The Raping and Killing of Women in India

     Recently there has been the reporting of a woman, a 23 year old medical student who was gang raped and beaten so badly she later died in hospital.  Last night in the news and do not read this part if it is too horrible to read, go to the next sentence after this sentence.   A two year old girl whose hands were tied behind her back was raped.  She too died.  That broke my heart.  What gives me hope is the uprise of protests that are going on in that city.  Men and women are protesting in the streets and I see a flicker of hope.  It is when men say enough is enough, that other men listen in Patriarchal societies. 

     Many years ago in my first career, a man let me read a paper from his home city.  He had moved to Canada from India where he served as a military officer.  I really liked this man.  He told me he had come to Canada to give his daughter a new life.  He told me how poorly women were thought of and how babies were aborted for the sole reason that they were female.  I pondered at the time.  If they kill all the females who will be left to reproduce?  It is a long time that I did not see this man and I do hope that he is doing well and Canada appreciates him.  I certainly did.  I have met so many good people who have come here from India to escape or to find a home where their children can grow up in a safe community.  We all have a responsibility to do just that.  Keep our country safe and not let poison tarnish it. 

     I met another man from India years ago.  After speaking to him many many times, and after him getting a promotion, and having a new baby girl in his life, he was so devoted to, he told me his story.  I thought and marveled how this kind and gentle man had suffered so much in his home country.  Suddenly, at the end of his long story, he yelled out, “Canada, I love this country!”  That bellowed in the hallway of where he stood, a humble man.  The hallway was busy and noisy with people and no one reacted to his shout.

     Another man, not from India, told me that he had to work for a woman he did not like.  He told me that in his country a woman knew her place, but if he was to survive in Canada he would need to change his views.   I saw hope in this young man.  As we talked more, I realized how torn he was from being raised in a Country where the voice of women was silenced, to coming to Canada and working for one.   I used to tease this man mercilessly and he took it so well.  I hope he can form a positive and healthy relationship with a woman in this country.  I hope that for the sake of my country.

     A woman from a Middle Eastern country in one of my undergrad classes spoke of how North American women were nothing but sluts and deserved to be raped.  After all we all dressed like sluts.  A male student took offense to that and tried to rationalize with her.  We were working in groups.  At the time it was best for me to remain silent and observe.  I am hoping that eventually this woman was returned to her country.  We do not need this.  However, I also realized that this woman was also projecting her own view of herself.  I have come to feel sorry for her.  But at that time, I did not feel sorry for her.  At that time, I thought, we were providing her with a home and food and the opportunity to have an education and she was slapping us in return.   She did not complete that class.  We were relieved.  Trying to be polite and respectful of other views can be difficult at times.

    It is unfortunate but in many countries where women are treated so badly, some believe they deserve it.  They integrate the norm of societies.   Women who are circumcised so they cannot have sexual pleasures are held down by other women.  If they are not circumcised than the men from their country will not want them as a wife.

    In one of my undergrad classes, I took a literature course as a break and we were analyzing one book based on Utopia, a perfect paradise.  We were asked how we would like to live in such a place.  I raised my hand and was surprised to find myself from about a class of about 30 or more, alone.  The others found a peaceful world too boring.  That was not the only time I was alone.  Another time, we were studying the plight of a native boy who had been placed in one horrible foster home to another.  Eventually, this loving boy who had lived in so many horrible places and barely experienced love, killed himself.  The argument I posed was why not let loving parents who were not necessarily native adopt him? You see none of the placements were suitable to begin with.  It was already known.  Again I was alone in my stance.  I proposed that it did not matter what nationality the parents were, what was most important was that the child be placed in a loving home.  My view was trumpt by the rest of the class which gave priority that the child should have been placed in a native home, regardless if it was inadequate.  What was lost in all this was that David the young teen killed himself.  Did not his life and death speak volumes?  He deserved to be loved.

     A woman I met owned her own business.  She told me that in her country she was subservient to men.  Here she learned that she does not need to do all the housework and other domestic duties plus work outside of the home.  Here in Canada she realized that she has choices and a voice.  This was alien to her before.  She did not realize she had a voice.  She did not realize there was another way of life.  She had accepted her previous role as normal, as that is all she knew.  Does that cause conflict with her husband and sons?  Of course it does because such changes always cause some disturbance to someone.  Moving from a Patriarchal society where a woman is nothing or less important than any male, to Canada where a woman has equal opportunity by law, will cause friction if the males in that family do not agree.

     I am pleased that the men and women in India are protesting about the young medical student who lost her life after being raped and brutally beaten.  How many lives could this young woman have saved?  Who are these cowardly men who cover their faces for fear of their lives?  What are their stories?  What about the government who fails to protect their people? 

     What if women who are not appreciated found their own utopia and left their men behind alone with no women for them to rape and torture.  What would happen then?  The devastation that rape has on anyone, man or woman is damaging to their spirit.  That happiness and trust is diminished.  No one has the right to do this to another person and to a child it is more horrid.        

     What we need to remember is that in any country there are always good men as well as good women.  It is my belief that the world has a responsibility to take care of itself including its people.  We have a responsibility to pay attention to what happens in the world and to try to make it a bit better.  Leadership should have decency and when it does not, the rest must pay attention and not ignore what is happening.  I am glad that this is in the news, because only then is leadership forced to make a decision.  

     I have met too many people both women and men (before I provided psychothery) who were suffering from being subjected to sexual assault at some point in their lives and never went to see anyone about it.  If you have been assaulted please take the time to seek help for it, even if you think you do not need it.  Find a therapist you feel you can trust and don't stop at the first one if there is no connection.  Check out different ones out until you feel safe with one.  Trust takes time and give yourself that time.  Sometimes we need to face the past in a safe place to move forward.  What do you think?

Snow, incoming from the USA

     I am really enjoying my holiday but I am afraid that my cold is returning.  At least that is what my lungs are telling me.  I awoke to find lots of snow outside to the point that my pets tried to go out, only to return promptly.  The female refused to go out and the male attempted it.  My pets who had such a hard beginning in their lives are now perfectly settled in their warm home, surrounded by lots of love and food.  No more mean people and streets for these two.  They are quite content living the life of Rielley.  One acts like a princess and appears to have been one all her life, only misplaced for awhile.  The other is the alpha male who has no liking for any human except for me.  I am flattered.  He is also very affectionate, which took some time.  He only gets mad at me when I have company.  I wonder if that will ever change?  If that happens, I may be able to take a real vacation.  Time and patience and lots of love is my recipe for any animal. 

     The snow is now mercilessly blowing.  Aw, it is my neighbour with his snow blower, blowing everything against my bay window.  One look outside and he controls that.  Aw, people!  What one appropriate look can achieve.  Words are not always required.

     Now, I shall return to writing my book, before braving the snow outside.  I am still at page 171, but no more after today.  This book is written carefully and with clarity.  This one is not written for fun. 
     What are you doing with your lives?  Are you happy?  What are your hobbies?  Do you have any?  Would you like to try something new?  Why not?  Do you have pets?  Do you treat them with love and respect?  Is this the right time in your life to explore who you are and what you want in life?  Who are the people in your life?  How do they treat you?  How do you treat them?  Are you able to communicate with them?  Do they accept you as you are?  Have you started that journal?  If not, try it.  Write down your emotions of what is happening in your life.  Get it out of you.  Your diary can be you talking to yourself, to someone you love, to God..................You can also be talking to your diary.  Don't just record the events in your life, the emotions you feel are important too.  How does it feel when you argue with your spouse, your children, your friends?  What happens inside you?
   
      Wow, my neigbour is now plowing away my snow on my property.  It must have been my sweet look.  There you go.  With every presumption there is another possibility.  What is it that you presume?  Can there be another side to what you are noticing in someone?  Why not take that opportunity to discover who you think you know.

      Well, USA, we will take your snow gractiously.  A little late and not Christmas, but after all, what are neighbours for?  What do you think?
    

Have you had a nice Christmas?

     This was one of my best Christmas's ever.  Today I am resting.  I have been so involved in my starting a practice that I was working perhaps a bit too much.  Now I have had perhaps a bit too much fun.  Balance is always important.  One thing I learned is that I can no longer have coffee at night.  Even my pets permitted me to sleep in which they never do the rest of the year. 
     How has your Christmas been?  Have you had the opportunity to be with people who appreciate you and love you?  If not, perhaps a new year resolution this year, may be to work on that part of your life.  We can never change other people, but we can certainly change ourselves.  There is so much opportunity out there to meet new people, we can welcome into our lives.  If you are not happy in the situation you are in, please think about making those changes to enhance your life.  Life is too short as it is.  Start by loving yourself and realizing that you are worthy of so much more.

     This morning as I was drinking my morning coffee and reading my paper, I heard a beautiful song coming from outside.  I stood up trying to find out who was singing.  Leaning against the open back doorway, I  marvelled at the fat little Cardinal chirping away on one of my trees.  What a wonderful gift of nature.  Family, friends and nature make me happy each Christmas.  What makes you happy?  What do you think?

Merry Christmas !!!!!!! Be proud to say it!!!!!

 

     Yesterday I went to mass at a Senior Home where I would be attending a Christmas party.  The priest spoke of another senior home where he had a mass.  I really like this priest.  He is so good with the seniors.  He was sent to Rome a few years back for a course in his work with seniors and I would have loved to have taken that course, because he is such a gentle heart.  The people love him and it is easy to see why.  He knows everyone by name (which has never been my strongest suit) and he makes each individual feel as special as he and she should feel.

     Yesterday as he remarked about this other senior home, a sadness began to mar his face as he spoke about some senior homes only having a mass service once a month for their residents.  This for a Roman Catholic is unacceptable.  He spoke about how religion is not adequately provided for those who want it and how it will, in his opinion be reduced further in the future.  The provision of religious services may disappear in the future he predicted.  These were not his words. This was my interpretation.  “Perhaps I do too much here,” he spoke out.  He provides mass for these elderly people each day.  They responded in unison, that it cannot ever be too much.  This is true because whenever I visit this home and there is a service, it always appears more attended than my own neighourhood parish.

     At the end of the mass, I approached this sweet priest who so cares for his people.  I told him that I related with his sermon.  I proceeded to tell him how with all the organizations I belong to, one wanted nothing to do with any course I have taken that has anything to do with any spirituality or faith sounds to it.  It disqualified any such course.   I have so many courses that it did not affect me.  Slow me down a bit, perhaps but not seriously affect me.   These courses which were so casually dismissed were taught by an experienced psychologist who happens to be a priest and a Jesuit.  The people who dismissed these courses so casually neither have the education, experience nor wisdom of this delightful man (who hates my book.  He did not tell me this of course but I was informed by one of his confidents). 

     As I rushed my words out to the delightful priest he respond, “More contemplation and less medication.”    Those words really had an impact on me and I realized that I have not been contemplating enough myself.  As I completed my formal studies, I became caught up in life.  Starting a practice is a full time job, one that our studies do not prepare us for.  We have to become concerned with the business side of things.  My mother once said that I make money from the sufferings of others.  I quickly responded that physicians make money at the suffering of others.  She agreed.  “Besides,” I continued unnecessarily, “I do not make that much money at all.”  I obviously spent more money on my studies, professional development, seminars, insurance, etc…than what I am paid.  “If I did not have income from other sources I would not be able to do what I do,” I argued.   She did not say anything further.  The point was already made that I needed to survive too.  “How is your book coming along?”  She asked.  “Have you stopped writing?”  “No.”  I responded.  I told her I was still at 171 pages and expected to write a couple of more hundreds but I stopped for a bit, because of life again.  It appears I need to upgrade all my electrical in my home.  Even though an old house has lots of charm and is solid it needs to be upgraded.  And electricians want to be paid like physicians without the education to match.  I could have saved so much money going into that field and be making a small fortune now.

But let me return to what I was saying before I was curtailed by life – seniors – religion.

     Are religious services disappearing for seniors?  Is religion disappearing?  Here it is Christmas Eve.  I have had two days of parties and I am tired already.  I returned home yesterday to watch some Christmas shows that were not too Christmassy at all.  I tape everything and then watch what I want when I have the time.  I deleted most of what I had taped.  I watched a rerun of Home Alone, part 2 and five I believe.  Five is never as good as one and did not come close to two -  disappointed once again with  all the different actors and without the same punch.   I suppose I wanted to hear some Christmas music like Silent Night and the only thing that came close was some rock version.  I didn’t even bother taping any of the Canadian Christmas shows.  The one I watched last year was from a Canadian talent whose satire about Christmas with sexual overtures was so disappointing that I feared watching anything else.

     Merry Christmas is a greeting which is said with some reserve these days.  Clerks at stores tell me that they are not allowed to say it.  They have to say, “Happy Holidays.”  I have to add Merry Christmas to my cards now.  At one party I went to, a man told me that this year his institution is not having any party associated with Christmas and that ironically it was a Jewish person who complained about that.  I did not find that ironic at all.  The high school I went to had many Jewish students and I never heard a complaint about Christmas celebrations.  It took one college student to complain about angels on a tree to have every angel removed from the trees.  Whenever, I see an angel on a tree, I celebrate.  What is it that has made Christmas a negative connotation?  A lawyer last year in Toronto or was it the year before, had a Christmas tree removed from the lobby.  A politician with more sense over ruled her.  The Nativity set at old city hall has once again this year been vandalized.  A business man at his own expense installed some sort of glass enclosure that he assured cannot be broken.   Where is Jesus in Christmas?  The only time I have felt this is when I went to a communist country.  Is it not in Communist countries where religion is considered a negative?  What does this mean? 

      I do not think that religion should be shoved down anyone’s throat.  But where is the respect for those who are elderly and have a religion not to be able to practice it?  Where are we moving to?  Are we moving ahead or backwards?  I understand that religion can have a negative connotation for some.  With self professed preachers burning bibles of another religion to instigate them is not very holy.  For people to profess to love God while looking down at those less fortunate, to kill, to rape, to abuse all in the name of God is not what religion is about.  Christmas should be a time of peace, of joy, of giving and of love. 

    At this senior home where I was yesterday, this priest who had brought birds to the home had to remove them.  Elderly people used to sit and watch these birds for hours.  Yet some family members thought them disgusting and so they were removed.  I got this from reception, or words to that effect.

     It was an American man who was looking for a senior home for his mother but could not find anything appropriate for her, who introduced a new concept.  This was brought to Canada.  In my undergrad all my courses were in psychology or related to health (except if I felt the need to give my brain a rest.  Then I would take an English or creative course).  Since nurses had five years to get a degree I had many in my classes.  We learned from each other as well.  There was always so much experience in the room.   Animals were found to enhance the well being for seniors.  Seniors having responsibility such as watering plants also improved.  Cats would settle on a bed where an elderly person was dying before anyone knew he was.  Once a pet owner died, another would take the responsibility for the feeding.  It was found that not only did the Seniors live longer but they were healthier and happier as well.  We need to step back and reflect when listening to complaints about what one considers offensive.  That American man who wanted something more for his mother knew that a senior home had to be more than an institution.  It had to have a real home experience with pets and plants.  At that time there was one home in Toronto following that concept according to one of my classmates fortunate enough to experience the benefits it has.  

     I looked at my mother and told her how wonderful her Christmas party was.  I told her that each moment I have with her is a gift.  I told her that when I grow old they probably won’t be concerned about how much fibre I have.  Being a baby boomer, there will be so many of us that they will try to figure out how to diminish our numbers before we drain the system.  But I pause as I contemplate.  We have a new generation of youths who give me hope.  They seem to be more compassionate and take an active role in helping others.  I wonder, maybe they won’t put us all to sleep.  Maybe they will not abandon the old.  Maybe just maybe, they will permit seniors to enjoy their pets or birds.  Maybe, just maybe, they will allow a senior to practice their religion and provide the services for it.  Maybe just maybe there is hope that we may once again move forward rather than backwards.  Maybe just maybe we may once again know what it means to live in a democratic society once again where it means more than just speaking your mind but living it. 

     Yes Father, I have been contemplating.  Your words touched me.  Your parting words of less medication and more contemplation I immediately responded to.  Medication is important.  There are chemical imbalances that can be controlled with medication.  However, people do need identify with the source of their problems which requires exploration and recognition.  This should not be denied them.  People need to be treated as a whole person.

     Today I am off for another celebration.  I used to be able to party and party but I have slowed down.  Yesterday I was more tired than my elderly mom.  She was happy and I was exhausted after a three and a half hour dining experience (with no Christmas music.  She noticed). 

    The night before, I was stopped in the ride program.  There were about five policemen (no women?) and one lane was cordoned off.  I was stopped of course and I had nowhere to pull over since one lane was closed.  There was traffic behind me.  He asked me how much I had to drink.  “Nothing ?”  I said.  I wanted to say I had ten drinks but I did not want to be arrested needlessly.  Besides I really did not drink anything with alcohol in it.  It takes one drink to floor me.  So if  I drive, I do not normally drink at all.  “He reached inside my car his head lowered to smell any possible alcohol.  I wanted to ask him,  if I had been impaired and therefore should not be driving how I would still have to move my car since traffic was being blocked this way.  But this was not the time to have this discussion.  He waved me through after much surprise that indeed I did not drink anything at all.  It must have been my car.     

     This year I wish you all a Merry Christmas.  May each one of you have a special person you can share Christmas with and if not, remember what Christmas is and that you are never truly left alone.  Thank you for reading my blogs. 

      Every time you hear a bell remember that an angel has got its’ wings – It is a wonder life!

Merry Christmas

Silva

TRIBUTE TO MY POSTMAN (at Christmas) published

TRIBUTE TO MY POSTMAN

It was the Christmas season and the previous year I had left a gift for my postman on a decrepit old chair, inside my small porch.  When the day had passed and I received my mail, I noticed that my small gift remained though the card that said “for my postman” was gone.   

Not disheartened, I left the small gift there for a week where it remained. 

The following week, I replaced the small gift with another.  I left a note, “For my post man.”   Again, the gift remained, though my mail was delivered promptly each day. 

I did not give up and on the third week after placing a bigger gift on the tired chair, I came home and was excited that the gift was gone.  My mail waited eagerly for me.  I marveled that finally my post man was pleased with a gift that I had left.  You see they were all wrapped so that the interior could be seen.

A year has gone by and Christmas is creeping up.  It has not snowed and I am weighed down with school work so I am not in the holiday spirit.  But I have not forgotten my postman so once again I left a small gift for him with a card and placed the card and the small gift on the same decrepit old chair.  Only this time I placed the chair directly in front of my door which he would have to move or lean over to put the mail through my letter opening, on the old door of my old home.  I then promptly focused on my exam question and forgot my mail and mail man.

I heard a loud knock at my front door.  I climbed down the tired stairs and rushed to the front door opening it.  There stood my postman, all rosy from the cold.  He looked at me and I thought he would cry.  He must have hated my gift, I thought.  Instead he looked at me solemnly and thanked me.  “You have no idea how much this means to me.  Even a card makes me very happy.  Thank you so much.”

I looked at him in surprise and thanked him.  Like a fool I babbled about last year leaving different gifts which I thought he had dismissed because he did not like them.  He assured me that he appreciates any gift or card but since he moves quickly when he delivers the mail he may have missed his gifts.  He kept thanking me for his small gift and I felt dumbfounded.

You see my postman delivers the mail into the letter opening of my door at all times.  He does not save time doing this for he could easily just leave it on the decrepit old chair in my small porch. 

I have watched my postman walk or run in the rain during intense suffocating heat, during storms and with snow so deep it makes one wonder how he does his job at all.  Yet, my postman always has a friendly smile and shouts out a greeting whenever he sees me outside.

So you see, though I left him gifts, outside my door which I thought he did not want, I kept replacing them because he more than deserves a gift that he wants.

And when my post man was so appreciative with my small gift yesterday it was I who fought tears as I shut the door.      

Christmas is about love, is it not?

     I was shopping at Costco last week for Christmas and I saw a handsome man fill his cart with large expensive gift packages.  He smiled at me and I smiled back.  He was full of the spirit of giving.  What I wanted to say was, "Hi Santa where is your white beard and hair, and don't forget me this Christmas."  But, I kept my mouth shut, which I have difficulty doing most days.  I still believe in Santa Claus.  Perhaps I kept my mouth shut because I was still feeling the effects of my cold or flu which the walk in doctor had suggested I could have.  I always thought I needed a fever for it to be a flu, but who am I to argue with a physician.  It is her domain after all.   I looked at the huge gift baskets which would not fit in my car nor my budget and I picked a small lovely package which looks pretty good when it is alone, afar from the big stuff.
     I love Christmas.  It is my favourite time of the year.  I love the Christmas lights, the Christmas cards and all the commercialism surrounding it, because it motivates my thoughts of Christmas.  Many people complain about commercialism but I lived somewhere once where there was none of that and what I felt I was missing was the spirit of Christmas.  It seemed absent to me.  So bring on all the commercialism because all it does for me is get me excited about Christmas and not the shopping. 
     Gift exchanges are special to me.  I do not care about the amount of money or what the gift is.  It could be a biscuit and I would be happy.  Years ago I was asked by a child if I could give her money instead of a gift.  I knew immediately that it was not the child speaking.  It must have been a parent.  This child was learning that money was important at Christmas, not the thought.  I explained to the child that I could never compete with the amount of money she receives.  I explained that when I choose her gift, I search for something for her that I think is special (looks expensive but is not).  I have never received a gift from her but this is not her fault.  She never learned about giving, just receiving.  This Christmas why not remember its roots?  What is the meaning of Christmas?  Are we lost in providing the biggest gifts and receiving them in exchange? Why not spend some time with an elderly person and holding them so they can feel what it is like being touched again?  Why not visit a neighbour who always seems alone and make them feel special for a tiny bit of your life?  Why not accept that gift graciously even if it is not what you want?  I always buy myself something at Christmas.  I do not expect others to buy extravagently for me.  What I do like, is to receive a card or letter (that is just for me and not a hundred others).  What I do like is a smile.  I do not need all the things that I can actually buy myself.  What I think is most important is the thought.  Why not look outside yourself this year and really look into the faces of others.  A smile can be a magical moment.  Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakah and Happy Holidays.

Underground Railroad

Underground Railroad  by Larry Gara, Brenda Stevenson, and Peter

Ripley            essay: by Silva Redigonda 

     The central idea of this book is the escape of Black African slaves via the Underground Railroad.  The authors provide a history of origin of how the Black Africans were captured from their own land in Africa, their resistance, their torture and finally their escape via the Underground Railroad. 

     The authors use a historical account of events and facts to demonstrate the theme.  The story is told "in the context of a free North and a slaveholding South."  There are accounts of rescues, underground hidings and tunnels connecting nearby rivers to the stations. This is the Underground Railroad, particular routes where people both Black and White helped slaves escape mostly to Canada.  What is considered are the existing laws during this period, the perils of the people captured and those helping them and the obstacles found in the North.  What is missing is the emotional void when families are split, due mostly to the factual historical account. What is demonstrated is the means in which slave owners try to retrieve what they consider their property, their logic in trying to justify keeping their slaves and the resistance to the law when freedom is granted.  Freedom for the African American is ultimately not what it is believed to be because prejudice still reigns despite changing laws.  The text indicates that religion; dance, music and food were vital aspects of the slaves' cultural life. It is interesting that it was the Quakers who opposed slavery, yet there was division regarding the Underground Railroad.  Many thought it too extreme.

     There is an accurate portrayal of the 19^th century politics. In 1833, William Lloyd Garrison heads New England Anti-Slavery Society. Britain passes the Emancipation Act freeing slaves and outlawing the slave trade.  In the 1830's Committees organize in Northern cities to prevent the return of fugitive slaves to the South.  In the 1850's Fugitive Slave law requires escapees to be returned. In 1861 the Civil war begins.  In 1863 Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation takes effect abolishing slavery in Confederacy. There is a recruitment of "blacks" as soldiers. In 1865 the Civil War ends in April.  Thirteenth amendment to the U.S. Constitution outlaws slavery and Lincoln is assassinated.        

     The authors are persuasive in sustaining the effectiveness of the Underground Railroad. It separates myth from actual accounts.  The details from escaped slaves are utilized to project truth. Harriet Tubman (1823-1913) was born into slavery about 1820 in Dorchester County, Maryland.  She escaped in 1848 to Philadelphia and returned to Maryland's Eastern Shore area about twenty times, leading more than 300 runaway slaves to freedom.  It is unknown exactly how many African Americans made the journey on the Underground Railway.  Runaways are estimated at about 100,000 prior to the Civil War.  Most fugitive slaves were illiterate and left few records. 

     Slavery was outlawed in Canada in 1834 and officials refused U.S. requests for the return of slaves.  That did not prevent men from entering Canada in attempts to retrieve runaway slaves.  By the end of the Civil war the majority of Black Africans, at least 20,000 headed for Canada.  The provision of numbered accounts, dates, and stories of individual slaves throughout the text permits the reader to understand the period of the 19^th century as it pertains in this context.  The authors do not impose opinions or judgement.  It is strictly a historical account.  What is missing is the emotion of the story.  It is a text full of dates and accounts of various locations.  Yes people are telling their stories but the emotion is too controlled.

    This book is interesting.  Though the book is a historical account it does provoke emotions from the photographs of slaves in captivity.  There is one photograph of a captured slave in shackles, covered by a net.  This man is captured in Africa and the brass he wears tells us that he is an African King.  This man sits looking at the camera proudly with scorn and contempt.  Trapped as an Students of all ages should be aware of how easily equality is dismissed.  It teaches the abuse of power for personal gain.  It makes us ashamed of what we do, what we are capable of, and what we don't do to stop injustice.          animal, this man is the heroic one. This image is the story.  This is a story that should be taught in schools. 

The Story of the Pope: PIUS XII, by Robert L. Reynolds

             Review by Silva Redigonda

     Though the title implies that the focus of this book is about Pius XII, the book's central focus is rather about the structure and life of the Vatican and Roman Catholic Church. Pope Pius XII is written in the text of the present Pope and very little appears to be known of him.

     The author describes daily life in the Vatican.  The author also provides a list of presiding staff with a brief discussion of their origins.  More importantly the structure of the Roman Catholic Church is presented in the form of a diagram which offers the reader an appreciation of its' Corporate structure.  The Vatican is presented as self-sufficient in daily activities, and one recognizes whether Catholic or not, the enormous power of the Catholic Church.  What is interesting in the format of this book is that the author divides topics with narratives of Pope PIUS XII.  What is also presented is the power of the Pope.  When the Pope speaks, the world hears. 

     The author states that the Pope [Pius XII] "is immensely powerful."  He supports this by indicating that the Pope is the spiritual ruler and guide for almost a fifth of the human race.  Infallibility of a Pope is described. "Nor in his capacity as this man or that, but in virtue of his dignity and office…At the decisive moment, when he speaks ex cathedra, Pius and Leo fade into the background; it is the office, the role of the apostle, the Holy Ghost, which is there." 

      The author indicates that during the eighteen years of Pope XII's reign three periods are significant [as part of the 19^th century].  This is regards the many people wanting to see him, Catholic and non-religious alike.  One is WWII, when the Pope received hundreds of thousands of servicemen and women of every allied nation. The second is in 1950, the Holy year and the third is the Marian Year of 1954-55, when pilgrims were in the millions.  The author mentions that the Pope was taken aback when meeting service women, wearing army shirts and trousers.  Though visibly shaken, the Pope recovered quickly.  This is not surprising considering the photographs in the book that depict a sea of men who are priests and in different levels of power structure. There are scenes of men in lecture halls and men walking together in groups.  Women, are scarce and certainly not among the Great. One nun is mentioned as having a position close to the Pope in the Vatican and that is Sister Pasqualina who was head of Pope Pius XII's household staff including six nuns who were cooks.  It is interesting that women appear influential, as mothers of men who choose priesthood.  Yet, women so alienated may remain a mystery to them.   

     The author depicts Pope Pius Xll as a man who was alone [as most great men are].  Once Pope, Pius Xll ate breakfast alone though it was not required by law. One wonders if this was his own time to prepare and face the burdens of the day unswayed and alone with God. The author discloses that when Hitler's Wehrmacht went into Poland, those with the Pope at the time and seeing him receive this news, "saw him walk slowly into his private chapel…[where he] began to sob deeply."

     This book is highly recommended.  Though the theme appears to be regarding the structure of the Catholic Church and Vatican,  the reader focused on Pope XII.  From the basis of this book the reader respects Pope XII as the leader of her Church in the 19^th century and appreciates him as a man who may have been somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of women in other than traditional roles.  The reader feels that Pope XII was a holy man who grieved for the world.

     Robert Reynolds has provided enough information about the Church that encourages any reader to want more of it.  One will want to read more of Popes, more of the Vatican and how it operates and more of the structure of the Roman Catholic Church.  It motivates one to compare the Church of the 19^th century to that of the 21^st century.  This book initiates interest to venture deeper into the Roman Catholic Church, its’ structure, its' history, its' Popes, its' clergy and most important its' people.  

Bepi - Published

We are gathered here today to remember Bepi.  Bepi immigrated to this country from Italy and later sent for his bride more than 40 years ago.  Together they had four children.  Bepi worked hard all his life and led a very simple life.  He was a carpenter and with those skills, he raised and educated his family.  Bepi enjoyed the simple things in life.  He loved his garden that provided fresh vegetables.  He would marvel at the beauty of nature, as he nurtured his roses and different colorful fruits all from his labor.  I loved Bepi.  I loved Bepi because he was a kind man, a gentle man.  He was the only man aside from my own father that I could open the door to and it did not matter how I looked because he always envisioned me as a child and not as a woman.  I loved Bepi because he was the only person aside from my father who refused to take any money when I needed his carpentry skills.  You see Bepi was generous with his self.  This generosity expanded to everyone who knew him.  And if there is a heaven then Bepi is already there watching us and pleased that we are all with him today.

          I have written this for Bepi because there was no eulogy that day in church.  Just prior to entering the church I saw his casket in the limousine.  He was all alone.  Others were in the comfort of their own limousines.  I touched the door near where he lay and entered the church.  I did not want to do this for I felt that he should not be alone.  I knew it was cold but someone should have been at his side.

                Inside the church there were many people and all were watching each other to determine who had come.  They would have something to talk about later.  You see Bepi did not have any real friends.  Bepi was always ignored.  And on that day, his day, he was alone in his limousine while his family kept warm in another.  And the minister raved on about heaven and hell and judgement day and did not speak of Bepi.  For if he knew Bepi, he would have known there was no need to speak of such things because for Bepi there could only be heaven.  But the minister failed to see Bepi because he saw a congregation of people that were in his church who were not normally there.  So, he took the opportunity to warn this flock that death was near and so was hell and heaven.  So, once again Bepi was ignored.

So Bepi, I want you to know that I love you and have always cared for you and treated you with respect when I know so many others failed you.  I want you to know that though there was no eulogy for you in church that day, there will be one for you today.  Because Bepi you deserve to have your story told.  I loved you and would have been proud to have you as my father.  I would have held my head high.  I want you to know that though there was no police escort for you that day along the many miles to a cemetery that is so far from your home, you had an escort of angels as you looked down from above.

Good by my friend. 

Will you be ok this Christmas season?

Christmas is a time of joy for many.  Sparkling lights, beautifully lit and adorned trees, lots of shopping and fun with family and friends.  Is this you?  How about another side of life?  Alone and abandoned by family, isolated with no friends, feeling hopeless, drained and sad?  Afraid that you won't get that A which will drive you to suicide?  |Failing school and feeling a failure?  Working hard for your family to give them what they need this Christmas but not being with them, their most cherished gift?  Are you happy with the busyness of the season?  Are you frustrated and anxious knowing you are on your own?  Have you seen too much sadness in your work, to enjoy yourself in your personal life?  Are you far from home this year because of other commitments which keeps you from your family?  Are you being abused at home?  Are your pets being abused?  What do you do?

     As much as some people enjoy the holidays, others fall into a pit of desperation?  Do you recognise yourself in any of the above?  Do you have your own story?  Where are you in this picture?  Do you feel strong enough to deal with all your woes because therapy is just for the weak?  Really?  Are you feeling that you cannot escape the abuse you find yourself in?  Really?  Have you been convinced that you are the cause of another's rage?  Do you believe it?  Who are you?  Have you lost yourself? 

     Why not take some time today and ask yourself, "Who am I?"  That is all.  Think about where you may be at this point of yourself and ask that question?  Do you think you are who you are told you are?  What is making you sad?  Look in the mirror and ask yourself this question.  Then write it down.  Take as much time as you need.  How do you define you?  Do you define yourself by your work?  Do you define yourself by your abusive partner?  Do you define yourself as a role in a family unit?  Who are you?  After you take your time to write that all down, ask yourself how you feel about who you are?  Now, take another look at the mirror and ask yourself, how do you find the person you want to be?  There is no shame is getting the help you need.  I think that it depicts strength.  If you are being abused why not take steps today to regain your self?  Why not close the door to what makes you feel so unhappy and open a new door to discover a new you, or simply reclaim yourself.  What do you think?