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Chapter 7

Marianne Boruch Indiana University Press ePub

Chapter 7

What she said was: pause. What she said was: pause. What she said was: this is no ordinary trip. I think maybe, well, I think you maybe should know that.


Because I have to find out.

I knew she meant Ned and the car crash. He was on his way home to her that day. That was the heartthrob part of the story.

No, not really the crash, she said. Before the crash. Those months in California, and then in Colorado. I have to go to those places, talk to people.

Well, I said, okay. That’s cool.

It’s just that, those people know things. And something happened to Ned, I mean inside. I have to find out. Shit, this is hard. You know what I mean?

She stood in the wind at an angle somehow, looking both at me and away, bold and fragile, all intertwined.

Sure, I said, I get it.

But I didn’t shrug this time, letting the weight of her words sink through me. I didn’t want to seem offhand or indifferent. I didn’t want to be a nosy jerk about it either. Her life was her life. High up, hundreds of long-winged birds—sandhill cranes, I learned much later—were doing their noisy gaggle en route, headed back north after a warm winter in Mexico or somewhere, clearly into it, clearly honed to their ancient, thrilling task.

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Medium 9781574413908

1. Old Kentucky Home

Paul N. Spellman. University of North Texas Press ePub



My father having gone to his final rest, my mother was left in the midst of that great struggle with six daughters and two little boys.

John Strode Brooks stood at the corner post of his new property, surveying a portion of the 247 acres of Kentucky bluegrass he had recently purchased. A tributary of Houston Creek flowed easily along its rocky bed through the eastern acreage. A stand of maple trees promised maple syrup the next season, a rolling field just past the grove looked favorable for summer corn, and an apple orchard would complete the annual harvest.

The pike road that connected tiny Paris to the growing town of Lexington drew one line for his land, a small road that wound northward along the Fayette-Bourbon county border marked another. New neighbors included Aaron and Mary Smedley, John Giltner just across the pike road, Frank and Nancy Willmott, Joshua and Rachel Corbin to the north, and the James Baggs family on the southern boundary. The main house would go there, he pointed up the pike, and the slave quarters in the hollow not far from the corral and barns.

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Medium 9781574412871


Manuel F. Medrano University of North Texas Press ePub


His first name was Américo, like the explorer for which America was named. His last name was Paredes, which comes from the Latin word parietis meaning walls. His life spanned eight decades that included events that changed the world forever. Américo Paredes was born September 3, 1915, during the devastation of World War I and the chaos of the Mexican Revolution, and died on Cinco de Mayo, 1999, on a day celebrating the battle of Puebla in Mexican history. He lived during some of most dramatic events in U.S. history: World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War.

Although he often wrote about life between two worlds, he lived in three: his world during the early years on the border; his world during and after World War II in the Far East; and his world of academia at The University of Texas at Austin. Throughout his life, he broke new ground in the face of resistant tradition. At a Brownsville tribute to him in 1998, his niece, Margot Torres, referred to him as “Don” Américo and explained why he deserved that distinction:

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Medium 9781574416299

Chapter 5 - This is the Philadelphia Orchestra

Anshel Brusilow and Robin Underdahl University of North Texas Press ePub

FINALLY, THE DAY CAME. Most of the musicians were onstage, and I certainly didn't want to be last. But Ormandy stopped me.

“Don't go out. I'll introduce you.”

I was nervous. I followed him out, and the players continued chatting and fiddling with their instruments until they finally noticed that I was with their conductor.

And that surprised me. Here the players did not instinctively freeze in place when the conductor came through the stage door, as they had with Szell.

Ormandy introduced me and I was surrounded by friendly greetings. I asked principal oboist John de Lancie for his “A” and tuned the woodwinds and listened until they sounded good, and gave them my nod. But as I went on to tune the brass, and then the strings to the same note, I was thinking about Bill Kincaid, principal flutist. He hadn't looked up once. While you tune a section as concertmaster, normally each player is looking at you because you are going to nod or else signal for raising or lowering. But Bill was not going to meet my eyes to get my approval.

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Medium 9781574414509

Chapter 2: McLaurys in Iowa

Paul Lee Johnson University of North Texas Press PDF


McLaurys in Iowa

As he prepared his family to move west, Robert H. McClaury tried persuading his neighbors to join him. The trip was expensive, and the complications of moving the household and the younger children took a great deal of planning. The McClaurys sent their oldest children ahead as a vanguard.

Twenty-one-year-old Ebenezer, eighteen-year-old Margaret and fourteen-yearold Edmund (“Eddie”) traveled to Iowa in 1854 and built a cabin on land at the western portion of Benton County.

Some Indians continued to hunt and trade as they roamed the sparsely settled countryside. One memorable day, Margaret was alone in the cabin while her brothers were out hunting for game. An Indian hunter walked into her home, uninvited. She was terrified—unsure whether or not he meant her harm—and watched in silence while he squatted by the fire, warming himself.

When he stood up and pulled his blanket around himself, he pointed to the sugar and the tea, then to the brace of turkeys slung over his shoulder. Margaret gladly made the exchange and the Indian silently went away.

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Medium 9781574412376

five: “I wish I could have helped more people”

William and Rosalie Schiff and Craig Hanley University of North Texas Press PDF

chapter five

“I wish I could have helped more people”

Outside the front gate at Auschwitz a dead man is bound to a post with ropes around his chest, thighs, and throat. He wears dull gray pajamas with fat navy stripes. Over his heart an upside-down yellow triangle points to a hole in his pajama top that matches the hole in his back. From these holes, a gallon of dark stain has drained into the uniform. While rows of bald prisoners file past the dead man a live orchestra on a bandstand plays an upbeat march. It’s a sparkling fall day.

When Heinrich Himmler toured the camp the year before, commandant Rudolph Hess confided that he was having trouble with escapes. The SS National Leader told Hess to prop up every escapee his men shot as a display at the main gate. He felt that terror was the only language prisoners from more than twenty countries could all understand.

When Himmler had taken charge of the SS in 1929 it was a street gang with 200 members. He now commands 800,000 men and the new army that grew out of the Death Head assassination teams. He runs thousands of secret prison camps, major industrial companies, a military spy network and the

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Medium 9781574412666

IX. Three-Day Ride to the Kitchen

Vince Bell University of North Texas Press PDF


Three-Day Ride to the Kitchen


n late 1976 I decided on a move to Austin to work as a singer/songwriter for Moon Hill Management. It was just in time for the Progressive Country days, and I was booked all over

Texas doing half-music, half-comedy shows wherever they would pay me. It seemed my songs could keep me in places I could barely negotiate on my own. With my unsophisticated voice like a high-school quarterback, every little bit helped. But after enough years of choirboy vocals, Bob Dylan taught us in the ’60s that the voice didn’t have to matter as much as the message did.

Craig Hillis from Moon Hill picked me up outside the Greyhound bus station the day I moved to that capital town. With me was my bag holding everything I had in the world. Right beside my bag was the guitar in the case with the grommets missing, the alligator linen covering all but gone. Craig liked the songs he had heard on the confusion of tapes made in the cabin off Lake Tahoe and was impressed when he saw the hard-livin’ acoustic come out of the frayed case. We became the closest of friends. After sleeping on a couple of couches,

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Medium 9780253347572

27 In the Betrayal Suite

RushJr. Loving Indiana University Press ePub

Six days later, David Goode tried to increase the pressure by firing up further the issue of market dominance, sending a letter to shippers opposing a CSX-Conrail monopoly, and declaring that Norfolk Southern, as winning bidder, would sell off duplicating lines so that places like the Port of New York would have balanced competition. He argued that the region would be best served by two railroads of fairly equal size instead of having one that had 70 percent of the tracks and another with only 30 percent. Norfolk’s argument was embarrassing to Conrail because in the previous year in the UP merger case it had argued that rail customers needed balanced competition. Now Conrail had returned to its original stance, maintaining there was no need for two railroads. Admitted one vice president, “We were flip-flopping.” Nevertheless, trying to counter NS’s spin, CSX put out a press release dismissing Norfolk Southern’s letter as an “act of desperation.” It added that Norfolk was following “a loser’s strategy, solely intent on gaining or forcing competitive concessions.” Mark Aron, by now CSX’s executive vice president for law and public affairs, told a reporter that NS had given up on bidding and was now posturing for a battle before the Surf Board.

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Medium 9780253002112

10 Beit Sahour III: The Sleepover and the Prayer for Peace

Hillel Bardin Indiana University Press ePub

Our group (which was still unnamed) was one of the only peace organizations sponsoring joint Israeli-Palestinian activities at that time, and possibly the only one that did not have an anti-Israeli character. Peace Now has always been divided internally between people who feel that its mandate is to work exclusively within the Israeli community, and those (usually a minority) who feel that the best results come from joint demonstrative activities.

In early 1989, Peace Now tried to hold joint meetings with Palestinians in several villages, but the army prevented them. Finally, the organization went to court and got permission to visit several villages simultaneously. That activity was scheduled for a Saturday, the one day that Israelis did not work (in those days of the six-day work week, before we went over to a five-day work week). But our group included many Jews who did not travel on the Sabbath, and this meant that we would not be able to participate in exactly the kind of activity that we specialized in. We held a planning meeting to discuss this problem.

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Medium 9780253014177

8 Returning to the Old House

Nha Ca Indiana University Press ePub

Someone has returned to the house in front of US. Before Tết, I saw that this house was very crowded; children filled its courtyard. When my father died, the head of that household came by to express his condolences. But now only two boys have come back. They wear clothes of profound mourning and have white hats on their heads.

I learn that they are back because I hear the sound of crying. One day, right before noon, when we have just crawled out of the shelter to help Aunt Vạn by bringing water to wash the rice, I suddenly hear sorrowful crying in the house across the lane. Aunt Vạn waves her hand:

“Be silent, someone’s crying so scarily. Someone’s crying as though at a funeral.”

I say:

“It seems to me like it’s a male voice.”

Thái inches outside:

“The crying is from the house in front of ours; it seems to be Uncle Năm’s house, don’t you think so, elder sister?”

“It sure is.”

“Let me go to the courtyard; perhaps I will hear or see something.”

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Medium 9781576754825

8: “More Sweat, Less Blood”

Lown, Bernard Berrett-Koehler Publishers ePub

If I am sometimes discouraged, it is not by the magnitude of the problem, but by our colossal indifference to it.

IPPNW, CONCEIVED AT AIRLIE HOUSE in the Virginia countryside, like the many foals born in that part of the country, was not yet a racehorse. We had taken a few uncertain steps forward—important steps to be sure, but tentative ones. We selected officers, with Chazov and myself as co-presidents, Jim Muller as secretary, and Eric Chivian as treasurer. We were without membership, without a constitution, and without a clearly defined strategic plan. There was consensus at Airlie House that we should take an activist approach, but what precisely did that mean? Indeed, the final document from Airlie House was far too lukewarm for my taste.

Though we deplored the Cold War, we were straitjacketed by it. For example, we argued among ourselves at Airlie House about the propriety of calling for a summit between Reagan and Brezhnev, a step that seemed rather innocuous. Many felt there had to be a summit because there was simply no dialogue between the United States and the Soviet Union. A conversation between the leaders of the superpowers seemed to be an essential first step. But to call or not to call for a summit in the final document from Airlie House became intensely controversial because the Soviet government favored a summit.

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Medium 9781576752760

CHAPTER 14: Crisis of Questions

Frick, Don M. Berrett-Koehler Publishers ePub

No matter what you do, this darkness and this cloud is between you and your God and because of it you can neither see Him clearly with your reason in the light of understanding, nor can you feel Him with your affection in the sweetness of love. Be prepared, therefore, to remain in this darkness as long as must be, crying evermore for Him whom you love. For if you are ever to feel Him or to see Him, it will necessarily be within this cloud and within this darkness. And if you will work with great effort as I bid you, I trust in His mercy that you will achieve it. 1


When conceits are silent and all words stand still, the world speaks. We must burn the clichés to clear the air for hearing.

Conceptual clichés are counterfeit; preconceived notions are misfits.

Knowledge involves love, care for the things we seek to know, longing, being-drawn-to, being overwhelmed. 2


By the late 1950s, Bob Greenleaf was getting restless. He was successful, secure, and admired in his job at AT&T, in his endeavors with outside companies and universities, and in the work he and Esther pursued with 204 the Quakers. He was still deep into an era of seeking—meeting unusual people of accomplishment, reading mind-expanding books, preparing for an end that he could not quite yet fathom. Time was passing, though; he was in his fifties. Bob had a crisis of questions: What was his personal greatness? Did he have the courage to claim it? How could he best design the remainder of his life to make his contribution to individuals, organizations, and society? Should he stay at AT&T until age sixty-five or take an early retirement? Several shadows of his psyche still held him back, but what were they, and what could he do about them? Precisely at this moment in his life, when he was open to answers and new questions, the right people, ideas, and experiences appeared to nurture the unfolding path of his life.

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Medium 9781626566743

32 September 11 and Its Aftermath for Me, Personally

Perkins, John Berrett-Koehler Publishers ePub

On September 10, 2001, I was traveling down a river in the Ecuadorian Amazon with Shakaim Chumpi, the coauthor of my book Spirit of the Shuar. We were leading a group of sixteen North Americans to his community deep in the rain forest. The visitors had come to learn about his people and to help them preserve their precious rain forests.

Shakaim had fought as a soldier in the recent Ecuador–Peru conflict. Most people in the major oil-consuming nations have never heard about this war, yet it was fought primarily to provide them with oil. Although the border between these two countries had been disputed for many years, only recently did a resolution become urgent. The reason for the urgency was that the oil companies needed to know with which country to negotiate in order to win concessions for specific tracts of the oil-rich lands. Borders had to be defined.

The Shuar formed Ecuador’s first line of defense. They proved themselves to be ferocious fighters, often overcoming superior numbers and better-equipped forces. The Shuar did not know anything about the politics behind the war or that its resolution would open the door to oil companies. They fought because they come from a long tradition of warriors and because they were not about to allow foreign soldiers onto their lands.

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Medium 9780253352415

Twenty-One: Joseph Haydn

William Brown Indiana University Press ePub

Haydn, I think, was the most original of his time, a gigantic figure in music, and is still a very much unexplored treasure, the master of the last movement. No one could write last movements like that; he always has a surprise for you. While the others—Brahms, Schumann, Beethoven included—were struggling with the last movement from the formal point of view, Haydn never did. I’m glad that the Trio learned the forty-three trios and recorded them all.

In Haydn you are very sparse with pedal, although you don’t think of the harpsichord when you play him. You think of what he sounds like to you, and of course you often have to adjust to the acoustics of a big hall. What you give when you play Haydn is his character—noble, grand, and more sophisticated than young Beethoven was at that time.

Mvt. 1. Allegro

M. 1. A special sound. The theme has inflection. Come down from the C.

M. 9. Left hand decrescendo with the first sixteenth notes. Then crescendo with the second group.

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Medium 9781574414509

Chapter 21: Indian Summer

Paul Lee Johnson University of North Texas Press PDF


Indian Summer

Meanwhile, events taking place many miles away from Cochise County profoundly affected everyone. On the same day that Acting Governor Gosper wrote his letter to Secretary of State Blaine, a detail of soldiers rode up to the

“sub-agency,” a secondary dispensary in the San Carlos Indian Reservation.

As the soldiers approached, panic overcame the Chiricahua Apaches, who rode away from the sub-agency en masse, and out of the San Carlos Reservation altogether. They feared the soldiers were coming to wipe them out. In reality, the soldiers expected to round up a handful of leaders who had participated in the Cibecue fighting weeks before.

Once the outbreak began, events took on a momentum of their own. The leaders of the Indian bands were some of their most celebrated warriors: Juh,

Bonito and Geronimo. Expecting persecution, they attacked the first whites they came across: a train of freight wagons under the supervision of Bartolo

Samaniego on Sunday morning, October 2, 1881. Ironically, the wagons were carrying supplies to Fort Thomas where they would be dispensed among the

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