the beauty of the river combined with the profound wildlife experience seemed to propel him a little closer to heaven.
Here is how the writer described it himself:
"My reverie at an end, I lighted a smoke and spent the next 10 minutes congratulating myself on choosing this area of Northwest Colorado as the place to spend the last decade of my life.
"My 55th birthday celebration was one that few men can enjoy whether wealthy or poor. Some six hours spent in the solitary beauty of a Colorado autumn, with no companions, no worries.
"Thankful that there are still places left where the outdoor sportsman can share the day with trout and the animals of our ever-declining wilderness, I pointed my vehicle toward home as darkness settled across the Elk River Valley."
Candice Cantwell confided something touching abut her father to me in her recent e-mail.
"He asked me to share that when the time comes, Neil and Delphine Cantwell want their ashes to be scattered on the Elk and the Yampa rivers," she wrote.
Not a bad way to spend eternity, Carl Creel. But don't be in such a big rush.


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White House says President learned of inappropriate targeting of right-wing groups from news reports.
Controversy continued to swirl around the White House yesterday with developments on two fronts.
It was revealed that the White House chief of staff and other senior advisers knew in late April that a report was likely to find that employees of the United States tax agency had inappropriately targeted conservative political groups.
But the White House said the advisers did not tell Barack Obama, leaving the President to learn the results from news reports.
The White House defended that decision, with press secretary Jay Carney saying Obama was comfortable with the fact that "some matters are not appropriate to convey to him, and this is one of them".
The decision to keep the President in the dark about the Treasury Department report underscores the White House's cautious legal approach to controversies, as well as an apparent desire by top advisers to distance him from troubles threatening his Administration.
Opposition Republicans have seized on the audit by a Treasury Department inspector-general, which found that Internal Revenue Service employees singled out groups with names like "tea party" and "patriots" for special scrutiny that delayed their applications for tax-exempt status, including during last year's presidential election.
Also yesterday, it was reported that the US Government is prosecuting a State Department expert on North Korea in a probe that appears to step into uncharted territory - by declaring that a journalist is committing a crime in disclosing leaked information.
It is the latest case of the Obama Administration investigating classified information improperly disclosed to reporters.
During the investigation of State Department adviser Stephen Kim, law enforcement officials obtained a search warrant for some private emails of James Rosen, the chief Washington correspondent for Fox News.
Kim, who is awaiting trial, is accused of revealing secrets to the news organisation. No charges have been filed against Rosen.
An FBI agent seeking the search warrant spelled out the Government's view of the journalist's role, saying the reporter was a co-conspirator and that there was probable cause to believe that the reporter committed a violation of criminal law.
"We are outraged to learn today that James Rosen was named a criminal co-conspirator for simply doing his job as a reporter," said Michael Clemente, Fox's vice-president for news.
"In fact, it is downright chilling. We will unequivocally defend his right to operate as a member of what, up until now, has always been a free press."


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TV20 Interviews Shands Stroke Program Coordinator
Published July 27th, 2009
On Monday's Medical Spotlight, David finds out the difference between a headache and a potentially deadly stroke. He's joined by Justine Abram, the Stroke Program coordinator at Shands at UF.
Related Stories
- Autism Interview with Dr. Krestin Radonovich
- Interview with Dr. Amit Rawal About Stroke Treatments
- Health Interview On Ways To Keep The Gym Fun
- Horticulture Program Gives Patients More Than a Green Thumb
- Hospital program uses the arts to help patients
- Cancer #1 Killing Disease For Hispanics, But Gainesville Continues To Fight Back
- Act FAST: Learn the Signs of a Stroke
- Medical Spotlight: Strokes
- Women and Wellness: Preventing A Stroke
- Shands receives gold beacon award of excellence


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Choirokoitia - Neolithic Settlement -video too
Trip Start Mar 03, 2010
145Trip End Feb 06, 2011
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Visiting the Neolithic Village of Choirokoitia
(My little video is worth watching)!
I cannot describe my happiness when Gabriel tells me that our next stop is the
Ancient Neolithic settlement of Choirokoitia. I have always wanted to come here
but each time something happened and the trip was cancelled.
Well I am on my way here now and this excites me
to the village of Choirokoitia was with my Dad and Mum on our way back from the mountains
where we stopped for lunch, some 15 years back. Of course my dear Dad has passed away now.
The other time was when almost 8 years back we had a quick stop at the village again with
a choir from Greece. I cannot remember visiting the reconstructed settlement before, only
the ruins up the hill, which I am sure we won't have time to visit today…..for me though
this visit here counts a lot.
We come to the settlement and Gabriel pays for our entrance fees
been here again and I can't wait to get in.
We are about 32 km from Larnaca on the Nicosia-Limassol (or) Lefkosia-Lemesol road.
The name Choirokoitia can be also found as Khirokitia and the settlement dates back to 7.000 BC.
Home to primitive farmers cultivating those years wheat and barley.
The houses look like beehive-shaped and are made of mud and stone. They have been reconstructed
to show how these early farmers lived. They were circular houses with flat roofs and the dimensions are
variable reaching a maximum of 9m
consists of a group of these structures around an open space, where installations or grinding corn
were found. Openings in the wall in place of windows, as well as a door, allowed air and light into the
buildings. Internal subdivisions or arrangements were made according to the predetermined use of
each unit, such as a loft supported by massive piers and low partition walls.
Basins and hearths defined working or rest areas. The floor of habitation units was also used for the
inhumation of the dead. The deceased were buried in pits inside the units which continued to be used
in such a way that dead remained with the living and that death caused no disruption to the cohesion
of the community.
The reconstruction was modelled on an ethno-archaeological approach based upon both the
interpretation resulting from the archaeological evidence and on Cypriot traditional architectural building
(unbaked mud brick, mortar for the joint-filling, plaster), the roof and floors.
The museum is open from Monday to Friday from 7.30 am to 5 pm.
On Saturday and Sunday though it opens from 9 am to 5pm.
The fee to get inside is just 1.70 euros.


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Comgrats to you, you must be so excited....I will keep my fingers crossed for you...going to look at the quilt right now..
Welcome to the Quilting Board!
Comgrats to you, you must be so excited....I will keep my fingers crossed for you...going to look at the quilt right now..
Congrats,......We have a star among us again. SO many talented members.
Funny, my hubby just called and asked if I wanted my cyanotype supplies outside. At first I was confused, then remembered I had just done some printing, then came in to find my granddaughter needed help with the purse she was making, and before I answered her question, hubby told me about Leah's email. So, I left my blanket, films and large glass piece outside all night! Thank you, Lord, that we got no hail last night! Once I heard about the email announing I was a finalist, I just forgot everything, and had to run over to my daughter's house to tell her in person, about the quilt of her being accepted.
My quilt did not make the final cut. See here for more:
http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-157047-1.htm Of course I am disappointed, but not too much. It truly was a great honor to be chosen as a finalist. And I learned so much! Then, of course is the consolation prize - uber cool.


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Offer is subject to change. Does not apply to sale items.
Tee Sizing Charts
From the Artist
- Tell us a bit about this design and what is the message or meaning you're trying to convey.
- From West Philly to Bel Air, you always need to look FRESH! Inspired by the Big Willy style of a certain Prince, this design will no doubt get heads turning, even if your parents don't understand.
- Who are you?
- Tracy Tubera AKA the ÜBER ILLUSTRATOR SUPREME has a style that is a mix of Graffiti, Anime, & Comic Book art. His artwork has an acute attention to sharp, crisp line work with splashes of Bright Pop colors and a dash of humor.
- Any shout outs?
- For more info about my art & what I am up to, follow me on INSTAGRAM & TWITTER: @tracytubera or hit up my website: tracytubera.com Thanks for the support! C.S.T.H.


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- Home
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