#Vestibule 1 : Universe/Door 8

[lokiversefics]

GROUNDED Updated - Chapter 15 : Momentum

(art by NaSyu)

-= Momentum =-

Strange finally meets the Ancient One (Celt) for the first time; though that meeting and Strange himself are a little different from what Celt is expecting. For One.. Tony Stark is present and in his company. And oh, does she have questions and extra words for him, and Ormr's absence at Tony's side. She has guesses as to why that's a thing. Barnes has assembled the first two parts of the Lupi; consisting of a somewhat narrowed mix of well.. himself, and a few others from differing shards. Numerous Loki he's never met accompany them.. some with the intent to personally join the search for Ego.. or his remains; with the intent of pursuing a way to at least try to better control the Power-Stone fueled cosmic fire Door Fifteen's Peter Quill has become: the half-Celstial in question at this point having consumed half of their Titan's solar system. In New York, Vulture raises his head earlier than other Shards thanks to the changes not just in the world climate: but especially to how differently from other Shards the Avengers function after their very different outcomes in Germany and Siberia; leading to Parker ending up back at the Tower to accidentally discover Tony has kept it: and why he has..

Read from Chapter One ......... Here (link).

Read from the latest Chapter 15 ...... Here (link).

[anne-lister-adventures]

Tuesday, 25 February 1840

8 3/4

1

Goodish night having pulled my bois de lit (in comfort here with each of us a bois de lit) into the middle of my room – Not bit at all – Breakfast at 10 1/4 to 11 1/4 – A[Ann] tolerably right again I took no notice of last night   she wrong at my spending the money on the eggs if I would not eat them her mind is not large as to little matters – Traineau in waiting from 12 1/2 – Wrote the last 2 pp.[pages] till now 12 40/’’ – Fine day – Reaumur 10 1/2º at 8 3/4 a.m. on the window seat in my room and Reaumur 13 1/2º 1/4 hour afterwards close to my bedhead between 2 stoves – And Reaumur -27 1/2º dehors to the North at 11 a.m. according to George who took (as usual) the thermometer out of doors – 

Out at 1 to 3 40/’’ Off from Simbirsk (Pronounced Sim-beersk) at 5 10/’’ – Very fine day – Very fine afternoon and evening – Sun sinking beautifully as we drive off – Out from 1 to 3 40/’’ – 1st Southwards to the high ground along the Volga – what a noble river! – 3 versts over to village on the other side rather to the North – The river overflows up to the mountains and is 20 v.[versts] wide to the ft.[foot] of the mountains – The villages are just out of water – Cannot stir from there but in boats – 2 large islands near the city – Islands overflowed on the tops of the brushwood above water – 

Simbirsk seen from the river. (Image Source)

Right bank every where high, and left bank highish a little to the North of the city – Sviaga river 2 v.[versts] from Volga just of the city to the North – Drove Southward along the high ground over the Volga – Gardens and orchards and magnificent view along the river North and South – We drove down upon the Sviaga (which does not divide the town – Vide Geography Dictionary of Russia) – The Town lies on high ground between the 2 rivers and the basse ville and one or more churches along the waters edge of the Volga, and a village like Slobode where horses are kept and sold, is divided from the few houses on this side of the Town by the Sviaga across which is a wood bridge and direct road to Moscow – On the low ground near the Sviaga is the prison a square enclosure with a square Tower 6 yards square at each corner and space between = 5 towers or 5 x 6 = 30 yards + 6 x 2 = 42 yards – Tops of Towers flat or so nearly so, roofs not visible from below – 2 chimneys on the top of the Tower next to us – One large arched gateway into the prison – A plain but handsome looking building – 

A little farther on, the cemetery full of tombs square pointed roofs on 4 wood colours or 4 brick white washed pillars more than 1/2 tombs of this sort – The cemetery covered with them – Singular appearance – Not a single tree there – The tower of the cemetery church (where the funeral service is read over the corpse) is in the middle of the building – The principal street runs parallel with the Volga with other streets parallel and other at right angles to it –

Of the churches here (17 according to our coachman, 16 according to our landlord, and 12 according to Schnitzler) only observed one in the Moscow style of the 1 large dome and 4 small one of which at each corner of the large one, that is finishing each corner of the square from which the large dome springs – The clochers here at the west end, and generally joined to the centre part of the church, i.e. the square from which the dome or sometimes 8tagon[octagon] lantern Tower springs) by a nave, and ground floor of the clocher forming a great West entrance to the church – 

Went into the Convent of Women (80 of them) walled round like all the convents and monasteries I have seen in Russia – 2 churches within the enclosure – Went into the one with clocher as just described square tower in retiring grades, finished in a sharp spire – Very picturesque – And lantern tower at the other end – From the clocher one entered a sort of vestibule chapel then the nave on church, and the lantern Tower seemed to be over the prestole – 

The other church in this convent in a square finished in a top cornice as is very frequent in these square churches of grotesque semicircular arches, the disc thro’ not said here being painted in fresco and this sort of church at Moscow University? being topped in 5 domes as above mentioned –

The effect of this outside painting is always striking and good – Is the square the oldest form of church? Was it not a square stone that Jacob set up to God in Bethel? – And is not the Kaaba at Mecca a square? And this square was roofed up to a point? – 

The Tower of Babel was one square upon another square in retiring grades, and the last grade would have finished in a pyramid point, as do so many of the Tartar remains of this day e.g. the beautiful Tower at Kazan – The Cathedral (Simbirsk or more properly Sinbirsk?) is one large dome springing from a circular base, with 4 8style[octostyle] porticos (as at Helsingfors) not yet finished inside – The dome covered with metal of a lead-like lustre – 

Our cocher (of 2 horse Traineau) said in answer to A-s[Ann’s] question, if the enormous apples mentioned by Schnitzler in his 1st vol.[volume] were grown here, yes! Apples of 1/2 ft.[foot] in diameter – Many orchards close around in the Town – The situation of the Town is very fine – All along the high bank of the Volga and at its ft.[feet] to the water’s edge of the V-[Volga] on one side, and that of the Sviaga on the other – How beautiful it must be in summer, as indeed it must be all these Towns (Nijni, Kazan, Simbirsk ….) so finely situated on this magnificent Volga – Nothing is wanting but that the precipitous heights should be of hard rock instead of marly sand – The Gastinoi Dvor large, and busy but old and much of wood and rather picturesque than good – There is a high road from Simbirsk via Samara to Orenburg about 600 v.[versts] said our landlord – A-[Ann] starved with the cold – Tea – 

Off at 5 10/’’ – Sixty villages in the immediate neighbourhood of Simbirsk were maliciously burnt down last summer our coachman or somebody told George – I should have noticed the large handsome new building for the Jurisdiction of the Free Peasants and those villages neither belonging to Government nor to Seigneurs – Tartars chiefly? Is not this the Chancellerie de Tutelle? Vide Geography Dictionary of Russia article Sarepta which has a jurisdiction of this sort at St. Petersburg – 

Off from Simbirsk at 5 10/’’ – A-‘s[Ann’s] door shut at starting – Shut mine just after writing the above notes in pencil in my rough now at 5 3/4, and Reaumur -10º lying in my open doorway – Reaumur -27º outside North this morning at 8 – Dark on arriving at Klutsitschi at 7 p.m. and lightened ourselves up – The lightened wax candle warms our Kibitka – 

I got out for a moment at Jasoschnaja to straighten my legs &c. – Largeish village? At Terenga at 11 3/4 pretty little church must be a good village? Too dark to see – Had intending going forwards – No horses – Must wait for their return till 6 in the morning – 

So drove back to the other end of the village and at the little Auberge at 12 10/’’ – Little small room but soon made ourselves very comfortable – Put our mattresses on the floor, and I lay down dressed as I was with my Chalat over me at one – A-[Ann] writing some while after – I was asleep when she lay down close by me – Very fine day –

                                                                                        versts

5 10/’’ to 7 Simbirsk to Klusitschi .                                      21 7 1/2 to 9 35/’’ K-[Klusitschi] to Jasoschnaja Taschla         26 9 57/’’ to 11 3/4 J-[Jasoschnaja Taschla] to Terenga .        22                                                                                             69

Some stops from this stage of Anne’s and Ann’s trip.

[in the margin of the page:]             Reaumur -27 1/2º at 11 a.m.

[in the margin of the page:]            Simbirsk

[in the margin of the page:]            churches

[in the margin of the page:]            Off from Simbirsk

[in the margin of the page:]            Chancellerie de Tutelle

[in the margin of the page:]            Reaumur -10º and -27º

Page References:  SH:7/ML/E/24/0024 and  SH:7/ML/E/24/0025

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale

1989-2020 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale (Manuscript of Poet Mario William Vitale) From 1993-1997 - Attended State University in Connecticut,Attempted plays : Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade,( His poetic aspirations had in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)Next from 1989-1997 ( Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry),* Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",(1998) Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".Back with rave reviews !* ( From 1999-2008:Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: ( 1999- Sent Editorial to:New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie;Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,* 2000-2007 : Magazine : ( Catholic) Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset !2008- Wrote poem entitled: ( The Heavy Cross) to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;* ( The Connecticut Poetry Society)* Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia WritersQuarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.* ( Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return,Thankfulness toward family and friends.( To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted ?One needs a pure heart that's fixed on truth,This is in order to withstand the true great test of time !Life is way too short,Press toward the goal or mark of our high calling that is in Christ Jesus The Lord !~My contempoarry artists include that of ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry.* Having been a member since 2006,My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and edgar Allen Poe.Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact,( In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creativepassion !The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a verypositive light.)To further the need for poetry to become more main stream, Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet. Mario William Vitale 1 Winfield Drive Wolcott, ct 06716 A Beacon Of Light Written by: Mario Vitale A beacon of light to a much hurting world in need ! Can't help but to claim.., Some sense of identity, Stregnth and encouragement only come from above ! Amidst in the distance, the trapped seagull.., Lieth frightened but still yet adrift ! In a most vengeful fashion striking the passing fish, A true source of hope, Yet a most triumphal beam ! This beacon of light shineth forth, Passerby's can err' escape the helping hand.., To the most sparkling of radiance ! (2)Thanksgiving Dinner by Mario Vitale Home for the holiday from New Orleans, with Mother and Father at the tiny drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany table with the gold, grinning claw feet; Father, choler- red-in the-face, short- sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry. Then Mother asks, “Won’t you have more?” and father : “Do you think Moll Flanders was a *****?” (I have suffered and bleached my hair blond.) I am silent before their replies. Mother sighs. “I can scarce speak to her.” And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin as paper and the rose- colored bowl of blown glass sitting on the silver stand, half- filled with water.) “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless daughter” (3) Song of Spring Today I heard a robin sing heralding the coming spring A song of exultation to the sky an ode to earth's awakening I saw a willow on the hill It's branches greening in the sun and all the earth seemed hushed & still sleeping streams began to run I heard a softly rising breeze whispering through the grass singing through the still bare trees waiting winter's chill to pass I saw the sun, so bright and warm warming the earth after the rain the buds and leaves, no frost to harm at least, at last, it's spring again. (4) The Ancients It's my last day with the old giants In mourning I hike the lost trails, sniffing the aroma of the bark, that cinnamon of the forest Under tepees of wood in a membrane of shadows, I stalk the earth, its mammal traces, its elusive tracks, to sit on a fallen log where spiders macramé, moss sloping to my knees unaware of invisibles within, grubbing in their tunnels A lizard taps my foot, responding, I muse to its touch, my thoughts like Indian visions, And when daylight mushrooms into night, and an owl hoots from cedar, I still sit with a lizard on my shoe Huddled with the ancients of the woods (5) Epiphany Written by: Mario Vitale It clings to the cliffed shore, to the wintered face of the thistle path, to the fingers of the old man's glove as he waves his memory homeward In that breath between come and go she moves up from the bay; gold turns her stride, the line of her dress, the soft sea pulling at her feet When he reaches out and the frail birds fly and the sun and the sky have married deep into the sea, it clings Even as his shadow threads retreat, it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist (6) A Return Home, Only Time Will Tell Written by: Mario Vitale Oh blessed hope ! Both hardly a believable dream, Sweltering heat with bloodshed in the street... Send the troops home ! There is no clear reason for them to roam.., These are desolate times ! For we have chosen ill faded rhymes.., The casualties are enormous ? For a stated cause that clearly atrocious.., A mother's cry as the door chime rings, A vanishing salute to freedom as the church choir sings ! Let us look above to all the heavenly love.., Merciful one, take this chip off my shoulder.., Stop the senseless fighting before our dear nation grows a bit colder, Suddenly, seeds were dropped out of a farmers bag, In time roots spring up fresh out of the fertile soil... As the sun heats up, Time will tell when this harvest will soon boil... In the vast game of life, One's time is so very brief ! The soul yearns for its' heavenly relief.., Share with others who may want to turn over a brand new leaf.., Time will tell of the true importance of helping one another, To never give into the finish line.., Nor harsh criticism that our society puts out ! Like a famous fighter in his final bout ! Time will tell of the return home, To the open arms of a loved one ! (7) A Valiant Knight Written by: Mario Vitale A Valiant Knight Death springs a new day basking in the breeze In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place A far off castle in the mountains away from it all A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust Often they would disagree on who it was to serve A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy The maiden would often come forth and see For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet Having a way of words that he would often share The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good (8) Hampton Beach The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer (9) God's World It is raining again. Summer will be over before it ever gets here Thunder rolls far away, drops hit the windshield, the sky turns gray The Sunflower, the blue Delpinium, the white Stinkwood drink the moisture greedily. The green and silver leaves of the Aspens sparkle as the rain hits them, and the wind turns them round and round The creek flows on, oblivious to the change in the weather. A break in the clouds allows a bit of sun to hit the side of a towering mountain Three cows slowly wend their way homeward. It is dusk. The gray clouds lift and the sun bursts through, before sliding behind the hills for the night It is God's World. He gives it to us to enjoy and to share with each other (10) Jake's House There was a man whose name was Jake Who had a house upon the lake Every morning he would wake And for breakfast have a piece of cake He had a private fishing hole; He always used a long cane pole He fried his fish on red hot coal And served it in a great big bowl For a pet, he had a cat (11) In The Zone Written by: Mario Vitale In The Zone whispers... through the dark deranged portals you evoke fear filled with angelic fervor on it's textual base yet we dig much deep then ever before cries in the dark will light the spark of what we need to know still we stand idle as the average novice introduces its spell along again then the sadness evokes a newer feeling dwindling through the vain extraction of the never world we visually see a flash then a new day approaches on the lawn two lovers having passionate *** the screams of vile extreme explodes throughout perhaps this is the place where Nero tread yet again I sit alone in my house now huddled in the corner the twilight sun has tainted my inner vision the howls of Satanic laughter gives a piercing shriek through a candle was lit by the edge of my bed One can remain lax in the quietness of the moment yet again the setting of the sun a new day has begun as we embark on the moment Does death hurt you the most or is it fear You can equate logic through a firm grasp of the hand whispers again... then a faint cry, we construct living pyramids to honor the dead A stroke of luck an the impulse ensues onto so much more but for what are we grasping for straws what are we searching for ? quietness again this time I'm in the zone as if zombie creatures with viscous long fangs that bite dripping blood off side we run away to hide no one questions anymore no one has a voice alone one last time yet feelings of grandeur awake to the message of hope that spills from the sky a challenge to be free is a question of time eyes with spots digging holes in a pool of blood Satan laughing again spreads his wings Suddenly I awake but to what ? (12) An End Of The Age Of Innocence Part III Written by: Mario Vitale In our fast paced twentieth century world.., We oft' have neglected to stop to smell the roses, Oft' we used to bow our heads silently to pray, As we reflect back to the sixties is had launched a pad to rebellion ! With a vast amount of liberal bias and thinking, No wonder why our nation is sinking.., Sinking amidst a cuss pool of mere morality.., For now it is a quite different time, A very unique but different type of day.., An end of the age of innocence, One hath been enlightened.., From seeking truth, Some fresh out of a garbage can.., Yet for Gods' sake, He hath such an amazing plan ! Hence, to shun the broad road, Yet to seek to venture in the narrow.., Such as a distant bird in flight ! You might see this creature venture out at night ? Of the Eagle nor the Sparrow.., It used to mean something to have a sense of common courteous.., To hold open the door for your neighbor ? Yet for the time being we relent and waiver.., Would you prefer another taste of a certain ice cream flavor ? To ponder we must be content with who we are in the inside.., Nor, a mere fancy suit or blazing sport's car, Life is a roller coaster.., In what you do while busy making other plans.., Finding solace among the height of nature., Such to think at what is quite simple, As a young child reflects on his or her poster board, Playing with their magic crayons.., For in eternity it is such a very long time ! Take heed in what you do, Now is the expectant hour ! What will one choose to do ? There can be no place nor need for any compromise, Within it's vast perpetual spectrum ! One just can't put a price tag on a genuine but unique heart ! Hence, with honest integrity.., The time for change is today ! (13) He Was There by Mario William Vitale From the inner silence of the lamb he was there In welcoming to the world to share Within the multiple of words the mouth speaks As a heart beats through the passage of time To every poem that was ever written To every burden ever lifted To rivers crossing where people living Sometimes loving other moments giving In storms that were outside brewing What is the significance of this love In painted pictures from above To every soldier in a battle To every cow amidst the cattle Not a second glance at any real romance A field of dreams throughout our head From both fire and ice will make you think twice Perhaps another chance at a roll of the dice When every kingdom comes thy will be done Shadows in the shining morn if there's a rose it bears a thorn, He was there in every circumstance When they tried to throw stones at her He was there drawing a line with his finger in the sand It is my hope that some day all will understand A glance at the past will tell us of our future Amidst the inner pain & uncertainty Through shadows in a field of dreams In moments of solace amidst the pain A light moved out upon the street outside A day that wasn't meant to be Thorn crown was pulled upon his head Those shouts of intense anger from the mob There was only one who would help him back on his feet, A light that brought only a few to greet Let us not run away & hide Each one of our sins was placed on that cross To lose the battle now would end in tragic loss Father please forgive them for they know not what they do He said the prayer now the rest is up to you That cross that broke a sinful world apart With his blood-soaked crown with spear in side To show the whole world he had nothing to hide The summoned cry brought about healing in the sky Watch the free angelic dove fly! (14) Momma Of Pearls by Mario William Vitale Since there's nothing I could find That was worth giving you, I sat down to think a while And write a line or two If I had a magic wand I'd wave it just for you, And give you anything you'd like No matter how many or few If I could give you back the years You so willingly gave to me I'm sure that you spend them over again The same as they used to be Remember when those days and nights Instead of going to the fair I'd always say tell me again The story of the three little bears I tried to get a strawberry pie But they were out of season Then I thought of gold Mario William Vitale Written by Mario William Vitale 48/M/Wolcott, Ct 310 Please log in to view and add comments on poems

[the-connection]

Trump and Republicans have shaped the Iowa students fatality an question of immigration even as family and friends call for healing

Mollie Tibbetts seemed to be inexhaustible. She was a cross-country runner, and a state-level competitive public speaker; she was active at religion and was wasting her college summertime trip working at a epoch camp helping children with literacy and crafts.

She was studying psychology at the University of Iowa and according to one of her friends who spoke to the Des Moines Register, she used " already everybody's counsellor ".

In June, she took the role played by "best man" at her dad's wed and dedicated a toast that increased family and friends to tears.

For five long weeks this summer, the 20 -year-old's smiling face has glowed from missing postings and button medals, on lawn clues in the tiny Iowa metropoli of Brooklyn and social media senses that have attracted love and feeling around the world.

She had last been considered going for an evening movement, pate east out of town on 18 July.

A hopeful, unpleasant research- in the ponds, farm buildings and fields of the rural parish 80 miles east of Des Moines- culminated on Tuesday with the grim notice that a mas had been discovered, hidden in a cornfield about 12 miles from town.

Cristhian Bahena Rivera, a 24 -year-old dairy farm worker from Mexico, who had apparently squandered a false name to conceal the fact he was an undocumented immigrant, was charged with her murder.

Video footage of his automobile going back and forth near the background of Mollie's disappearance led police to him. Court documents show that after his arrest, Rivera soon contributed police to the body.

He declared going out of his vehicle and running alongside Mollie, becoming upset when she said she would call the police. The statement says he claimed to have "blocked" his storage of incidents until he" noticed there was an ear portion from headphones in his sip and that is how he recognise "hes having" thrown her in the trunk ".

Within hours, Donald Trump had turned the murder into ugly election-year politics, employing a discussion at one of his typically furious rallies.

" Should have never happened ... the immigration laws are such a dishonor ," he told a boisterous crowd in West Virginia, a theme reiterated on the White House's Twitter account.

Trump had tolerated a hard Tuesday, rocked first by the hoax ordeal guilty judgments of his ex-campaign leader Paul Manafort, minutes subsequently by the guilty pleas of his long-term fixer Michael Cohen. Cohen told a New York court Trump guided him to break campaign busines constitutions with confidential remittances to silence two women from talking about alleged affairs with the presidential candidate.

By Wednesday, as Washington woke to regenerated talk of possible impeachment, Trump was anxious to change the subject. He released a video address that began:" Mollie Tibbetts, an incredible young woman, is now permanently separated from their own families ."

Donald J. Trump (@ realDonaldTrump)

pic.twitter.com/ wYCNmkkaNR

August 22, 2018 blockquote >

The language was a deliberate echo of denunciation Trump has faced for hardline immigration policies that have forcibly differentiated thousands of children from their parents.

Members of the Tibbetts family castigated attempts to politicise her slaying. Her aunt Billie Jo Calderwood wrote on Facebook:" Please remember, Evil comes in EVERY color. Our household has been anointed to be surrounded by kindnes, friendship and carry throughout this whole anguish by pals from all different nations and scoots ."

But for Trump, rightwing media and countless Republicans engaging to hang on in November polls, Mollie Tibbetts' death is a political opportunity- to resurrect that" construct the wall" anti-immigrant heat which helped elect Trump two years ago.

As the Trump loyalist and onetime Republican speaker of the House of Representatives Newt Gingrich told Axios:" If Mollie Tibbetts is a household name by October, Democrat will be in deep trouble. If we were able to locked by Manafort-Cohen, etc, then GOP could lose[ the] House naughtily ."

By Thursday, the Republican lieutenant minister of Texas, Dan Patrick, was condemning the American media, insisting" the CNNs, the MSNBCs, most of the print media in its own country, and the Democrats, they are all accomplice in the death of this young girl ".

One of Fox News' own presenters, Geraldo Rivera, accepted the highway the conservative path was rotating the events in Iowa. "This is a murder story," he said on breeze." It's not an migration fib ."

'If we want to heal we need to forgive'

Friends and family of Mollie Tibbetts act during a press conference on Tuesday. Photograph: Charlie Neibergall/ AP

In Brooklyn, Iowa, the parish council member Mary Jo Seaton helped organise a vigil for Mollie on Wednesday at St Patrick's Catholic church. She said:" This isn't about in-migration right now, or race, or any of that, this is about Mollie. This is Mollie's time. That's the sensitive ."

Seaton added:" Mollie used to come to religion with her grandmother. She was just a girl with a good deal of heart, a happy-go-lucky girl, someone that was desired by everyone. She touched a lot of people's lives ."

The vigil at St Patrick's drew around 250 beings, including Mollie's grandmother, and high school students who knew Mollie. The Rev Corey Close preached a theme of forgiveness, Seaton said.

" Beings who listened to the pastor's message would learn that there is evil everywhere and it's something you can't rationalise.

" He didn't expect us to walk out the door that night merely to forgive, but in the fullness of time, trying to forgive is going to help. If we want to soothe, we need to forgive ."

On Sunday at 2pm, a funeral mass will take place today at Tibbetts' aged high school gymnasium. The religiou will not be big enough to hold all of the mourners.

" The past five weeks all levels of society has pulled together ," Seaton said." The society was together from day one, everyone pitched in and there was a lot of hope to accompanied Mollie home. We did generate Mollie home, but not in the sense that we all hoped for ."

The summer of feeling has changed the small parish, a modest downtown surrounded by farmland and known as the City of Flags, which selects travellers taking a break from the I-8 0 interstate to see its exhibition of flags from every state.

" Things have changed ," Seaton said," in terms of looking at how we live. We leave our doorways opened and we leave the keys in our gondolas, kids run down wall street to go out and play. I'm not saying we still don't, but it's more of a guarded thing.

" I hope in time that are able to also heal and we'll get back to that smell of still feeling safe in local communities ."

'Our employee was not who he said he was'

The Lang family, which hired the alleged gunman for four years at Yarabee Farms, just outside Brooklyn, have reported receiving death threats. They initially said he had been vetted squandering the government's E-Verify system, but later said Rivera had equipped phony ID and social security documents.

" What we learned within the last 24 hours is that our employee was not who he said he was ," Dane Lang told a press conference.

Although Rivera's supervisors tried to ensure he was authorised to work, undocumented works are a fact of life on farms across Iowa and the US. Iowa has a small but growing immigrant population, leant at 148,000 people, or 4.8% of the state person, according to research by the American Immigration Council . The contemplate calculates there are 40,000 undocumented immigrants in Iowa.

The US Department of Labor's national agricultural workforce questionnaire pictures 47% of the farming personnel across the US is working without legal authority. The remain of the workforce is made up of 31% US citizens, 21% permanent residents and 1% foreigners with occupation visas.

Iowa has an ageing and refusing population and varies depending on foreign-born proletarians. According to a study this year by Iowa State University, agricultural occupations would diminish unless there is a loss of foreign workers, because native-born Americans would not fill employment and farmers and farmers would have to cut output.

While agriculture vestibules hard-bitten in Washington for a pragmatic coming to foreign workers, Republican have long resisted the concepts of holding greater frontier security into a range of immigration reforms, including offering a track to citizenship for the estimated 11 million undocumented the population living in the US.

Fear-mongering conservatives are immediate to foreground instances of immigrants and felony. But "the worlds largest" definitive research shows that illegal immigrants are less likely to be convicted for slaughter than native-born Americans.

Alex Nowrasteh, who co-authored that analyze at the Cato Institute libertarian thinktank, wrote this week that his study goes to show that in Texas, the only state that prevents data on the increasing numbers of undocumented immigrants convicted for specific misdemeanours, native-born Americans were imprisoned of homicide at a rate of 3.2 per 100,000 parties, compared with a homicide belief frequency for undocumented immigrants of 1.8 per 100,000.

He criticised those whipping up a political firestorm, publish:" They want to imprison all illegal immigrants of this murder in the court of public opinion , not just the actual murderer ."

Trump has systematically exploited panics over immigrants and crime since the launch of his expedition. As the midterms approaching, he is trying to claim that work has been engaged in on his territory wall. In world Congress has only agreed to $1.6 bn to replace a few existing elongates of fencing, rather than the $25 bn Trump wanted.

Frank Sharry, of the pro-immigration radical American Voices, described Trump's exploitation of the assassination of Mollie Tibbetts as" morally bankrupt and politically desperate ".

He said:" Trump won the election in part because he demonised the' other '. Trump was able to have a compounded message that fomented ethnic gap and talked about being a singer for the forgotten work. Two years later, all he has on offer- apart from a tax piece that strung the pockets of the super rich- is fomenting racial pressure, trying to encourage white-hot Americans to fear brown people.

" The theme that Trump is going to go around the country screaming about dark-brown felons and lily-white both victims and that is going to turn the tide in the midterms is frantic and ugly and I don't think it is going to work.

" It's disgusting what they are doing and I think it's going to backfire ."

Read more: http :// www.theguardian.com/ us

[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

How the U.S. put an end to plane hijacking and why gun reform advocates should take note.

Image by Tatiana Cardenas/ Upworthy. As thousands across the nation prepare to take to the streets on March 24, 2018, for The March for Our Lives, we’re taking a look at some of the root causes, long-lasting upshots, and approaches to solving the handgun savagery plague in America. We’ll have a new installment every day this week. At one point in this country, an aircraft was hijacked at the rate of formerly a week. Between 1968 and 1972,( a date that scribe Brandon I. Koerner dubbed the “golden age of hijacking” ), more than 130 airliners were hijacked. The practice was so prevalent, sometimes there would be more than one incident a era. Not unlike our current mass hitting epidemic, skyjacking — as it came to be known — is an issue so complex and repeated that the American government, passengers, and even airlines themselves began to think of it as exactly high standards threat of air travel. Yet between the mid-1 970 s and 9/11( and again after 9/11 ), skyjacking practically ceased to exist. What changed? And how did it get so bad in the first place? Through eight jaw-dropping actualities, I’ll step you through some of Koerner’s account of this incredible time in American biography that wasn’t very long ago — and what gun violence prevention counsels can learn from it. Photo by Scott Olson/ Getty Images. 1. Plane hijacking wasn’t a routine presence in the U.S. until 1961, when all of a sudden, people wanted a quick flee to Cuba. The hijacks embarked not long after the conclusion of the Cuban revolution. U.S. and Cuban ties-in weren’t strong at the time. Some encountered hijack as the only space to return to their home country or as a one-way ticket to what they view as a kind of “socialist Club Med.” Hijackers would board flights and demand to be taken to Havana. At the time, the airlines and the FAA told captains and crew not to bicker or take any daring action, but instead to deliver on the hijackers’ demands and make them where they expected. Trips to Cuba grew so repeated that captains were given Spanish motto placardsto help communicate with the Spanish-speaking hijackers. The Paseo de Marti( formerly Prado Boulevard) in Havana, circa 1960. Photo by Three Lions/ Getty Images. 2. Hijacking was so common, it became a major theme on TV displays and movies. Monty Python play-act a cartoon about it, and aircrafts became a high-stakes setting for countless a TV theatre and cinema. Time magazine even wrote a piece in their travel part on what to do if your plane is hijacked. Keep that one in your carry-on. 3. What did Castro think it is right all these unsolicited advents? He wasn’t too pleased. Castro didn’t precisely roll out the red carpet for the giant planes and wannabe superstars shoring in his country. Koerner, generator of “The Skies Belong to Us, ” shared the two most frequent demises of hijackers in an interview with CNN TAGEND “One, you would be put in a South Havana dormitory called Hijacker House, where you were given about 16 square paws of living space with a cot, and they give you 40 pesos a month,( and) you kind of “re going to have to” fend for yourself. It was a really awful life. And if the government was didn’t looks just like you — for example, if only we vicious on board the plane or if you cheat any of the passengers — they would actually send you to these gulags in the southern part of the country where you would gather sugar cane. And the conditions there were just utterly nightmarish.” 4. In 1969, one hijacker recognise there used to be lieu to start other than Cuba, opening up a literal nature of misfortune. On the run away from a military court martial, Raffaele Minichiello, an Italian immigrant and U.S. Marine, decided to abscond to his home country rather than stand trial. He hijacked a plane honcho from Los Angeles to San Francisco, let passengers out in Denver, then asked to fly to New York. When they got to the Large-hearted Apple, Minichiello( in so many names) responded “Gotcha! I actually want to go to Rome.” FBI agents tried to stop him in New York, but Minichiello shelled a round into the fuselage and they backed off. After stopping again in Maine and Ireland, Minichiello manufactured it to Rome. His “successful” expedition caused other hijackers to meditate large-hearted, seeking moves to North koreans and Algeria. Some inaugurated ask questions fund and golden barrooms. Minichiello was arrested in Rome, on Nov. 1, 1969. Photo by AFP/ Getty Images. 5. While the hijackings were a terrifying, risky nuisance, the FAA squandered their political weight to prevent any legislation from transferring. Airlines were booming high-tech professions at the time. The FAA did everything they could to keep them fortunate. Airport security was nonexistent because airlines reckoned no one would want to deal with the hindrance. They pushed back against any legislation calling for metal detectors or physical research. Speaking on behalf of the members of the FAA at a congressional hearing in 1968, staffer Irving Ripp spoke, “It’s an inconceivable difficulty short of researching every fare. If you’ve got a husband aboard that wants to go to Havana, and he has got a shoot, that’s all he needs.” A view of the Trans World Airline Terminal in New York, circa 1962. Photo by Hulton Archive/ Getty Images. 6. The FAA did manage to establish a task force is putting forward answers. They lobbied notions from the public and the latter are, well, engaging. Ideas from referred citizens included forcing everyone on the plane to wear boxing gloves, building a bogus Havana airport in Miami so planes could land there and hijackers could be arrested by American operators, positioning trap doors near the cockpit, and even toy the Cuban national chant before flights to see if anyone knew the words. Oh, and the whole “build a fake airport” idea was actually seriously considered at one point.( Too expensive .) 7. A psychologist and hijacking task force representative dug into the backgrounds of the hijackers to help him screen potential threats. His name was John Dailey, and he cross-examine everything from hijackers’ deviation municipalities to clothing and methods of payment. Eventually he created a checklist to help weed out growing threat from a ocean of passengers and discreetly pull aside a few for added screening. The FAA stood Dailey to research his method, and it was successful. Nonetheless, it relied heavily on gate negotiators and not trained protection personnels. The American Boeing 707 circa 1958. Photo by Reg Speller/ Fox Photos/ Getty Images. 8. What finally started the FAA change their pitch? The the risk of being mass fatalities — and legal issues. On Nov. 10, 1972, three hijackers threatened to disintegrate Southern Airways Flight 49 into a nuclear investigate reactor near Knoxville, Tennessee, if they didn’t receive$ two million. The airline was put forward by the money, but the flight sustained( with a few stops and interruptions) all the way to Havana, where the hijackers were put in jail. Realizing the planes could be used as weapons, the threat of loss of life onboard and mass fatalities on the ground was enough to move the FAA and the government to act. Starting Jan. 5, 1973, the FAA articulated mandatory screenings in place for all airplane fares. And despite the FAA’s concerns, most people didn’t are likely to judgment. Security protects inspect passengers at a defence checkpoint in London, 1975. Photo by Evening Standard/ Hulton Archive/ Getty Images. Our country transitioning from hundreds of hijackings to hardly any was no accident. It’s a reminder of what can happen when the governmental forces makes authority back from big business and lobbying establishments. Yes, hijackings still appeared after 1973, but they were significantly less frequent and often ended without occurrence. Universal passenger screening started on January 5, 1973. American hijackings instantly plummeted to imperceptible grades. pic.twitter.com/ c1lC6ZiVYm — Brendan I. Koerner (@ brendankoerner) October 3, 2017 Like Southern Airways Flight 49, the two attacks on September 11 made speedy, comprehensive certificate changes to prevent same assaults. While the changes have been forestalling or ponderous at times, they’ve been successful. Gun violence is an issue the firearm vestibule believes is impossible to solve. The airlines reckoned screening would break their business, so they engaged it tooth and nail while passengers are really oppressed. The NRA and the legislators they patronize seem to think mass shootings are the expenditure we pay to continue our Second Amendment freedoms. But there has to be a better path — particularly one that doesn’t center on selling more shoots. If we are capable of leant an rapid death to the “golden age of commandeer, ” surely we can work together to put an end to this destroying period of pervasive firearm violence. Don’t conclude anyone who speaks commonsense policy changes won’t labor. They once have. Photo by Spencer Platt/ Getty Images. For more of our look at America’s gun violence scourge, check out other storeys in this line: The next time someone condemns mass shootings on mental illness, send them this . Parkland kids are changing America. Now are the black teenages who helped pave their mode . Dear America: Teenagers doing active-shooter instructs is not normal . Answer 3 questions to find out which gun brutality action plan is right for you . http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/06/15/how-the-u-s-put-an-end-to-plane-hijacking-and-why-gun-reform-advocates-should-take-note/

[coolcampingtents-blog]

Greatest Camping Tents

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[lokiversefics]

Perspective Peeks - Steve Rogers [V1:D8]

From Vestibule 1 - Universe/Door 8 : GROUNDED - Chapter 11: Mirrors

    Quick note and why I chose this one: Mare Nectaris gets described in a lot of ways through the Universes in Lokiverse, through a lot of different eyes. Though every Universe is different; the Mare itself is one thing that rarely is in large ways, from one Door to the next. And there’s a great deal more than the immediate, at a glance physical appearance and size to the place. More than the shipyard he often presents it as by far; with parts to it older than even he is. Out of all of those whose perspectives have touched looking at it, and it’s creator so far: D8′s Rogers muse (Maestro) has probably done a decent job of catching and putting the eerie sense and age of the place into some closer, much more personal perspective as I and the muses see it. At least to date, anyways.

Chapter 11 has a LOT of interesting muse takes in it too though with what changes are in effect: picking up Stephen Strange’s perspective again fresh out of the hospital after his accident too, and showing us how something as simple as watching the very different News broadcasts happening on an Earth where Asgard is building Embassies in a coffee shop; can shift a man’s perspective and future in small but powerful ways.

====\\\==----

       The view from the Moors was something else. But when their planet was in view, it was a strange feeling. A lot of what he thought were probably very over-expressed thoughts at this stage that went with coming out to the edges of those longer docks unoccupied and looking out at the big blue marble. Things better men and women and wordsmiths, could and probably had put to page. Steve had spent a good quarter of a sketchpad on it, the regular docks below and more the last two nights prior. There was a lot, to see.

                And so much of it, was all but dripping with memories he could brush just by looking at it; but not fully understand. He wasn’t sure if the others understood the depth of the place, when it came to those who hadn’t ever tried to draw or pull an image out of their minds and into the real world. Whole vistas, carved out of Loki’s mind; clipped and hidden in a crease in it’s surface he had carved into the moon: like a simple business card was tucked into a breast pocket. Buildings and parks. Libraries, an armory and vaults full of things that just; made his shelves back in Asgard look so small and  more than  expendable as he’d so casually said they were once.

         Back then, after Christmas in twenty thirteen; Steve had chosen a spot in the middle. Looked around that room; at all that history, a millenia and a half of the shards of his life and thought, between the room in Thirteen when they had all but been living together he knew enough. Understood, enough of him. And maybe he had, for the time he’d known him then?

         Walking the halls between the doorways though; catching the dark shapes of a forgotten throne room, the stone or painted or molded plaster of murals and carvings etched into the very walls at the corners they rarely saw otherwise using those doors? Walking silent shelves and long lines of lighted elevators to more dozens of times higher than he was tall full of knowledge, and art and magic and so much more? Steve thought, he  didn’t  know. He’d just  thought  he had.

        Rogers had the impression that he had just skimmed the edge of graphite along his cheekbones with his fingers, drawn the angles of his jaw; outlined the shape of his shoulders and dip of his head: stopped there, and told himself he knew his face.

                   And now? 

         Here Rogers was, a new pencil in hand; half gone and looking out from his eyes again for what must have been the tenth time in these past two days rather than face the flooring, stabbing loneliness he sometimes felt  radiated with turning back into the Mare. Miles of halls without a foot that had stepped their lengths that wasn’t Loki’s in what was probably centuries at best, if ever.

    Steve caught himself drawing him in view on the page, even without his presence actually there when the awe and inspiration really hit. A shadow of him against grey-white and deep marbled walls that didn’t show their color until you were up close. And on the edge of the shrine in the first park he’d visited, the empty streets beneath sky-high arches and a ceiling above it all so high it was no true surprise when the lighting lowered, what was left had been made out to imitate stars. There was an exception forming though, and trying to draw that room he’d been given for the third time, at a similar angle from the first had put him off a little realizing why.

          Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate.

                                    It was more that it had called him a little too closely?

        Because however small; the details of the room had changed;  ever so slightly at first: proof, in the pictures he had drawn from sight.

    A quarter of the sketchbook Steve had brought had been spent out here. Another on other places and sights he’d seen. But that room  --his own room-- had changed enough as of yesterday that his fingers had ended up flying through a third of the paper again between the first and second days: driven to capture everything again today.

        There was something exciting that reminded him of when he was still a teenager. Exploring places that had been around a generation or more; so new, to him. But aged to the generation or more long before he’d shimmied under a fence or climbed in a long broken or burnt out window. Places that lived and breathed things in his ears about the things they’d seen, and the names that had once passed through the air in their space; holding a piece of that life for as long as it and they held form. A hundred secrets only time itself  kept; in the space of a few feet: and more with every step.

                 Exciting, and frightening all at once.

     Except, with that room; there was something different. It took Steve a while to figure out what that was. And he wasn’t sure what to think or feel when he realized what was different was him; his presence: and the fact that at times? He could feel the room not watching, but wrapping around him; like the blanket his mom would wrap around his shoulders when he fell asleep on the chair he’d push out the window to the fire escape, just to doodle whatever caught his eye in the streetlights, or the sunset lighting, or the lines of Brooklyn’s skyline when the night was clear.

              Protection. Safety. Comfort. Support.

   Rogers had been given those things by those who cared for him and he cared for when he was younger; and been the one to try and give them out, give them back where they were needed, since he’d changed. Tried to become those things, where he could for others. Maybe for the times when he couldn’t have them for himself?

         Who knew, and either way;  that  was what made his room feel odd, and sometimes too much; and even a little more than he deserved for the completeness of that feeling when he settled into the bed or woke up comfortably without the kind of interruption he and Sam had talked about on and off since they’d met. He wondered what he’d say hearing this.  

          Buck had just kind of shrugged when he’d first mentioned the first little change; the height of the hang where he’d been leaving his shield -- since they’d brought their gear -- and said he hadn’t noticed anything himself. And for some reason; it felt ...almost too personal for some reason, to ask the rest. Well too personal and too weird.

           What was he going to say; ‘hey guys are the walls and stuff in your bedrooms changing in Loki’s shipyard slash witches tomb slash personal under-city on the moon?’

                         That sounded crazier to him than he wanted to admit. Never mind say out loud.

     And then Steve looked back; and his brows went up looking at the miles of the carved out lunar cliff that opened up and breathed through the mouth to the place, and he couldn’t help but laugh halfway through his own sigh.

         Because it was crazy, but here Rogers was. Sitting on the end of one of the many empty and waiting docks under the cranes and arms of the machinery used to secure and help build or repair the ships that weren’t there, legs hanging over the end around the railing; pencil still in one hand and thick pad of paper in the other.

               A drawing of his whole world rising up like a blue-green-brown marble dashed with white he knew were clouds; but looked like they’d been dots of dropped in liquid, whisked in with a needle or the twist of a fingernail through its colors. No bigger than those giant gumballs the grocery store vending machines had waiting on the way out the door, some two hundred to three hundred thousand miles away.

[tenaciouscupcaketaco]

“

1989-2017 Poetic Work Of Mario William Vitale

(Manuscript of Poet Mario William Vitale) From 1993-1997 - Attended State University in Connecticut,Attempted plays : Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade,( His poetic aspirations had in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)Next from 1989-1997 ( Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry),* Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",(1998) Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".Back with rave reviews !* ( From 1999-2008:Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: ( 1999- Sent Editorial to:New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie;Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,* 2000-2007 : Magazine : ( Catholic) Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset !2008- Wrote poem entitled: ( The Heavy Cross) to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;* ( The Connecticut Poetry Society)* Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia WritersQuarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.* ( Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return,Thankfulness toward family and friends.( To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted ?One needs a pure heart that's fixed on truth,This is in order to withstand the true great test of time !Life is way too short,Press toward the goal or mark of our high calling that is in Christ Jesus The Lord !~My contempoarry artists include that of ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry.* Having been a member since 2006,My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and edgar Allen Poe.Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact,( In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creativepassion !The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a verypositive light.)To further the need for poetry to become more main stream, Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform. Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson. Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct. Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet. Mario William Vitale 1 Winfield Drive Wolcott, ct 06716 A Beacon Of Light Written by: Mario Vitale A beacon of light to a much hurting world in need ! Can't help but to claim.., Some sense of identity, Stregnth and encouragement only come from above ! Amidst in the distance, the trapped seagull.., Lieth frightened but still yet adrift ! In a most vengeful fashion striking the passing fish, A true source of hope, Yet a most triumphal beam ! This beacon of light shineth forth, Passerby's can err' escape the helping hand.., To the most sparkling of radiance ! (2)Thanksgiving Dinner by Mario Vitale Home for the holiday from New Orleans, with Mother and Father at the tiny drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany table with the gold, grinning claw feet; Father, choler- red-in the-face, short- sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry. Then Mother asks, “Won’t you have more?” and father : “Do you think Moll Flanders was a whore?” (I have suffered and bleached my hair blond.) I am silent before their replies. Mother sighs. “I can scarce speak to her.” And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin as paper and the rose- colored bowl of blown glass sitting on the silver stand, half- filled with water.) “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless daughter” (3) Song of Spring Today I heard a robin sing heralding the coming spring A song of exultation to the sky an ode to earth's awakening I saw a willow on the hill It's branches greening in the sun and all the earth seemed hushed & still sleeping streams began to run I heard a softly rising breeze whispering through the grass singing through the still bare trees waiting winter's chill to pass I saw the sun, so bright and warm warming the earth after the rain the buds and leaves, no frost to harm at least, at last, it's spring again. (4) The Ancients It's my last day with the old giants In mourning I hike the lost trails, sniffing the aroma of the bark, that cinnamon of the forest Under tepees of wood in a membrane of shadows, I stalk the earth, its mammal traces, its elusive tracks, to sit on a fallen log where spiders macramé, moss sloping to my knees unaware of invisibles within, grubbing in their tunnels A lizard taps my foot, responding, I muse to its touch, my thoughts like Indian visions, And when daylight mushrooms into night, and an owl hoots from cedar, I still sit with a lizard on my shoe Huddled with the ancients of the woods (5) Epiphany Written by: Mario Vitale It clings to the cliffed shore, to the wintered face of the thistle path, to the fingers of the old man's glove as he waves his memory homeward In that breath between come and go she moves up from the bay; gold turns her stride, the line of her dress, the soft sea pulling at her feet When he reaches out and the frail birds fly and the sun and the sky have married deep into the sea, it clings Even as his shadow threads retreat, it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist (6) A Return Home, Only Time Will Tell Written by: Mario Vitale Oh blessed hope ! Both hardly a believable dream, Sweltering heat with bloodshed in the street... Send the troops home ! There is no clear reason for them to roam.., These are desolate times ! For we have chosen ill faded rhymes.., The casualties are enormous ? For a stated cause that clearly atrocious.., A mother's cry as the door chime rings, A vanishing salute to freedom as the church choir sings ! Let us look above to all the heavenly love.., Merciful one, take this chip off my shoulder.., Stop the senseless fighting before our dear nation grows a bit colder, Suddenly, seeds were dropped out of a farmers bag, In time roots spring up fresh out of the fertile soil... As the sun heats up, Time will tell when this harvest will soon boil... In the vast game of life, One's time is so very brief ! The soul yearns for its' heavenly relief.., Share with others who may want to turn over a brand new leaf.., Time will tell of the true importance of helping one another, To never give into the finish line.., Nor harsh criticism that our society puts out ! Like a famous fighter in his final bout ! Time will tell of the return home, To the open arms of a loved one ! (7) A Valiant Knight Written by: Mario Vitale A Valiant Knight Death springs a new day basking in the breeze In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place A far off castle in the mountains away from it all A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust Often they would disagree on who it was to serve A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy The maiden would often come forth and see For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet Having a way of words that he would often share The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good (8) Hampton Beach The smell of fresh fry doe Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer (9) God's World It is raining again. Summer will be over before it ever gets here Thunder rolls far away, drops hit the windshield, the sky turns gray The Sunflower, the blue Delpinium, the white Stinkwood drink the moisture greedily. The green and silver leaves of the Aspens sparkle as the rain hits them, and the wind turns them round and round The creek flows on, oblivious to the change in the weather. A break in the clouds allows a bit of sun to hit the side of a towering mountain TRate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)

Mario William Vitale

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How the U.S. put an end to plane hijacking and why gun reform advocates should take note.

Image by Tatiana Cardenas/ Upworthy.

As thousands across the nation prepare to take to the streets on March 24, 2018, for The March for Our Lives, we’re taking a look at some of the root causes, long-lasting upshots, and approaches to solving the handgun savagery plague in America. We’ll have a new installment every day this week.

At one point in this country, an aircraft was hijacked at the rate of formerly a week.

Between 1968 and 1972,( a date that scribe Brandon I. Koerner dubbed the “golden age of hijacking” ), more than 130 airliners were hijacked. The practice was so prevalent, sometimes there would be more than one incident a era.

Not unlike our current mass hitting epidemic, skyjacking — as it came to be known — is an issue so complex and repeated that the American government, passengers, and even airlines themselves began to think of it as exactly high standards threat of air travel. Yet between the mid-1 970 s and 9/11( and again after 9/11 ), skyjacking practically ceased to exist.

What changed? And how did it get so bad in the first place? Through eight jaw-dropping actualities, I’ll step you through some of Koerner’s account of this incredible time in American biography that wasn’t very long ago — and what gun violence prevention counsels can learn from it.

Photo by Scott Olson/ Getty Images.

1. Plane hijacking wasn’t a routine presence in the U.S. until 1961, when all of a sudden, people wanted a quick flee to Cuba.

The hijacks embarked not long after the conclusion of the Cuban revolution. U.S. and Cuban ties-in weren’t strong at the time. Some encountered hijack as the only space to return to their home country or as a one-way ticket to what they view as a kind of “socialist Club Med.”

Hijackers would board flights and demand to be taken to Havana. At the time, the airlines and the FAA told captains and crew not to bicker or take any daring action, but instead to deliver on the hijackers’ demands and make them where they expected.

Trips to Cuba grew so repeated that captains were given Spanish motto placardsto help communicate with the Spanish-speaking hijackers.

The Paseo de Marti( formerly Prado Boulevard) in Havana, circa 1960. Photo by Three Lions/ Getty Images.

2. Hijacking was so common, it became a major theme on TV displays and movies.

Monty Python play-act a cartoon about it, and aircrafts became a high-stakes setting for countless a TV theatre and cinema. Time magazine even wrote a piece in their travel part on what to do if your plane is hijacked. Keep that one in your carry-on.

3. What did Castro think it is right all these unsolicited advents? He wasn’t too pleased.

Castro didn’t precisely roll out the red carpet for the giant planes and wannabe superstars shoring in his country. Koerner, generator of “The Skies Belong to Us, ” shared the two most frequent demises of hijackers in an interview with CNN TAGEND

“One, you would be put in a South Havana dormitory called Hijacker House, where you were given about 16 square paws of living space with a cot, and they give you 40 pesos a month,( and) you kind of “re going to have to” fend for yourself. It was a really awful life.

And if the government was didn’t looks just like you — for example, if only we vicious on board the plane or if you cheat any of the passengers — they would actually send you to these gulags in the southern part of the country where you would gather sugar cane. And the conditions there were just utterly nightmarish.”

4. In 1969, one hijacker recognise there used to be lieu to start other than Cuba, opening up a literal nature of misfortune.

On the run away from a military court martial, Raffaele Minichiello, an Italian immigrant and U.S. Marine, decided to abscond to his home country rather than stand trial. He hijacked a plane honcho from Los Angeles to San Francisco, let passengers out in Denver, then asked to fly to New York. When they got to the Large-hearted Apple, Minichiello( in so many names) responded “Gotcha! I actually want to go to Rome.” FBI agents tried to stop him in New York, but Minichiello shelled a round into the fuselage and they backed off. After stopping again in Maine and Ireland, Minichiello manufactured it to Rome.

His “successful” expedition caused other hijackers to meditate large-hearted, seeking moves to North koreans and Algeria. Some inaugurated ask questions fund and golden barrooms.

Minichiello was arrested in Rome, on Nov. 1, 1969. Photo by AFP/ Getty Images.

5. While the hijackings were a terrifying, risky nuisance, the FAA squandered their political weight to prevent any legislation from transferring.

Airlines were booming high-tech professions at the time. The FAA did everything they could to keep them fortunate. Airport security was nonexistent because airlines reckoned no one would want to deal with the hindrance. They pushed back against any legislation calling for metal detectors or physical research.

Speaking on behalf of the members of the FAA at a congressional hearing in 1968, staffer Irving Ripp spoke, “It’s an inconceivable difficulty short of researching every fare. If you’ve got a husband aboard that wants to go to Havana, and he has got a shoot, that’s all he needs.”

A view of the Trans World Airline Terminal in New York, circa 1962. Photo by Hulton Archive/ Getty Images.

6. The FAA did manage to establish a task force is putting forward answers. They lobbied notions from the public and the latter are, well, engaging.

Ideas from referred citizens included forcing everyone on the plane to wear boxing gloves, building a bogus Havana airport in Miami so planes could land there and hijackers could be arrested by American operators, positioning trap doors near the cockpit, and even toy the Cuban national chant before flights to see if anyone knew the words.

Oh, and the whole “build a fake airport” idea was actually seriously considered at one point.( Too expensive .)

7. A psychologist and hijacking task force representative dug into the backgrounds of the hijackers to help him screen potential threats.

His name was John Dailey, and he cross-examine everything from hijackers’ deviation municipalities to clothing and methods of payment. Eventually he created a checklist to help weed out growing threat from a ocean of passengers and discreetly pull aside a few for added screening.

The FAA stood Dailey to research his method, and it was successful. Nonetheless, it relied heavily on gate negotiators and not trained protection personnels.

The American Boeing 707 circa 1958. Photo by Reg Speller/ Fox Photos/ Getty Images.

8. What finally started the FAA change their pitch? The the risk of being mass fatalities — and legal issues.

On Nov. 10, 1972, three hijackers threatened to disintegrate Southern Airways Flight 49 into a nuclear investigate reactor near Knoxville, Tennessee, if they didn’t receive$ two million. The airline was put forward by the money, but the flight sustained( with a few stops and interruptions) all the way to Havana, where the hijackers were put in jail.

Realizing the planes could be used as weapons, the threat of loss of life onboard and mass fatalities on the ground was enough to move the FAA and the government to act.

Starting Jan. 5, 1973, the FAA articulated mandatory screenings in place for all airplane fares. And despite the FAA’s concerns, most people didn’t are likely to judgment.

Security protects inspect passengers at a defence checkpoint in London, 1975. Photo by Evening Standard/ Hulton Archive/ Getty Images.

Our country transitioning from hundreds of hijackings to hardly any was no accident. It’s a reminder of what can happen when the governmental forces makes authority back from big business and lobbying establishments.

Yes, hijackings still appeared after 1973, but they were significantly less frequent and often ended without occurrence.

Universal passenger screening started on January 5, 1973. American hijackings instantly plummeted to imperceptible grades. pic.twitter.com/ c1lC6ZiVYm

— Brendan I. Koerner (@ brendankoerner) October 3, 2017

Like Southern Airways Flight 49, the two attacks on September 11 made speedy, comprehensive certificate changes to prevent same assaults. While the changes have been forestalling or ponderous at times, they’ve been successful.

Gun violence is an issue the firearm vestibule believes is impossible to solve. The airlines reckoned screening would break their business, so they engaged it tooth and nail while passengers are really oppressed. The NRA and the legislators they patronize seem to think mass shootings are the expenditure we pay to continue our Second Amendment freedoms. But there has to be a better path — particularly one that doesn’t center on selling more shoots.

If we are capable of leant an rapid death to the “golden age of commandeer, ” surely we can work together to put an end to this destroying period of pervasive firearm violence. Don’t conclude anyone who speaks commonsense policy changes won’t labor. They once have.

Photo by Spencer Platt/ Getty Images.

For more of our look at America’s gun violence scourge, check out other storeys in this line:

The next time someone condemns mass shootings on mental illness, send them this .

Parkland kids are changing America. Now are the black teenages who helped pave their mode .

Dear America: Teenagers doing active-shooter instructs is not normal .

Answer 3 questions to find out which gun brutality action plan is right for you .