Perhaps J.K. Rowling should run for U.S. President.
I, for one, have never read a single word, paragraph, or book of the Harry Potter series. Nor seen the movie (or are there movies?). Am I bragging? Not sure. I suppose I've not been tempted to turn those pages because I'm not one to follow the masses just because "everyone else is doing it." So all you Potter piranhas, go ahead--enjoy every last word. I hope Rowling did a great job for you!
I suppose it’s all the talk of witchcraft and magic that keeps me at bay. Seems to conflict with my faith beliefs. Now before you go and say, “Oh, it’s that ‘holier than thou’ attitude talking,” don’t be so quick to judge me. Maybe I’ve just simply lost my belief in magic and potions, and that’s not necessarily a good thing. In childhood, didn’t we all believe in things that fly (remember Peter Pan and Tinker Bell…I even named my first parakeet after that fairy) and knew to fear anything boiling and bubbly that a witch had brewed? After all, Hansel and Gretel had instinct enough to fear the witch in the forest whose focus was to eat them.
But not having read a word of the Potter series, I have no idea what the witches and warlocks (are they there?) do for a living—or for fun. Perhaps my disinterest can be blamed on being blasted with the reality of today’s world with its daily news bites about Lindsay Lohan’s next arrest (Oh, will they ever tire of telling us common folk we should care about what the wayward woman is up to? We can only hope…), the rising count of dead soldiers and civilians in Iraq, and another politician who thinks he or she has all the answers for our country when in reality, they are all just blowing hot air at this point, in my opinion. Wasn’t there another debate on TV last night? Missed that too.
With more than a year to go until election time, I’ll wait, thank you, until the field is narrowed to those who have a real chance to win before I devote my time and energy to hearing what they have to say. If the pattern holds true, they’ll all be changing their minds and words in the coming months, anyway, to reflect what they “think” the American public wants to hear without really finding out what are our needs and what is important to us in our daily lives. The ivory towers in Washington, D.C., are far removed from the wheat fields and ranches of our country’s heartland.
Perhaps a touch of Harry Potter potion is what they need. Look at the following he (rather, author Rowling) has. With readers in the millions (or is it billions?), our American politicians could learn a lesson from the bespectacled lad and his creator. J.K. Rowling was quoted in the UK’s Independent as saying that “children and adults had been united by the experience of reading the new volume.” Isn’t that what a good politician seeks to do?
"All the secrets I have been carrying around for so long will be yours, too...Those who guessed correctly will be vindicated, and those who guessed wrongly will not, I hope, be too disappointed!" she added.
Secrets and politicians. Now that goes hand-in-hand, as well.
Is Rowling making a bid for the Presidency of the United States? Potions, magic and secrets just might do the trick.
Or she could instead make a killing selling her recipe to the likes of Mrs. Clinton, the misters Edwards, McCain, Richardson, Biden, Gilmore, Guiliani, Romney, Tancredo…and on and on…will the list ever end?
At least Rowling knew when to stop a good thing, leaving her audience satisfied. It’s too early to know if our politicians can figure out how to do the same thing.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
The Home of the Brave: Celebrating the Fourth of July Overseas
In July 1996, I was priviliged to be a member of a community choir that took a two-week singing tour of Scotland and England. The following is what occurred on the 4th of July when a small group of us boarded a bus to make a day of celebrating our American holiday though we were thousands of miles from home. Today I think of the hundreds of American soldiers who yet fight for our freedom as they too are thousands of miles away in Iraq, Afghanistan and other foreign countries. As a mother of two sons in the military, I dedicate this story below, written 11 years ago, to those soldiers who have gone before us and who risk their lives today. May God protect them, and may they all come home safely to their loved ones.
CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND –
There are spacious skies and amber waves of grain in England.
There are no purple mountains.
Red, white and blue colors fill flower boxes, line stone walkways and drape near wooden gates. They are bright beauty beneath the rainy, billowy clouds.
Americans display these colors on their flags.
The fourth of July appears on the British calendar quietly behind the third, before the fifth, dutifully in line as a regiment of trained soldiers.
When Johnny comes marching home again…hurrah, hurrah.
There is nothing special about this day to the waking English, our cousins across the sea, who live amidst Cambridge academia where great kings and greater minds made some of the greatest discoveries we hold true today. The apple landed on Sir Isaac Newton’s head here, and scientists for the first time discussed over lunch the makeup of DNA at “The Eagle,” a local restaurant and pub where beer has been served since the 1300s when the Saxons invaded England, according to a local tour guide. Today’s tourist can view signatures on the ceiling written by American soldiers stationed in England during World War II. “The Wild Hair – 9th Squadron” and “Bert’s Boys – 196th Squadron” left their marks.
First to fight for right to freedom…
As the morning sun rose behind drizzling clouds over this North Sea island country, the fact that it was Independence Day at home was on the minds of most members of the Greeley Chorale and their traveling companions as we continued our two-week singing tour of Scotland and England. Independence Day for us dawned seven hours earlier than for friends and families in Colorado. While those at home slept peacefully, before the parade and pancake breakfasts, before barbecues smoked and children urged parents to light spitting Roman candles, Greeley’s singing ambassadors reflected inwardly about being away from home on this significant holiday.
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light...
While stars glimmered in the Colorado sky, it was mid-morning in England on the 4th of July. It seemed an ordinary day, across an ocean and far away from the traditions we knew. What should we plan to do? we wondered. We knew we’d sing patriotic songs at our concert that night, “An American Hymn” and “Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor.” But could we make today special in another way, each of us, that made it feel like home while we were away?
...what so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming.
We were on an adventure, the small group of us, as we boarded a double-decker tour bus to explore the local sights. With no firm plan in mind, we were led more by the guide, not our spirits, as we settled into our seats. Leaving the city, the bus sped past open green fields in the clearing, sunny air. We rode a few quick miles and listened to the crisp, British accent share details about the college and veterinary school that lay beyond the trees.
It wasn’t until the woman with the microphone highlighted our first stop that flags went up inside our heads, unfurled red, white and blue, and there in the countryside, suddenly imaginary bands began to play. We were at the Cambridge American Cemetery. We were given a patriotic chance to celebrate our Fourth of July.
And the rockets’ red glare…
Stretched below us on the hillside were perfect rows of white crosses marking graves of American servicemen and servicewomen buried after the end of World War II. Cambridge University had given free to the United States this prime land in order to bury its brave, dead soldiers who lost their lives fighting to rid the world of enemies in the “War to End All Wars.” A framed letter from President Dwight D. Eisenhower expressing gratitude to the future Queen Elizabeth and one from her in return are displayed in the Cemetery’s reception building. Visitors can sign a guest book and leave a message for those who follow. A 3-ring binder holds photographs of other American cemeteries located in countries around the world. The last page of the book tells the heroic story of a soldier, John Valdez, Jr., who was awarded the US Medal of Honor for his bravery and actions, including losing his right foot, during the war before his plane disappeared while on his way home.
…the bombs bursting in air…
At the entrance to the grounds, an 82-foot high flagpole that was a gift erected by a father in honor of his son, Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr., greets visitors. The name of the eldest child of Joseph, Sr., is engraved on the white stone wall, along with names of the others who are buried there. Valdez’ name is etched in gold. The towering wall runs from the entryway alongside a rectangular pond overflowing with white and red roses amidst greenery built to reach just short of the steps of the memorial chapel located at the opposite end. The wall is punctuated by larger-than-life-size carved statues of men in uniforms, one for each branch of the American military services.
Inside the chapel, clear window panels to the north overlook the graves, bearing in their centers full-color, engraved seals of each individual US state, while the south wall depicts in miniature the operations of WWII. The display portrays the strategic attack paths the American plans and ships followed as they closed in on enemy territory in Germany to end the war.
…gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
And after we in solitude and quiet reviewed the scene presented as an unexpected gift that day, with somber thoughts of the sacrifice, honored the dead who gave their lives. The small group representing Greeley and its community chorale stood, hands on our hearts, at the base of the flagpole in a foreign land and sang in clear, strong voices:
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND –
There are spacious skies and amber waves of grain in England.
There are no purple mountains.
Red, white and blue colors fill flower boxes, line stone walkways and drape near wooden gates. They are bright beauty beneath the rainy, billowy clouds.
Americans display these colors on their flags.
The fourth of July appears on the British calendar quietly behind the third, before the fifth, dutifully in line as a regiment of trained soldiers.
When Johnny comes marching home again…hurrah, hurrah.
There is nothing special about this day to the waking English, our cousins across the sea, who live amidst Cambridge academia where great kings and greater minds made some of the greatest discoveries we hold true today. The apple landed on Sir Isaac Newton’s head here, and scientists for the first time discussed over lunch the makeup of DNA at “The Eagle,” a local restaurant and pub where beer has been served since the 1300s when the Saxons invaded England, according to a local tour guide. Today’s tourist can view signatures on the ceiling written by American soldiers stationed in England during World War II. “The Wild Hair – 9th Squadron” and “Bert’s Boys – 196th Squadron” left their marks.
First to fight for right to freedom…
As the morning sun rose behind drizzling clouds over this North Sea island country, the fact that it was Independence Day at home was on the minds of most members of the Greeley Chorale and their traveling companions as we continued our two-week singing tour of Scotland and England. Independence Day for us dawned seven hours earlier than for friends and families in Colorado. While those at home slept peacefully, before the parade and pancake breakfasts, before barbecues smoked and children urged parents to light spitting Roman candles, Greeley’s singing ambassadors reflected inwardly about being away from home on this significant holiday.
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light...
While stars glimmered in the Colorado sky, it was mid-morning in England on the 4th of July. It seemed an ordinary day, across an ocean and far away from the traditions we knew. What should we plan to do? we wondered. We knew we’d sing patriotic songs at our concert that night, “An American Hymn” and “Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor.” But could we make today special in another way, each of us, that made it feel like home while we were away?
...what so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming.
We were on an adventure, the small group of us, as we boarded a double-decker tour bus to explore the local sights. With no firm plan in mind, we were led more by the guide, not our spirits, as we settled into our seats. Leaving the city, the bus sped past open green fields in the clearing, sunny air. We rode a few quick miles and listened to the crisp, British accent share details about the college and veterinary school that lay beyond the trees.
It wasn’t until the woman with the microphone highlighted our first stop that flags went up inside our heads, unfurled red, white and blue, and there in the countryside, suddenly imaginary bands began to play. We were at the Cambridge American Cemetery. We were given a patriotic chance to celebrate our Fourth of July.
And the rockets’ red glare…
Stretched below us on the hillside were perfect rows of white crosses marking graves of American servicemen and servicewomen buried after the end of World War II. Cambridge University had given free to the United States this prime land in order to bury its brave, dead soldiers who lost their lives fighting to rid the world of enemies in the “War to End All Wars.” A framed letter from President Dwight D. Eisenhower expressing gratitude to the future Queen Elizabeth and one from her in return are displayed in the Cemetery’s reception building. Visitors can sign a guest book and leave a message for those who follow. A 3-ring binder holds photographs of other American cemeteries located in countries around the world. The last page of the book tells the heroic story of a soldier, John Valdez, Jr., who was awarded the US Medal of Honor for his bravery and actions, including losing his right foot, during the war before his plane disappeared while on his way home.
…the bombs bursting in air…
At the entrance to the grounds, an 82-foot high flagpole that was a gift erected by a father in honor of his son, Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr., greets visitors. The name of the eldest child of Joseph, Sr., is engraved on the white stone wall, along with names of the others who are buried there. Valdez’ name is etched in gold. The towering wall runs from the entryway alongside a rectangular pond overflowing with white and red roses amidst greenery built to reach just short of the steps of the memorial chapel located at the opposite end. The wall is punctuated by larger-than-life-size carved statues of men in uniforms, one for each branch of the American military services.
Inside the chapel, clear window panels to the north overlook the graves, bearing in their centers full-color, engraved seals of each individual US state, while the south wall depicts in miniature the operations of WWII. The display portrays the strategic attack paths the American plans and ships followed as they closed in on enemy territory in Germany to end the war.
…gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
And after we in solitude and quiet reviewed the scene presented as an unexpected gift that day, with somber thoughts of the sacrifice, honored the dead who gave their lives. The small group representing Greeley and its community chorale stood, hands on our hearts, at the base of the flagpole in a foreign land and sang in clear, strong voices:
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)