Mandela died in July
And all the country cried for his body,
Outside the hospital
Not knowing he was dead.
Ever elegant you
escaped your body in front of our eyes.
They searched for you in 1962
At train stations and bus terminals.
From your mansion in Rivonia
hollywood sure has an easy time finding brown and black people to play terrorists, thugs, drug dealers, gangsters, servants, “barbarians”, hypersexualized or desexualized caricatures but all of a sudden you need a lead role and
gosh where did they go i swear we put them here right after zero dark thirty??
Government Seeks to End Claims From 1864’s Sand Creek Massacre
Sand Creek Massacre descendants will not receive further reparations or an investigation of charges of trust funds mismanagement if the federal government has its way.
Last night, my university gave an honorary master’s degree to the service dog who sat through every one of his owner’s classes. He dressed appropriately for the ceremony.
You go, Dog!!
THIS IS CARLOS! Dressing up his dog was my mom’s idea, she made the cap and gown! So cool.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
Todd McLellan must have a lot of fun at his job.
How else to explain someone who meticulously dismantles, then painstakingly rearranges hundreds of tiny parts of machinery. And that’s before he throws everything into the air.
The Toronto-based commercial photographer was the kind of kid who always took things apart, including an entire 1985 Hyundai Pony in secondary school. He said that if an object interested him, it would soon be in pieces.
“I’ve always had a technical grounding trying to figure out how things work,” he said in a phone interview.
That fascination followed him into adulthood, when he decided to disassemble 50 design classics for his book Things Come Apart: A Teardown Manual for Modern Living. The objects range from modern “smart” technology to older things that he collected on the street and at thrift shops. He looked for objects that were outdated but still functioned.
“I remember thinking, ‘Wow, all this technology still works,’ ” he said.
To photograph the objects, he first tried conventional portraits but found the results “boring and stuffy.” Eventually he decided to take the objects completely apart and lay out all of the pieces on a white backdrop.
Photo Credit: Todd McLellan/Courtesy of Thames & Hudson