"Manna from Heaven" - a (true--sort of--one-act play about...bread and grifting)

And now, something truly amazing; something truly spectacular. Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, come forward and let me introduce you to one of the modern miracles of our time: a product so amazing that you can't believe how simple and how effective it is; that youth, vitality, mobility, and liberation are yours to have, protect, and keep for yourself, all in a neat and modest little package. Allow me the privilege of introducing to you the most fascinating gift that mankind has been offered in centuries:

the new manna from Heaven!

Yes, this is a true story. I saw it happen before my own eyes. An elderly woman in a supermarket walked away from her tripod walking device, and in doing so, she carried under her arm like a football (rugby, Australian rules, if you wish, but American style will do) a loaf of bread!  

Naturally, I was intrigued by this manifestation of miraculous healing, and sought out the reason for its origin. To my surprise and delight, I found that this grandmotherly type had simply overlooked the fact that she was no longer using her cane-device, but had instead been able to perambulate with the comfort and aid of the loaf of bread as a stabilizing assistant to her locomotion. When I showed her the cane and pointed out the disparity between her choices, she insisted that I return the original and take away the latter--to which I refused, declaring that she should accept the replacement and embrace its healing abilities.

Of course, she did not readily accept my counsel, and made repeated and vociferous efforts to claim back the now-outdated tool--and I kept it from her as a means to bring attention to the success of the alternative. To my eventual dismay and subsequent horror of my (ex)-wife, it took a kick in the shins for me to return the old woman to the tragedy of her judgment.  

But so! in my earnest ways, I sought a means to provide the common populace with the knowledge that she had overlooked, and thus, may I present for your edification and higher learning, the virtues from which you may gain insight about this matter.

MANNA  FROM  HEAVEN - A one-act play

 Cast of Characters

 The “Doctor” - A “cures-all-that-ails you” snake-oil salesman/con artist.

A grifter from the Old South, the honorable Buford E. Puckett.

 The Old Woman - Elderly woman with a dowager’s hump, uses a cane to move around, out shopping for groceries.

“Doctor’s assistant” - Young woman, “Miss Alice.”

 Various townspeople who give donations to the “preacher-doctor” as he speaks.

 Assorted townspeople who become customers, including a young boy who threatens to disrupt the “doctor’s” sales presentation.

 Scene

 Town Courthouse for rural community in the Farm Belt, @ 1880’s

 Time

 Late afternoon; a hot summer day

 Setting:  

A large gathering of townspeople has come to hear the “doctor” speak at the local courthouse.

At Rise:  

It is late in the afternoon on a hot summer day.  The “doctor” is standing behind a table at center stage.  A ballot box, with a slot on top, has been placed in the middle of the table.  As the “doctor” speaks, people come forward from the gathering crowd and drop envelopes stuffed with money into the box.  The “doctor” is approximately 50 years old, with a curled wax mustache and gray streaks in his hair.  Two tables are set on the wings of the stage: one is full of canned goods and preserved meats, and the other is stacked with loaves of bread.  The “doctor” is pleased to see the audience of townspeople, and he speaks with great enthusiasm and deliberate zest.

 “Doctor”

          Ladies and gentlemen, my good neighbors in the community of man and womankind, generous patrons of social development and higher institutions of literacy, education and civilization, welcome one and all.  Allow me to humbly introduce myself:  The Reverend Dr. Buford Elijah Puckett, of the Charleston Puckett’s, at your service and conduct as a mere vessel of presentation, doing the work of our exalted Creator in Heaven.  May I express the wellspring of gratitude that draws up from my beating heart to see your earnestness and overwhelming desire.  It makes my soul feel good to know that your lives are now so much more special in the eyes of our Lord, to have brought you here on this warm summer day, to hear my message and the rewards of life that He has instructed me to provide to you!

          I once witnessed the healing of a person with an affliction, and the mighty work that manifested this miracle is the reason that I stand before you today.  Yes, may I say that it nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes to see this blessed event, praise the heavens for letting me be a vehicle of testimony in these rugged times of disbelief and doubt.  Dare I say, that this wondrous event was enacted before me, without so much as my raising my hands to chase away the unclean embrace of Old Scratch, the Devil himself?!  Indeed, I stand ready to rush forward at a moment’s notice, to wrestle against the works of sin and hardened cruelty, with the tools of hard work and honest living as my shield and sword.  I was given the realization that in all walks of life, blessed treasures are offered to those who are aware of the proper calling and follow it.

(He turns and points grandly

 with a sweeping gesture of his

arm towards the ballot box, as people in the

crowd push forward to drop in their envelopes)

 

          I swear by the generous offerings and donations that are filling this box...that the glory and power is in all of us to bring our message, and that the joy and true measure of your faith is credited by the gifts you are bringing forward.  I must share with you the uplifting of inspiration and value for the sincere and pure embrace with which you good people show for a warrior of the Lord, who is in service of your needs.  (He points to various members of the crowd)

          Let me assure you that you, yes, you sir, and you, madam, even you there sir; you too can be healed of your pains, your aches and torment and woes, the sorrows from the physical burdens that ail and afflict you, as the weary hand of Father Time rests upon your shoulder.  And all you need to do...

(He pauses and smiles gently as a man wearing overalls and a battered straw hat climbs up and drops an envelope in the box, and shakes PUCKETT’s hand generously, then exits)

 

...thank you, my good fellow, that’s very noble of you, sir!  How thoughtful and kind you are, indeed!...all you need to do, is hear my message and let your conscience assist you.  I have been instructed to bring to the flock of children that our Lord calls His own, a personal offer of a timely gift of the same wonderful treasure from Heaven that took the burden of discomfort from a lady in need.  A lady such as this kind and gentle dear sweet soul coming up to me now.

(He turns and gestures a welcome to an OLD WOMAN shuffling in from side stage to greet him with an envelope in her hand.

She drops it in the box and smiles at him, and he puts his arm around her shoulder and presents her to the crowd)

          Look at her, ladies and gentlemen, isn’t she a dear?  Thank you, ma’am, for your sacrifice and timely donation, the envelope box is just the right size for so simple an offering as you have provided, and I assure you as the Lord looks down, He values your kindness most generously, as do I!  And yea! Let me give my word as truth, that if my eyes had not known otherwise, I would have sworn that this was the same woman...no, I must be mistaken, madam, you are too spry in appearance, forgive my error...whom I had the wonder, the blessed honor, to see healed yesterday.

(The OLD WOMAN slowly exits)

          Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was in your spacious and well-stocked marketplace the other day, purchasing some needed supplies to present to a local charitable orphanage.  I was escorted by a charming and vivacious member of the Ladies Quilting and Sewing Auxiliary Group, and may I add that your selections of available provisions are well maintained; my compliments to your productivity! 

(A SECOND OLD WOMAN, bent over with a stooped back, has entered from the side stage, using a tripod cane.  She stops at the table piled with bread and tucks it under her arm, and starts to shuffle slowly across the stage in front of PUCKETT.  She has forgotten her cane, which is standing on its tripod setting by the table.

PUCKETT ignores this oversight)

          We had just the briefest moment to greet your kind and gracious mayor, who happened to be personally arranging a private dinner in my behalf, when I came upon the most puzzling and perplexing set of circumstances I have seen since my early days in the seminary in New Hampshire.  To my surprise and total disbelief, I found an abandoned walking cane, alone and without an owner.

(He turns and picks up the walking cane that the OLD WOMAN has forgotten, and waves it at the audience)

          Now I ask you good people:  What would possess anyone with such a need for as valuable and priceless an instrument, to simply neglect it?  I personally took time from my varied and busied schedule, just before my train arrived at your lovely town...

(He stops and pulls a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and examines it at arm’s length.  He nods accordingly, and puts it back)

...the time to review the lengthy, well-documented price structure that I had telegraphed from Philadelphia for such a tool of mobility as this cane.  Ladies and gentlemen, may I speak from the depths of my being when I declare that I was astonished, no, I was overwhelmed, to find that the purchase fee of this walking cane, complete with rubber molded support and ornately carved mahogany wood handle with gold inlay, cost as much as the extraordinary cash amount of what I send on a weekly basis, to support the poor missionaries at work in the tropical rainforests of New Guinea, as they work with the deprived villagers?!  Yes, may I be struck down if I speak falsely:  that exquisite piece of artistry and workmanship, designed to free an afflicted soul from the ravages of time and arthritis, that very precious abandoned cane, was worth fifty fair and solid American dollars.  And to think that someone like this feeble old woman, lost in her very moment of needing to provide herself with nourishment and sustenance, had the temerity, the neglect, the unknowing loss of such valuable merchandise for a vital means of transportation at this pressing time in her life!

          Well, let me say this:  I never fail to return after an extensive, exhaustive search for a proper owner, any item, large or small, no matter, that has wandered lost and abandoned before my path.  Why the other day, I observed a man leaving town in the city of New Orleans by horse and buggy, and in his errant ways, he had overlooked a small satchel amongst his belongings.  Of course, his manner of departure was at such a pace that he had set off and was beyond my ability to call and stop him.  I naturally retrieved this satchel and upon examining its contents, found that he had misplaced several thousand dollars in oil well stock certificates, as well as the property rights to a mineral spring.  I immediately hired a swift horse and rode after this man to the outskirts of town.  My dear friends, can you imagine the look of horror and disbelief that crossed his face, when I caught up to him and showed him what he had nearly lost?  Of course, after much insistence upon his part, I reluctantly accepted a considerable donation for a home for young-mothers-to-be, who are in a most delicate condition without the companionship of a husband.  But I tarry in my story...

(A YOUNG WOMAN, obviously his assistant, enters from side stage and places a pitcher and glass in front of him. The young men of the

town look at her as she moves.  PUCKETT smiles at her, pats her hand, and presents her to the crowd)

          Ah, thank you, my dear.  May I present my dear niece and assistant, my late brother’s daughter, Miss Alice, for whom I am sole surviving relative and guardian.  She has provided me with some delicious lemonade.  How fine it is to have a cool throat and warm words of inspiration to share at the same time!  Now, as for the errant, neglected walking cane!  I immediately tucked it thusly under my arm, and set out in search of the proper owner.

(He puts the cane under his arm, and becomes aware of the OLD WOMAN carrying the loaf of bread, moving along as she examines the other table. He points her out to the audience)

          And lo:  in a manner to which I did not expect to see so quickly, did I find that person!  But may I bear witness, my friends, that this gentle and sweet woman, when I found her, had the ability, the very lightness of her feet, I say she had the vitality, to walk without her cane, because she was healed!  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am here tonight: to bring this heralded message to you.  This paragon of the golden years of life could walk effortlessly, by simply cradling in her arm, a mere loaf of bread.

          Now, I would not ask your minds to ponder the miracle that I beheld.  The good Lord works in many strange and wondrous ways, we have all seen and heard, but few have been given the glory and honor to witness.  I give thanks as a man of honor and duty to you, my brethren, that I have seen the beauty of the work of our Creator in this cherished and glorious manner.  That I was privileged to see the miracle of healing before me, and in so simple a way, my friends, brought tears of joy and thankfulness to my eyes!

(He wipes his face with a handkerchief and looks upward with a smile, and then turns back to the audience)

I dared edge close, and gently took this dear blessed woman by the arm, so as not to disturb the miracle of her recovery.

(He does so and addresses her in a polite manner)

My dear lady, may I ask for the briefest moment of your time?  I have to ask:  would this exquisite implement of mobility be rightfully claimed by your ownership?

(The OLD WOMAN has a startled look on her face.  PUCKETT is obviously holding her walking cane, and she realizes that she has been moving

without it. His unexpected presence and question have taken her by surprise. PUCKETT turns back to the crowd, and his voice and gestures swell with fervor)

          Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot tell you the look of surprise, of sheer thankfulness that crossed her brow!  I begged her forgiveness for making her heart flutter so; I know that a matron of such advanced years needs no hastening to bring her to that blessed moment when we make peace with our Maker and stand before the judgment and glory that is ours in Heaven.  I braced myself to assist her unsteady hands to revive her if necessary, awaiting the usual much-needed bottle of smelling salts that she had hopefully tucked away in her handbag.

(The OLD WOMAN has recovered from his speech and the sight of him holding her cane, and replies in a creaky, scratchy voice)

 

My good man, my cane!  My priceless Malacca wood-and-gold cane!  It has been an heirloom in my family from my dear great-great aunt in England!  Oh my, what are you doing with my cane?

(PUCKETT ignores her remarks and gestures, and replies instead to the audience)

I cannot hide from you kind people the fact that I beamed with joy at the thought of returning so swiftly upon my first effort, this piece of art to its proper owner.  But no, that is just the beginning!  For the miracle that has lightened my load, the crowning glory of my endeavors to bring light to the hidden and dark corners of life was fulfilled when she said...

(PUCKETT turns and gestures to the OLD WOMAN, as if on cue, and SHE replies in a quivering voice)

Oh my, sir, I CAN’T WALK WITHOUT MY CANE!!

(SHE reaches out for it and PUCKETT brushes her hand aside.  HE addresses the crowd)

          Did I hear proper?  Oh, the humility at first that I felt, that the mere return of her valued antique was not her first concern, as I so foolishly believed.  But how rewarding, how honored were the deepest wells of thanks from my heart, as I realized that I had witnessed a greater miracle than I had ever dreamed:  she was indeed walking without this cane!  And the treasured moment of reality was mine when I knew that a simple loaf of bread, a small piece of a baker’s hard toil and effort, had brought this miracle into being!

(HE turns and speaks to the OLD WOMAN)

          Madam, let me be the first to recognize that you are indeed cured of your ailment, and give the thanks and praise to your Creator.  This worthless piece of wood and metal can now be cast aside as an example of how the hand of the Lord can reach down and touch us all!  You are a living testimony to the power and majesty of divine will!  By so simple an act as carrying a loaf of bread, you have cast aside your obstacles and bear the word of the good news of faith and believing!

(The OLD WOMAN is pulling at PUCKETT’s coat sleeve, reaching for her cane.  SHE answers him in a tormented, pleading voice)

But Sir--I need my cane!  I CAN’T WALK WITHOUT IT!!

(SHE is clawing desperately at his arm, but his size and strength, along with her age, make her attempts seem feeble. HE continues to hold the cane aloft in his hand, and waves it at the audience, ignoring her)

          Ah, my friends, how simple the mind can be, if we forget all that the Lord can do.  He can reach down and touch us in so many ways!  Was it all in vain, that this lost child, who had been sadly afflicted by a stooped shoulder and bent knee, could forget that she had been transformed into a vital source of dynamic inspiration and determination, by forging a free and unencumbered manner of movement?  No, I could not let this pearl of opportunity pass thusly by my hands.

(HE turns and speaks to the OLD WOMAN in a reproachful, scolding manner)

No, madam, you are sadly mistaken.  But take heart, there is a far greater reason to cherish this day!  You are healed; yea, I say, you are cured from your prison of propulsion.  Let wings grown on your heels and fly--you can walk, and without the chain and shackle of this wretched stick!

(The OLD WOMAN continues to struggle for her cane, but now SHE is aware of the loaf of bread in her arm, and is trying to keep her balance and not drop it as she continues to grab for her cane.  PUCKETT continues to ignore her

efforts and turns to the audience)

          How blind we are, my good people, to the very door that opens before us.  What more could I say?  But no, I would not give this burden of freedom back to the hands of the Grim Reaper, to hold this daughter captive!  And yet...she reached out in valiant despair and disbelief to wrestle from my hands, this gnarled and twisted piece of ill-constructed wood.  What tragic human error that I had to bear witness to, in my moment of heralding a personal triumph unclaimed!

(PUCKETT turns to speak to the OLD WOMAN)

          Madam, please, can you not take a closer look at the part you are playing to in the world, at this vital fragment of existence in history?  Your piteous tones are breaking the depths of my heart with your blatant ignorance!  A lesser man or woman would be weeping, but you have climbed above the pain and suffering of the fragility of your condition!  You have been given the chance to run barefoot through fields of clover, you can share a grandchild’s first steps, you can dance in slippers of finest silk, whenever you wish.  You are freed from your impairment!  Rejoice, and relinquish the futile grip you have fastened upon this wretched and useless remnant of a tree branch!

(The OLD WOMAN wails in a tortured voice as she struggles to reach her cane)

Please, Sir!  My cane!  MY CANE!!

(PUCKETT turns to face the crowd, slowly shaking his head in disbelief at her words)

          My friends, I must confess that her desperate ways convinced me of her reluctance, and I hide my face in shame to admit that her furrowed, wrinkled face was lined with relief when I handed back to her the object of her desire.  I could no longer hold back her overpowering fear, and with an inner sigh of remorse, returned back to her the cane.  I would rather have bent it into a twisted horseshoe with my bare hands, rather than see it trick her into the falsehood of dependency.  Would it be any easier to say that she thanked me with a token of appreciation, with a stipend of gratuity to further my cause?...no, she snatched it away like an eagle plucking the flesh from its prey.

(The OLD WOMAN grabs the cane angrily from

him, and slowly exits to the side stage.  She is still carrying the loaf of bread under her arm, but she is not using  the cane.  Instead, she is holding it in the air, shaking it vigorously, accenting her anger. She appears to be bitterly talking to herself.  PUCKETT watches her shuffle away and then faces the audience and beams at them)

And then she turned away...and her muffled feet made a sound that I still hear in my deepest sleep, reminding me of the lack of trust, of comfort, of honesty, in the true message of one such as I, a man who devotes his life for the glory and power of our Creator, and asking only for the most meager support along the way.

(A MAN climbs up from the audience and drops a thick envelope in the box.  HE shakes PUCKETT’s hand, and exits to the side. 

PUCKETT waves at the man as he leaves)

          Yes, sir, thank you kindly, you are a noble soul to know that your charity fuels my zeal, and your name will be remembered in Heaven for your deed.  But...let me assure you that in my dark moment, the Evil One, Satan himself had tried to cast doubt before me.  But, there still shone that faint ray of hope that proved that righteousness and good works carry the day!  Behold, ladies and gentlemen, I have gone the extra mile for you, I have searched the corners of this great country and sat before the very supplier of this source of inspiration.  I have found the baker and secured from him, his exclusive recipe for his divine creation.  I have behind me, waiting for your demand and in limited quantity, the same loaf of bread that I witnessed the dear woman carry with her.  Yes, I have sallied forth, to provide for you at a cost so small that you would never think it possible, an opportunity to relieve yourselves of the pains, the woes, the aches and soreness, the yearning for life and vitality of younger days.  Bring to your thoughts the memories of children at play or a colt prancing in the field, for now we can have for ourselves, the same gift of life that this woman cast aside so rudely.  Ladies and gentlemen, I say to you:  YOU CAN PURCHASE FOR  YOURSELF YOUR OWN LOAF OF THIS SPECIAL BREAD!!

(MISS ALICE, PUCKETT’s assistant, enters from side stage, carrying several loafs of bread on a silver tray.  She stacks them on the table next to the donation box.  PUCKETT nods to her,

and she gestures the availability of the bread to the audience with a wave of her hand)

(The crowd presses forward and gathers around the table.  An ELDERLY WOMAN pushes forward, with a YOUNG BOY in tow.  He is squirming

to break free of her grasp so he can get a closer look at the bread. Eager people wave money at both PUCKETT and MISS ALICE. PUCKETT hands over the bread to his “customers” with a flourish, and continues to answer questions)

          Why, thank you, sir, I shall have my lovely assistant and niece, Miss Alice, provide you with the proper change for your $20 gold piece in a brief moment, the line does grow longer, you know!  And you are quite right, madam, a simple five dollars is much too kind a price for so valuable and powerful a blessing as this. But I must think of my poor colleagues in the steaming jungles of New Guinea who count on my support, as well as the hard-pressed young ladies who are with child in the home I am building for them in New Orleans.  Come again, sir?  Well, I accept your offer to decline reimbursement of your change, you are wise beyond measure.  No, ma’am, I believe that you are quite right to purchase a loaf for your dear mother in San Francisco, and I am confident that it will retain its resilience as you travel by train.  Oh, perhaps a dozen more for your aunts and uncles?  They must be blessed to have such a family member as yourself.

(YOUNG BOY edges closer to PUCKETT, and reaches out to touch the bread on the table.  PUCKETT makes a threatening gesture, as if to cuff the boy on the ear)

 

Get away, kid, you’re in the way of my customers!  You’re going to get a tanning, I’m warning you!...here!  Take this nickel and scram!

(PUCKETT reaches into his pocket and hands the boy a coin.  The BOY stuffs it into his pocket and breaks free of the ELDERLY WOMAN’s grasp, and scampers off the stage.  PUCKETT glares at him and says under his breath)

More than you’ll ever earn in an honest day’s work, I’ll warrant that!

(PUCKETT turns back to help the ELDERLY WOMAN) 
          Ah, yes, madam, I was about to ask my assistant to escort the lad to a safer place, apart from this crowd.  Your grandson, you say?  I was quite worried for his well-being, you know.  All the pushing and pressing can be dangerous to a little one.  I beg your pardon, I did not notice you had a hearing device.  A miracle of science, is it not?  And how lucky you are to own your own miracle:  our gift of this bread.  Thank you!

(Crowd thins out as the loaves of bread are bought.  PUCKETT and MISS ALICE are left alone, and PUCKETT empties the ballot box

and donations into a sack.  His pockets are bulging with money.

The OLD WOMAN who had lost her cane now joins them. SHE is standing up straight now, with no curve to her back, and she brandishes the cane over PUCKETT’S head.

You fool, get a move on things, we have to catch that train!  I thought you would knock me over with those grand gestures of yours!  If your father hadn’t taught you so many danged high-strung manners, we could have been gone hours ago!  A fine thing you are, hobnobbing with the mayor!  At least your sister can handle herself (she motions towards Alice) with these country bumpkins.  Well, how’d we do?

(PUCKETT nods his head eagerly)

We did real well, Ma, I’ll bet we made a thousand dollars and gold, too.  This is the best racket that Pa could have invented. 

(HE stops for a moment to look up in a far-way glance toward the sky)

You know what I heard, Ma?  There’s a fellow in Michigan named Kellogg, who says that eating corn flakes for breakfast is the best thing for body and soul.  I think we should pay him a visit and introduce him to our little package here.  It builds strong bodies too.  We’ll tell him it’s called....“Wonder Bread.” 

THE END
(C) MDLOP8 1992

 

Great green French whittling knives and all that stuff....

 

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"Pursued" - a retelling of an Alfred Hitchcock horror story

 

(Author’s notes: I found a story in an Alfred Hitchcock book back in my high school—which for me is over 50 years ago. The story and its original author are unknown—even though I have scoured through online anthologies of Hitchcock’s works in order to discern who should get credit for this. It’s a horror story—and perhaps for that reason alone, it has stayed in my memory long enough and with the details that I will try and provide in my own words. It is my hope that someone will recognize it and let me know who wrote it so that I can read it anew. If not…I hope you are as chilled and thrilled as I was 50+ years ago. I have called it by a single name because that is the theme of the story and its background. For this reason, I call it "Pursued".)

Pursued

It was a typical October evening in London that night, and Tompkins sat on his stool inside his kiosk on the street outside the Savoy Hotel. His companion and guide dog, Bobby, a terrier, sat by his feet. Tompkins listened carefully to the sound of cars passing by, of pedestrians chatting, and the steady patter of the rain as it splashed down on the concrete sidewalk. He reflected on his life: lucky that he had a side job to supplement his income along with his military disability pension, and lucky that he had Bobby all these years to help protect him. The gas attack forty years earlier had cost Tompkins his sight, but he was alive—and so many of his trench-mates had died gasping and sputtering for air after the Germans had launched their attack. The British Army was unprepared for that kind of fighting in 1915, and Tompkins, after the bandages from his face were removed, was blind for life.

The kiosk where he sat was filled with magazines, newspapers, cigarettes, candies, and other amenities, and he was warmly greeted by his customers. They had visited him for all these decades outside the Savoy, and its range of high-class patrons often stopped as well to share a kind word with him. Bobby had come to him from one of these generous visitors, and the dog was alert, loyal, and as good a guardian as Tompkins could have wished. “Ah, if only you could count out change for me, my boy, what a bonus that would be!” he would remark, and Bobby would wag his tail and paw at his master for a friendly welcoming hand of appreciation.

The doorman at the Savoy, Richards, had been on the job as long as Tompkins could remember. He was ten years older than Tompkins, but he remembered well the sacrifices made by England’s best during the war—he was a sergeant major himself and a platoon leader. He had seen too many men chewed up by artillery barrages and machine gun bursts, and he considered Tompkins to be something of a younger brother who needed a careful eye to watch over him. As the rainfall lessened, Richards took a brief moment to leave his post as traffic melted to a quiet point, and he greeted his fellow veteran. “Evening, Mr. Tompkins, and how are you feeling tonight? This weather gives my old bones the aches.”

Tompkins smiled at the sound of his visitor’s presence. “Doing fine, Mr. Richards, just a bit slow here, as you can imagine. But I’ve just lit the kettle—can I offer you a cup of tea to warm up? I’m just enjoying the sounds of the evening as much as anything.” Richards gladly accepted the gesture with a thanks and then returned back to the warmth and shelter underneath the awning of the magnificent hotel.

The minutes ticked away…it felt like several hours had passed, and Big Ben’s watchtower boomed in the distance. Eleven o’clock. It was peaceful out, thought Tompkins. And then he heard the sound.

It was unlike anything he had heard in all those years on duty in his kiosk. It was not familiar, but he knew it was coming toward his kiosk from further on down the street. It was a scratching sound—a dragging sound—skrtch-skrtch-skrtch--as though someone was—it was the strangest thought--pulling along a piece of wood with nails sticking out and rasping against the concrete. Bobby heard it too, and his low growl of alarm caused Tompkins to reach down to comfort him and pat his back. “What is it, boy? What’s out there?” Bobby’s low-throated growl was strong as the creator of the sound came alongside the kiosk, then paused for a second. Then whomever—or whatever—was making the noise turned at the corner and faded away into the night.

Richards stopped by the kiosk at noon to buy a pack of cigarettes, and Tompkins remembered the strange sound the previous evening. He queried, “Say there, did you see someone strange dragging something down the street last night about 11:00 p.m.? Bobby went on alert, and I was glad he was there for me.” Richards thought a moment, then shook his head. “No, and I was watching things just in case a late-arriving car might have pulled up. I saw no one.” Tompkins thanked him and chalked it up to coincidence.

At 4:00 p.m. that afternoon, a man’s voice greeted Tompkins and a friendly hand pressed a coin against the kiosk counter for a newspaper. “Thank you, my good man,” said the voice. “Been here long on the job?” Tompkins felt for the money and dropped it into his change drawer. “Thank you, sir, and I’ve been here forty years. Always glad to hear a friendly welcome.”

“I see,” said the customer. “May I ask you for something? It’s not especially difficult, but since you’ve been here all those years, perhaps you could do me a favor. I’d gratefully compensate you for your troubles.” Tompkins just waved back in a polite gesture. “No problem, sir. What can I do for you? That’s quite an honor.”

There was an exhale from the inquirer as though a burden had been carried around by him that had just found a small bit of relief. Tompkins felt a hand grip his own in a firm shake, and the visitor continued, “Thank you. Immensely. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sir Henry Dawkins, the Egyptologist. Perhaps you’ve heard of my expeditions back in the days. I’m about to register at the Savoy. There’s been a need for me to change hotels rather quickly these days, and the Savoy is my next destination. I’ll be visiting you on a daily basis until—that is, unless matters take a turn. But I have to ask: do you notice, as possible, the foot traffic that passes in front of your kiosk—that is, as you can—during the day and night?”

Tompkins understood immediately. “Well, yes, sir, it’s part of my adjustment all these years since losing my sight. I would say my hearing is as good, if not better, than it was when I was younger. It has to be, you see, so that I know when a customer is nearby.”

Dawkins again exhaled deeply. “Excellent.” He placed a 10-pound note into Tompkins’ hand. “Please accept this as a token of my gratitude for your vigilance. I need your help—but please let me explain. And I beg you: have mercy and understanding that I am making this request.” Tompkins carefully laid the bill in his drawer. “Please, sir, explain. How can a blind kiosk operator be of help?”

Dawkins then laid out the reason for his need: “It was back in ’21, as I recall. We were part of the Carnover expedition; you surely remember how he made the discovery of King Tut’s tomb. I had gone ahead a year earlier on my own. We made our own find of a hidden tomb, but not of the magnitude that Carnover achieved. My discovery was of a lesser-known pharaoh, and certainly with much less rewards and treasures. But during the excavation, my guides were fearful and warned me, much as Carnover was told, about the protector of the tomb and the retribution for disturbing the remains of its master. Naturally, we passed this off as nonsense.”

Tompkins nodded. “Yes, I remember the stir when Carnover made his discovery. Please continue.”

The explorer took yet another deep breath. “We thought nothing of it. After all, the number of items in this previous tomb were not as extravagant. And frankly, there was not the fanfare or acclaim for me that I wanted—but I accepted it. But what I did not expect—what I cannot explain—was the fate of the men who accompanied me. They died a most hideous death in the years to come: as though their bodies were torn apart by someone—dare I say ‘something’—that could not be explained. I thought it was just a peculiar happenstance—and then I heard the sound.”

“Let me tell you, Tompkins, it was a sound that I have heard even as I was not alert for it. It was a sound that has chased me—haunted me—for years. It is a scratching sound—a dragging sound—like someone—or something—dragging nails, or something sharp, on wood and stone. In my travels, I have lain awake at night and silently listened for this sound outside my hotel room door. This is why I am now taking up at the Savoy: last night, I heard it on the hardwood floor at the Ritz Hotel. It was not someone—it was something—that broke down my door and came into my room. I was quick enough to get past whatever it was—I could not see anything distinct at all, not even a shadow—and flee. Now I am here in residence at the Savoy. I urge you, sir, if you hear anything like this noise, please have the doorman notify me at once.”

Tompkins drew up on the stool where he sat. “Why, bless me, I heard a strange sound last night! Even Bobby went on alert! Of course, I couldn’t see anything. But it was the strangest skrtch-skrtch-skrtch I’ve ever heard! As though someone—or as you say, something—was dragging itself along on the street—and whatever was causing that noise was part of its movement!”

Dawkins gasped and let out a low moan of distress. “Oh, Lord, it found me again. Oh no. Oh, please.”

Tompkins shook his head. “I say, m’lord, is there anything I can do?” Sir Henry shook his head. “No, you have been a beacon of warning. Thank you. I may have to change residence in the morning. Please excuse me. I must pack my things again and make preparations. Bless you for your vigilance!” He warmly gripped Tompkins by the hand again and then made his way inside the hotel.

That night, at 11:00, the same sound returned on the street. Tompkins, now on high alert for noises, recognized it. Bobby again went into defensive mode, but the sound did not stop and pause as it as it did the previous evening. Instead…it seemed to change direction…as if it was moving up the carpeted entrance to the Savoy.

Fifteen minutes later, a cacophony of noise erupted from high above in the executive suite floor. To Tompkins’ ears, there was a crash of a breaking window…and then moments later, a thud. A heavy thud, as though something had fallen from a great height—landing adjacent to the kiosk! And then—most strange!—there was the sound of footsteps from the owner who had taken such a great fall. He was running away! And then…it seemed just moments beyond that—the same skrtch-skrtch-skrtch, following slowly after the person who had fled!

The doorman, Richards, burst out of the hotel seconds later. Someone had called for a constable, and the shriek of his whistle blared into the night. Tompkins stood inside his kiosk, trying to make sense of the commotion. An ambulance’s siren shrieked in the distance. Richards, now breathing heavily, directed his attention to Tompkins, who blurted, “Tell me, man, what happened!?” Richards heaved with effort. “It’s Sir Henry. He jumped from his penthouse. Broke through the window and fell.”

Tompkins shook his head. “No, that’s awful! Is he alright? How can that be? I heard him—or I presume it was him—run away after he landed! How is that possible?”

The doorman stared at the blind kiosk owner. “No, sir, he didn’t run away. His body is still there on the pavement. We’ve covered it up—waiting for the ambulance.”

Tompkins gripped the counter of his kiosk. But…he had heard the footsteps. And then…that terrible sound of whomever—whatever it was—that had caused Sir Henry to leap to…his death. But…how had Sir Henry run away? Or…had he?

The answer—the horrible, frightful answer suddenly flashed in his mind. Sir Henry had died there from the impact. But his soul—it had fled in terror from whatever vengeance was ready to enact the penalty for what had taken place on that fateful day in Egypt in 1921. Whatever the presence was, it was ready to fulfill payment for violating the tomb of its master. Sir Henry was being pursued beyond the grave.

Matt Nichol

A child tells adults how kids best learn to grow into successful adults

 

"Thinking outside the box for impromptu public speaking"

I've mentioned in another post about "Fluid Learning," which is what I call using both left-and-right-side halves of our brain to "think outside the box" when it comes to creativity, ideas, or general brainstorming. And I want to assure you that it is just as much of a challenge for me that I constantly work on improving because I have a learning-processing disorder and ADD. 

Let's look at an example of how to handle that event that so many people dread: How to do impromptu [on-the-spot] public speaking. And most times, this happens at an event where there's a microphone and a large audience who is celebrating something (or someone), and YOU are called up to front-and-center to say a few words. Here's a sure-fire thing to try that may help you come out with smiles, cheers, and applause.

Has this happened to me? Yes, at a higher education setting--in China, at a science university, and I was a guest of a Ph.D. candidate. (I can't speak Chinese and I don't know about the complexities of animal genetics!) And I was totally taken by surprise. My audience was learning English as a secondary language, and theirs is known for its complexity. Yet I stood before young men and women who not only had mastered their own language demands, but they were anxiously and eagerly working on their English skills. They were the ones who could have taught me more about speaking my own language. And I was proud of them and honored to be in their presence. And I was thankful for the chance to share my insights and reflections on the same path as they were now: learning to speak English.

Yes, perhaps you’re at a dinner or some kind of award ceremony, and the host or sponsors have just mentioned your name. And then they call you up to the podium to share a few words of wisdom, inspiration, humor, or whatever works. Light ‘em up, they say. And you smile (and shiver inside because you’re not ready for this sudden demand for communication and delivery). 

But yes, I assure you it’s very easy. Just follow these two ideas and watch yourself receive a thunderous round of applause and all the trimmings. All you have to say is this:

"I am Learning to Speak English (Again)"

 “Upon standing here in front of this wonderful audience, I am reminded that I am learning to speak English again.” And then watch the stares of amazement because most of the audience knows English is your native language—and they don’t understand what you meant with that statement.

(But instead, you’re trying to say):

 “I am learning to speak slowly, carefully, with deliberation and intention, and think of what is important while I am up here. I am learning once again to deliver my thoughts with reflection, contemplation, and appreciation for you, my audience. I am learning to share how I found the courage and to my surprise, the enjoyment of speaking in front of a crowd. 

"I am learning to speak English with a new view of vocabulary, and along with that, the ways of showing my appreciation for the opportunity to practice it once again. I am learning to speak with determination, deliberation, and endurance."

"I am learning to speak with determination: the choice to be more assured of my abilities to communicate and learn from them. I am learning to speak with deliberation: to speak more clearly, slowly, and with confidence, especially in a public venue. And I am learning to speak with endurance: to pace my way of speaking so that it is with clarity, focus, and projection to an eager audience. And I want to encourage you to feel the same way when your turn comes, and I hope it will be rewarding and fulfilling as you find you too are learning how to be comfortable, assured, and thankful for the ability to speak English so well. Thank you for this time before you. I am honored by your presence."

(If you don't get a standing ovation, I personally vow to wash the dishes at the facility hosting the presentation. I stand by my methods! LOL)

Then you get to return to your chair, have a sip of wine, and beam with "thank goodness that's over!"

(BTW: "Determination, perseverance, and endurance" should be your go-to phrases when someone asks "tell me about yourself" in any interview because it presents you as a force of intelligence, willingness to go onward, and motivation.)

The Antikythera Mechanism: A Shocking Discovery from Ancient Greece.

This is a history lesson at a graduate or senior-year undergraduate history level. But you need to know about The Antikythera Mechanism. It is a scientific device that is able to do advanced astronomical calibrations--and it was built over 2,000 years ago. It is like finding an intact iPhone while excavating ancient civilization ruins.

The Antikythera mechanism, shown here in this computer reconstruction, was about the size of a shoebox, with dials on its exterior and an intricate system of 30 bronze gear wheels inside. Though it was found in several corroded fragments, scientists have used imaging and other technologies to piece the machine together and even decode its inscriptions. When it was in use, a user of this "computer" could have turned a hand crank and tracked the positions of the sun and the moon, the lunar phases, and even cycles of Greek athletic competitions.

How to escape education's death valley | Sir Ken Robinson

Shakespeare's Literary style...with donuts

Why write? Penmanship for the 21st Century | Jake Weidmann | TEDxMileHigh

Consider this for public speaking; for argumentative writing, or just to learn and understand how and why it is important to learn to use a pen. One point he also makes that is invaluable: it builds fine motor muscles and hand-eye coordination. Want to be a better gamer? Learn to write in script (cursive). Want to send someone a message that shows your personal commitment? Learn to write in cursive. Want to practice discipline to make your strength of character known to others in a simple way? Learn to....

Essay ideas for any subject: the "How & Why it Matters" points

     

I developed three new opening ideas/themes to help elementary, middle, high school, and college-university students who struggle with opening paragraphs for essays. And I did this because “how do I start my essay?” seems to be one of the biggest questions I hear as a teacher and instructor. So here they are, and each one has a symbol or image to use as a visual reminder. They are Personal, National, and Global. The key to each is “How does the idea I need to write about have an impact on me or the reader?How does it affect me as the writer of this essay?” And the best one that I like: establishing WHY the idea has relevance to (1) you personally, (2) your country or place where you live (city, town), and (3) the World. Planet Earth. (When you realize the idea you're writing about has relevance for the planet we live on, it can take on greater impact and significance.)

 Once you, the student, focus your attention on each of the three, you’ll find your answer—and writing your opening idea for your essay will be much easier. It's a part of brainstorming--and that is important to good writing. You have to THINK before you write--and then it becomes easier to produce an essay or paper.

First, is it Personal? Does this idea in the essay have a PERSONAL impact on you? For example, is it asking you to BUY something? That’s about $$. See the symbol? That’s M.O.N.E.Y. or whatever you use to buy things (credit, bitcoin, cash). If the idea in your essay is something that you NEED or WANT or think is worth having, and to get it, you have to BUY it in some form, then you’re PERSONALLY involved: this is about YOU. And to satisfy “your wants-needs”, you have to spend your savings, earnings, or however else you can pay for “it”. Think of it this way: if you have to open your wallet, purse, or whatever and however you carry your form of funds, that’s why it’s personal. You can’t just get it by asking someone because you have to PURCHASE IT. See? Personal-Purchase. It’s Perfect for an opening Paragraph. A variation of this: what does the idea ask you to DO? What ACTION is it asking you to take? WHY is that action important to you? HOW will the outcome make a difference in your life, and in WHAT APPROACH TO DOING IT must you take?

Second idea: does this idea have an impact on your HOME COUNTRY? Does this idea have an effect on WHERE YOU LIVE? That’s NATIONAL. Your nation. For example: “Does your country have a law or policy about…?” Or, is there a SOCIAL issue going on that people are talking about, arguing about, or commenting about in some manner? It’s NATIONAL. That is why it matters to you: because in some form, shape, or other decision, it affects you as a citizen. 

Third: is the idea something that impacts planet Earth? Is this something that affects ALL of us living on this world? Is it about the environment? Is it about conflict and politics? Is it about SOMETHING that we all must consider if we are to survive as a species? (Example: a huge asteroid is coming toward Earth—what must we do?) So, when it comes to your essay and how to start, just look for one of these three options. You will find one—or maybe two—or even all three—can be guides to get you started. And when you finish, you’ll have written more than you knew possible or perhaps than you’ve ever done before—and you can repeat it again and again when you’re asked to write a paper or something else.
(C) MDLOP8 2018

The Nine Types of Intelligence and examples

 

1. Naturalist Intelligence

Naturalist intelligence designates the human ability to discriminate among living things (plants, animals) as well as sensitivity to other features of the natural world (clouds, rock configurations). This ability was clearly of value in our evolutionary past as hunters, gatherers, and farmers; it continues to be central in such roles as botanist or chef. It is also speculated that much of our consumer society exploits the naturalist intelligences, which can be mobilized in the discrimination among cars, sneakers, kinds of makeup, and the like.

2. Musical Intelligence

Musical intelligence is the capacity to discern pitch, rhythm, timbre, and tone. This intelligence enables us to recognize, create, reproduce, and reflect on music, as demonstrated by composers, conductors, musicians, vocalist, and sensitive listeners. Interestingly, there is often an affective connection between music and the emotions; and mathematical and musical intelligences may share common thinking processes. Young adults with this kind of intelligence are usually singing or drumming to themselves. They are usually quite aware of sounds others may miss.

3. Logical-Mathematical Intelligence

Logical-mathematical intelligence is the ability to calculate, quantify, consider propositions and hypotheses, and carry out complete mathematical operations. It enables us to perceive relationships and connections and to use abstract, symbolic thought; sequential reasoning skills; and inductive and deductive thinking patterns. Logical intelligence is usually well developed in mathematicians, scientists, and detectives. Young adults with lots of logical intelligence are interested in patterns, categories, and relationships. They are drawn to arithmetic problems, strategy games and experiments.

4. Existential Intelligence

Sensitivity and capacity to tackle deep questions about human existence, such as the meaning of life, why we die, and how did we get here.

5. Interpersonal Intelligence

Interpersonal intelligence is the ability to understand and interact effectively with others. It involves effective verbal and nonverbal communication, the ability to note distinctions among others, sensitivity to the moods and temperaments of others, and the ability to entertain multiple perspectives. Teachers, social workers, actors, and politicians all exhibit interpersonal intelligence. Young adults with this kind of intelligence are leaders among their peers, are good at communicating, and seem to understand others’ feelings and motives.

6. Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence

Bodily kinesthetic intelligence is the capacity to manipulate objects and use a variety of physical skills. This intelligence also involves a sense of timing and the perfection of skills through mind–body union. Athletes, dancers, surgeons, and crafts people exhibit well-developed bodily kinesthetic intelligence.

7. Linguistic Intelligence

Linguistic intelligence is the ability to think in words and to use language to express and appreciate complex meanings. Linguistic intelligence allows us to understand the order and meaning of words and to apply meta-linguistic skills to reflect on our use of language. Linguistic intelligence is the most widely shared human competence and is evident in poets, novelists, journalists, and effective public speakers. Young adults with this kind of intelligence enjoy writing, reading, telling stories or doing crossword puzzles.

8. Intra-personal Intelligence

Intra-personal intelligence is the capacity to understand oneself and one’s thoughts and feelings, and to use such knowledge in planning and directioning one’s life. Intra-personal intelligence involves not only an appreciation of the self, but also of the human condition. It is evident in psychologist, spiritual leaders, and philosophers. These young adults may be shy. They are very aware of their own feelings and are self-motivated.

9. Spatial Intelligence

Spatial intelligence is the ability to think in three dimensions. Core capacities include mental imagery, spatial reasoning, image manipulation, graphic and artistic skills, and an active imagination. Sailors, pilots, sculptors, painters, and architects all exhibit spatial intelligence. Young adults with this kind of intelligence may be fascinated with mazes or jigsaw puzzles, or spend free time drawing or daydreaming.

Even 20 years after Gardener’s book came out, there is still a debate whether talents other than math and language are indeed types of intelligence or just skills. 

What do you think?

Challenging a millenia-old notion that intelligence is a single kind of human capacity does not necessarily win one friends among the intelligent. Gardener’s book is still controversial. If you find it describes exactly what you have suspected to be true since you first went to school, it still isn’t an easy pill to swallow. This book questions what we consider a good education, what we consider talent, and how much control one has to acquire them. The insights are there as long as you are willing to follow Gardener’s scholarly style – he admits he writes for fellow psychologists.

If you prefer a more entertaining but no less profound style, read Ken Robinson’s The Element. Just as upbeat as his famously animated talk at Ted, the book starts with exploring what went wrong or rather what was so right about your childhood self, what school did to it and why, and how now it’s not too late to rediscover your talents and intelligences.

The magnificent Osprey: the fish-hunting raptor

1. 
   
   With thanks to allaboutbirds.org. I have been lucky to watch these magnificent creatures when I lived in northwest Washington state near the ocean and inlets. (I was also lucky enough to watch bald eagles when I lived on Adak in the Aleutian Island chain in 1977-78. If you caught a salmon, you might have to fight an eagle to keep it before you reeled it in to land. A bald eagle is larger than an osprey.)

Unique among North American raptors for its diet of live fish and ability to dive into water to catch them, Ospreys are common sights soaring over shorelines, patrolling waterways, and standing on their huge stick nests, white heads gleaming. These large, rangy hawks do well around humans and have rebounded in numbers following the ban on the pesticide DDT. Hunting ospreys are a picture of concentration, diving with feet outstretched and yellow eyes sighting straight along their talons.

Find This Bird

Near open water with an abundant supply of fish, listen for the osprey’s whistling or chirping calls overhead, or look for this bird's distinctive flight profile and heavy wing beats. From spring into fall, a boat or raft on a lake or river can provide an especially good vantage point. Scan treetops and other high spots along the shore for perched adults and untidy stick nests piled atop a platform, pole, or snag out in the open. 

Backyard Tips

Consider putting up a nest platform to attract a breeding pair. Make sure you put it up well before breeding season. You'll find plans for building a nest structure of the appropriate size on our All About Birdhouses site.

Cool Facts

An osprey may log more than 160,000 migration miles during its 15-to-20-year lifetime. Scientists track Ospreys by strapping lightweight satellite transmitters to the birds’ backs. The devices pinpoint an osprey's location to within a few hundred yards and last for 2-3 years. During 13 days in 2008, one Osprey flew 2,700 miles—from Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, to French Guiana, South America.

Ospreys are unusual among hawks in possessing a reversible outer toe that allows them to grasp with two toes in front and two behind. Barbed pads on the soles of the birds' feet help them grip slippery fish. When flying with prey, an osprey lines up its catch head-first for less wind resistance.

Ospreys are excellent anglers. Over several studies, ospreys caught fish on at least 1 in every 4 dives, with success rates sometimes as high as 70 percent. The average time they spent hunting before making a catch was about 12 minutes—something to think about next time you throw your line in the water.

The osprey readily builds its nest on man-made structures, such as telephone poles, channel markers, duck blinds, and nest platforms designed especially for it. Such platforms have become an important tool in reestablishing ospreys in areas where they had disappeared. In some areas nests are placed almost exclusively on artificial structures.

Osprey eggs do not hatch all at once. Rather, the first chick emerges up to five days before the last one. The older hatchling dominates its younger siblings, and can monopolize the food brought by the parents. If food is abundant, chicks share meals in relative harmony; in times of scarcity, younger ones may starve to death.

The name "Osprey" made its first appearance around 1460, via the Medieval Latin phrase for "bird of prey" (avis prede). Some wordsmiths trace the name even further back, to the Latin for "bone-breaker"—ossifragus.

The oldest known osprey was at least 25 years, 2 months old, and lived in Virginia. It was banded in 1973, and found in 1998.

Fallacies in argumentative logic

 

A lady of willpower and education

She started a school for African-American girls with $1.50. The school bordered the town dump. Make-shift desks and chairs were made from discarded crates and boxes. There were five students at the time, and the students made ink for pens from elderberry juice and pencils from burned wood.

When the the local Ku Klux Klan heard about the school, they threatened to burn it down. There were reports that they waited outside the school, but she stood in the doorway, unwilling to back down or leave her school. Other stories say that she and her students started singing spirituals. The Ku Klux Klan eventually left.

Mary McLeod Bethune was born on July 10, 1875, in a log cabin on a cotton farm in South Carolina, the 15th of 17 children of former slaves. Most of her brothers and sisters were born into slavery; she was the first child born free. She started working in the fields by the age of five.

One day, she accompanied her mother, delivering “white people’s” wash. When she was given permission to enter the white children's nursery, she saw a book, which fascinated her. A white girl would quickly snatch the book from her hands, telling her she didn't know how to read. That's when Mary realized the only difference between white and black folk was the ability to read and write.

When she got the opportunity, McLeod attended a one-room black schoolhouse, walking five miles to and from the school. When she got home, she would teach her parents and siblings what she learned. She then got an opportunity to attend the Moody Bible Institute in 1895, becoming the first African American student to graduate from the school.

She decided then she would become a missionary, sharing what she learned. But, she would be informed that no one wanted or needed a black missionary.

Rather than give up her dreams, she decided more than ever that she would eventually teach.

Flash forward to 1904, when after moving to Florida, she started the Educational and Industrial Training School for Negro Girls, which initially had five girls aged six to twelve. With limited resources, she was determined to make the school a success, even when the Ku Klux Klan threatened her. But, eventually she received donations and support from the community, and the school grew to 30 girls by the end of the year.

Booker T. Washington would tell her of the importance of white benefactors to fund her school, so she started traveling and fundraising, receiving donations from John D. Rockefeller and establishing contacts with Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt.

Her little school would become even more successful after it merged with a private institute for African-American boys and became known as the Bethune-Cookman School. She was president of the college from 1923 to 1942, and 1946 to 1947, becoming one of the few women in the world to serve as a college president at that time.

After she found that one of her students needing medical care was denied the care she needed and was placed on an outside porch of the local white hospital instead of a room with a bed, she used her funding sources and connections to open the first black hospital in Daytona, Florida.

According to the Turning Point Suffragist Memorial Association, McLeod became "one of the 20th century’s most powerful and celebrated advocates for civil rights and suffrage", holding "prominent roles, including president, in the National Association of Colored Women (NACW). She also served as president of the Florida Federation of Colored Women’s Clubs, where she fought against school segregation and sought healthcare for black children. Under her leadership, the National Council of Negro Women (NCNW) was founded as a unifying voice for African American women’s organizations."

As chapter president of the Florida chapter of the National Association of Colored Women, she would become so well known for her work registering black voters that once again she received threats from the Ku Klux Klan. And, like before, she did not back down.

With her friendship with the Roosevelts, she would become appointed as a national adviser to president Roosevelt, becoming part of what was known as his Black Cabinet and advising him on concerns of black people and would be called the “First Lady of the Struggle”.

When she passed away on May 18, 1955, she was recognized across the country. One newspaper suggested "the story of her life should be taught to every school child for generations to come" and The New York Times noted she was, "one of the most potent factors in the growth of interracial goodwill in America."

In her own words before she died, she wrote:

"I leave you love. I leave you hope. I leave you the challenge of developing confidence in one another. I leave you a thirst for education. I leave you a respect for the use of power. I leave you faith. I leave you racial dignity. I leave you a desire to live harmoniously with your fellow men. I leave you a responsibility to our young people."

“If I have a legacy to leave my people, it is my philosophy of living and serving. I think I have spent my life well. I pray now that my philosophy may be helpful to those who share my vision of a world of Peace, Progress, Brotherhood, and Love.”

Apps for special needs

The Ghosts of Mt. Everest who will never return

Please do not rush through this post. There is a message--several, in fact--that are deeper and more haunting than you may have expected. This is one of the stories of the men and women who will never come back from their attempt to climb Mt. Everest.

A wonderful travel journalist, Peter Jenkins, wrote about his trip to China and eventually, Tibet, where he climbed Mt. Everest. Not to the top--it was not his goal. It was to see how it felt to be on a team that was trying that effort. Along the way, he learned of several stories--including the fate of a woman, Marty Hoey, who was a casualty when she leaned back on her harness--and the knot came undone and she plunged to her death. Her teammates, who were now climbing with Jenkins, could do nothing to save her--and a new knot was later established and named in tribute to her.

I heard this song played by the musician featured here, Danny O'Keefe--and it put a lump in my throat at the show because I remember when the body of Englishman George Leigh Mallory was found. That is his remains face-down in the rocks at 1:49; it was later removed for a proper burial. There are others still on the mountain who remain as horrific reminders of the dangers of trying to reach the summit. This is the story of one of them, and I remember when he died. Thankfully, his body was recovered. Rest in Peace, Rob Hall, now and forever, a Ghost of the Ascent. The lesson(s) are many, but perhaps consider "Just because something can be done may mean it should NOT be done."

A modern Greek myth for a 21st-century woman

Every man and woman faces major challenges in life.  They are part of a continuing cycle: love, security, courage, the ability to communicate, and confidence.  In “A Modern Woman,” an offer is made to a lady to show how she has faced those demands.  However, the summons for her presence and a set of encounters that follow has come from the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece, who will decide her fate. 

The unexpected offer as well as outcome is far greater than anything she has ever known or considered:  if she wins, immortality is granted.  If she loses…she may face death.  Her results indicate how each one of us can decide our own future when our own challenges occur.  The way we view ourselves and how we have prepared our own values are our greatest gifts that we either use or discard.

Short answer/essay response:
Why are each of the answers given by the novice accepted by each of the challenging gods and goddesses? How and why are they convinced? How does she use her answers to them?  Describe her comments: what impression is she presenting?  Be descriptive: how does she speak? How are her answers received? Who adds to the importance, and why does it help make a difference? 

Who really appears to be in control of Olympus and why does this make the lesson of the story that much more empowering?  Why and how is this different than other stories of adventure? Finally--and optional: if you think this story reminds you of someone--anyone--even you--why? How? What difference has your story brought regarding Character, Wisdom, or Encouragement in YOUR life?

(I wrote this story to express admiration for someone. 

Yes. This is an original story.)

A Modern Woman for the 21st Century

          The gods and goddesses were surprised at the news.  A new arrival was to be heralded on sacred Mt. Olympus.  All were interested to meet the newcomer and prepare their tests of measure and worth.  Hera, queen of the gods, enlisted several of the others to be sure that they understood the challenge.  A new goddess had not been selected to sit on a throne on Mt. Olympus for many thousands of years, long after the glorious days of Socrates and Solon, of Athens in her splendor and Sparta in fighting majesty, had long passed to dust.
          Zeus himself was pleased:  another goddess might mean another female to pursue, a womanly figure to entertain his eye and desires.  And then a conch shell blew.  It was Poseidon, god of the Sea, calling all together to hear the reading of the Scroll of Immortality.  Hermes, the Messenger, stepped forward into the Circle of Light and held aloft the scroll and the names inscribed upon it.  Before him sat brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles; all gods and goddesses of Universal magnitude and authority.
          There was Ares, defiant god of War; Aphrodite, goddess of Love and pleasure; Apollo, keeper of the Chariot of the Sun; stern Hades, ruler of the Underworld and the riches of the earth; Athena, goddess of Wisdom, bearing her shield with the image of the Medusa’s head, and an owl perched on her shoulder.  And watching carefully over the others, Queen Hera.  She wanted to ensure that the novice goddess-to-be was worthy of a sip of ambrosia, nectar of the gods, and the immortal life that would follow.  All were directed to bring their full energies to bear upon the initiate during her test.  Zeus threw a thunderbolt earthward, announcing to the mortals below that the trial had begun.
          Up stepped Apollo, brandishing the reins to the horses that drew his chariot.  For a full day, he raced across the sky, pulling the Sun behind him.  And when the day had passed, he returned and addressed the others.  “I have let the strength and brightness of the Sun fall upon her,” he said.  “I have not been able to diminish her presence.  She radiates a greater light from within than the Sun itself.  She has passed my test.”
          Next came Ares, carrying his sword and shield of battle.  “I can handle this woman, who would dare call herself a goddess,” he swore.  “Come forward, if you dare, and face a true warrior!”  The gathering became a field of combat, the sounds of armor and weapons clashing.  Finally, Ares lowered his sword and said sullenly, “She knows the arts of fighting.  I accept her as an equal.”  The novice brought her own sword to bear, and swung at Ares.  A new battle followed, with the initiate taking the role of aggressor.  Athena stepped in and brought the fight to a halt.  “It seems, brother, that she has issued her own challenge.  Do you accept her answer?”  Ares gave her a dark, baleful stare in reply as he wiped the blood from fresh wounds, but a stern look from Hera, his mother, silenced his thoughts.
          “She has met me on the arena of battle.  I declare her to be a warrior of strength and courage,” he admitted to the others.  The initiate spoke up:  “Take up arms not against such as me.  I have faced greater fights and stronger opponents and won, and do not take lightly the thought of being oppressed by the foolishness of anyone.”  Zeus smiled at the boldness of the answer and a murmur of approval was heard through the gathering.  Hercules spoke up, giving his favor.  “I would gladly take this one along on an adventure if she is willing!”  Hebe, bearer of ambrosia and wife of Hercules, crossed her arms softly and stared at her husband, and he quickly added, “Of course, it would be for the glory and praise to be reckoned for such a noble one as she!”
          “I am next,” said Hesta, keeper of hearth and home.  “Come show me, little one, what you know of the comforts of a place for dwelling and rest, a shrine for body and soul.”  The novice replied, “Behold my own abode:  I have guided and built it with my own energy and vitality to be a welcome and warm beacon for all who would become my friend and family.  Come feel the security, the beauty, of that which I have forged with my hands and heart, and the serenity that brings company to my door.”  Hesta gazed down at the sight of the home and smiled.  “I should have easily recognized the lady and owner of such property before me.”
         “My test is far more difficult,” said a voice that floated with the sighs of heroes and gods hanging on her words.  Aphrodite came down off her throne to the silent gaze of all others.  The gods who were present had all longed for her in their hearts.  She had been promised to Hephaestus the lame, forger of metals, but her affections were not for him.  Among mortals, only Adonis had truly won her over, and his death had wounded her deeply.  “What do you know of love, of giving yourself to another, my friend?  Have you ever shared heart and soul without reserve, and longed for a warm embrace?” she asked.
          Her words did not come aloud; they burned across the distance and were only heard between the two women.  The look that carried the answer held the stories of lovers come and gone, of marriage and a lifetime’s dream cast aside, of loneliness and empty arms; and hope, for happiness yet to come.  The goddess of Love knew the heart that gave the answer, for she had helped craft the emotions that were found there.  “I have known your response before it was asked by me,” she said softly.  “You have my approval and trust forever.”
          “My turn,” cried Hermes, god of words and thoughts.  “And what do you know of the versatility of the mind, of speech; the nimbleness of an idea well spoken?  Can you outwit me, the master of liars and thieves?  Are you clever enough to charm your way out of the snare of a god?”  The initiate looked back at him.  “I know enough,” she replied, “to know that my thoughts and words can travel to the ends of the earth, and men and women find me most entertaining.  Would you deny that I favor you highly amongst those who reside on this sacred mountain?  I find the idea of a well-turned phrase most pleasing to my ear.  I trust that a good conversation is a cup well sipped from.  Is not the gift of speech, and a timely thought best offered in the company of those who can appreciate it to the fullest?”  Hermes bowed gracefully and tipped his winged hat in admiration.  “I salute your eloquence and imagination!”
          And then Zeus, Hera, and Poseidon stood. Only Hades stayed behind, for he knew he was losing a soul to safeguard at the door of the Underworld.  Poseidon spoke first:  “I see within this child, the depths and mysteries to the ocean deep that I rule.  I give to those who ask, the answers to the illusions of the seas that I keep hidden from the eyes of men and women.  Guard my secrets carefully; you have earned my respect.”
       It was then Zeus’s time to address the gathering.  “My brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, we have been cast aside by those who once worshipped us. But the old ways are not forgotten by those who remain faithful to those times long passed by.  I now call this test to its completion, and bid the bearers of ambrosia to bring the sacred cup forward to be sipped by our newest member.  I give her the safeguard of Athena, for wisdom and merit.”
           Athena bowed graciously to her father and stood beside her charge.  “Let the artisans begin work on a throne for our new companion,” she declared.  I find her worthy to be known as the goddess of Perseverance, of Determination, and Endurance, for she has met our challenges most strongly with those qualities.  I call upon those mortals below to grace her name with dignity and respect.  And I bid them to call upon her by her name when she was a mortal, for now she has become one of us.  For I, Athena, will take this one’s fame to the far corners of the world.”
          Finally, Hera spoke.  “I have championed your invitation to sit amongst us, to be rewarded for your vigilance and commitment.  I need not ask for approval; by my request for your presence, you have already been accepted.  I give both blessing and approval to your words, Athena.  Herald the new goddess on Olympus and welcome her by my order and her new name as a goddess:  We knew her when she was called “******” at birth."

(c) MDLOP8 1992

Preparing for a two-year or four-year college/university plan

"Go to college and find yourself--and pick a major."  That's been something told to students by parents (and counselors) for a few decades, yes?  I have a better idea--and mine comes from 22 years of experience (that's how long it took me to begin and finish my undergraduate degree. I wish I knew then what I learned now about how to go to college).

First: PLEASE consider a community college. It will save you a LOT of money, and allow you to learn about the demands of a college schedule for classes, the choice of working a job and managing your life. You can get MUCH better grades and then transfer to the four-year school that you wanted. Your diploma at graduation will be from the 4-year school, and you'll be happy, wiser, and better prepared for choices.

DON'T take your major classes in the first two years.  I KNOW your parents are likely to question your reasons, but getting adapted to college is more important, especially if you haven't really paid attention in the last four years of high school--or even middle school.  Plus, the likelihood of a student becoming aware of his or her interests while in college (or other school training) is far greater, along with the new learning of ideas.

May I otherwise suggest that a student take courses that are of significance that may help with prerequisites:  psychology, public speaking (there I go again with that subject!), math, or science.  Remember, I'm speaking from 22 years of experience.

By my own efforts, I found that most schools require at least one course in psychology.  It certainly helps someone learn about society and how to manage him or herself.  Teamwork and cooperative management are part of psychology--so it pays to have a basic understanding of how we interact.  Public speaking has already been posted as an idea, and for the same reasons, I'm saying that it will eventually become a prerequisite for a degree program.  

Most majors require at least 12 credits in math or science--and I was not good at math, and I didn't want a lab science.  What I took instead for science were courses in biomedical issues, environmental studies, anthropology, and human life science.  They were credited classes, and they were interesting because I was a psych major who wanted to learn about society.  For math (I had to take algebra again, and most degree programs are looking for calculus as well), I took courses in life skills, such as how the post office uses their routing and schedules to effectively cover territory, or how to divide property for an estate so that everyone gets a fair share.  It wasn't about doing math problems, but using my mind to solve ideas. I would also suggest that a foreign language class would help if you're really good at it--but stay at the basic level so that it's not overwhelming.  No one is asking you to translate 14th-century Italian if you only need one semester and aren't planning on being a historian in European fine art.

I would also suggest not immediately declaring a major because most students decide by the beginning of their junior year about what they want to pursue.  In my case, I found that I had overlapping classes in psychology: what I learned in the spring semester for the first four weeks was often what I had learned that previous fall.  So I was focused on my major at that time and not having to keep so many subjects in my mind.  There's always room to learn about college classes and the demands it puts on a student--and if you get used to the idea early and learn WHY and HOW to study, take notes, and be responsible, it will be much more rewarding when the time comes when you take your major subject and earn the degree you want.

There-their-they're is spelled this way

(I would also add to this, "It's not there. Take off the 'T' and "HERE it is!")