As you may or may not know, British Petroleum (BP) has gotten permission from the state of Indiana to dump increased quantities of ammonia and suspended solids into lake michigan. The EPA says they can't do anything to stop it but will beg BP to do something nice in return for ignoring the clean water act.
I don't know about you , but I like my drinking water without ammonia and sludge.
While there has been some politicking against BP and and a petition it's doubtful they will stop the dumping. It's apparent that we must act on our own. The only way to stop BP is to hurt them economically. So boycott BP. Buy your gasoline elsewhere and encourage everyone you know to do the same. Then email BP and tell them your boycotting. This shouldn't be a hardship for anyone. There are plenty of other gas stations to go to.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Steel 88
It was Yom HaShoah, the Holocaust memorial day. As a survivor, he was asked to speak.
He looked a little uncomfortable holding the microphone. He had repeated several times that he didn’t know what to say. He sat straight and firm, perfectly groomed and dressed. Eighty-eight years of Steel. He began to speak haltingly, the microphone held too far from his mouth to be useful, to a group comprised mostly of senior citizens, who mostly couldn’t hear him.
He spoke of several events, not necessarily in chronological order, but as they were dredged up from the depths of his hidden memory and dusted off. These were events from his life in Europe during the war. Several times he said that he had spent the last 60 years trying to forget those years. No dealing with the horrors, he just kept them locked in his head. Life must continue. Push ahead. Don’t look back. No relenting. Eighty-eight years of Steel. Steel doesn’t show emotion. But steel survives.
But there’s plenty of life there. He’s comfortable now and speaking freely and with confidence. He offers gallows humor, sarcastically commenting about the “nice life” during the war.
But when he mentions meeting his future bride, he is different. When he mentions being unable to go with her when she is sent elsewhere, he changes.
The microphone sways – just a little, the strong voice quavers – just a little, his expression softens.
For a moment, the steel softens and begins to turn molten. So the pent up grief and anguish can finally flow freely like molten steel and burst forth on his children, his friends, his acquaintances. They will all finally know his story and his wife’s story. Not the stories of other survivors that so many have heard, but his personal story. Unlike any other. Now anyone who has ever known him will truly see him. The powerful emotions, unshared with all but one, will rain down on the people around him like brimstone. Burning them with the searing heat of his tortured memories. But maybe they can’t bear it. It’s not pleasant.
So, the moment passes.
The Steel hardens, the microphone steadies, the eyes clear, the voice firms.
He is alone with his secrets. The only other one who knew them is gone now. The wonderful wife of 62 years, who he miraculously met again years later in the war. The only one who shared the secrets and the horrors. She is gone now. She took the secrets with her and he will finish the job.
No one will know. The memories will die. But why? Shouldn’t everyone know? Shouldn’t these terrible memories be preserved? So that we never forget and never allow it to happen again?
Why? Because Steel survives. When you’re tough enough to survive you move on. No looking back. Why remember when you’ve lived it already.
Look forward, not back. Show this to your children. Everyone else has had it easy compared to you, but you show them you are unscathed. Stronger than anyone. And they must be stronger as well. No matter how it affects them. And it will affect them.
In some ways, no matter how hard he will try to conceal it, it will hover over them, seep inside of them. In this haunting way, the Holocaust will live on in the children of war. But they will survive. After all, they are the children of Steel. But they will have the freedom to let their emotions loose. A luxury Steel could not afford.
He is almost done speaking now. Some events have been sketchily recalled. The fleeing to Russia. Going to Siberia. Going all the way to the Chinese border only to be turned away. Back to Siberia. Hiding in the bushes with four starving companions. Given an entire loaf of bread for the five of them to share by an old, bearded Russian “Aristocrat” when they hadn’t eaten for days.
To Kyrgyzstan, where he once again found his life’s love and was married to her by the “Jewish gonif with a beard”.
To Italy. To Austria. To America. The United States is better, but still not easy. Work three jobs to get by. He visited Chicago, but didn’t stay. It was too corrupt. Everyone tries to take advantage, but no one can stop you. You get by and the family grows. You thrive against all odds. Now he comes back to the present. To the life he lives now. Even if it’s lonelier than he expected.
The events recalled are not important.
The Steel is important.
Behind the Steel, the horrible memories remain locked.
But the Steel survived and today the children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren thrive.
He looked a little uncomfortable holding the microphone. He had repeated several times that he didn’t know what to say. He sat straight and firm, perfectly groomed and dressed. Eighty-eight years of Steel. He began to speak haltingly, the microphone held too far from his mouth to be useful, to a group comprised mostly of senior citizens, who mostly couldn’t hear him.
He spoke of several events, not necessarily in chronological order, but as they were dredged up from the depths of his hidden memory and dusted off. These were events from his life in Europe during the war. Several times he said that he had spent the last 60 years trying to forget those years. No dealing with the horrors, he just kept them locked in his head. Life must continue. Push ahead. Don’t look back. No relenting. Eighty-eight years of Steel. Steel doesn’t show emotion. But steel survives.
But there’s plenty of life there. He’s comfortable now and speaking freely and with confidence. He offers gallows humor, sarcastically commenting about the “nice life” during the war.
But when he mentions meeting his future bride, he is different. When he mentions being unable to go with her when she is sent elsewhere, he changes.
The microphone sways – just a little, the strong voice quavers – just a little, his expression softens.
For a moment, the steel softens and begins to turn molten. So the pent up grief and anguish can finally flow freely like molten steel and burst forth on his children, his friends, his acquaintances. They will all finally know his story and his wife’s story. Not the stories of other survivors that so many have heard, but his personal story. Unlike any other. Now anyone who has ever known him will truly see him. The powerful emotions, unshared with all but one, will rain down on the people around him like brimstone. Burning them with the searing heat of his tortured memories. But maybe they can’t bear it. It’s not pleasant.
So, the moment passes.
The Steel hardens, the microphone steadies, the eyes clear, the voice firms.
He is alone with his secrets. The only other one who knew them is gone now. The wonderful wife of 62 years, who he miraculously met again years later in the war. The only one who shared the secrets and the horrors. She is gone now. She took the secrets with her and he will finish the job.
No one will know. The memories will die. But why? Shouldn’t everyone know? Shouldn’t these terrible memories be preserved? So that we never forget and never allow it to happen again?
Why? Because Steel survives. When you’re tough enough to survive you move on. No looking back. Why remember when you’ve lived it already.
Look forward, not back. Show this to your children. Everyone else has had it easy compared to you, but you show them you are unscathed. Stronger than anyone. And they must be stronger as well. No matter how it affects them. And it will affect them.
In some ways, no matter how hard he will try to conceal it, it will hover over them, seep inside of them. In this haunting way, the Holocaust will live on in the children of war. But they will survive. After all, they are the children of Steel. But they will have the freedom to let their emotions loose. A luxury Steel could not afford.
He is almost done speaking now. Some events have been sketchily recalled. The fleeing to Russia. Going to Siberia. Going all the way to the Chinese border only to be turned away. Back to Siberia. Hiding in the bushes with four starving companions. Given an entire loaf of bread for the five of them to share by an old, bearded Russian “Aristocrat” when they hadn’t eaten for days.
To Kyrgyzstan, where he once again found his life’s love and was married to her by the “Jewish gonif with a beard”.
To Italy. To Austria. To America. The United States is better, but still not easy. Work three jobs to get by. He visited Chicago, but didn’t stay. It was too corrupt. Everyone tries to take advantage, but no one can stop you. You get by and the family grows. You thrive against all odds. Now he comes back to the present. To the life he lives now. Even if it’s lonelier than he expected.
The events recalled are not important.
The Steel is important.
Behind the Steel, the horrible memories remain locked.
But the Steel survived and today the children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren thrive.
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