Hannah knocked on my bedroom door around eight o’ clock. I was sitting at my desk, checking e-mail and listening to Thistle & Shamrock.

“What’s up?”

“Oh…I was just wondering what we were doing tonight.”

Mom and Dad were out to dinner, Stephen was tidying his room, and I had just finished cleaning animal cages and taken a shower.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“I dunno…”

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment she looked like she might cry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure.”

“I…”

Pause.

“Can we snuggle?”

“Of course. Would you like some raspberry tea?”

A smile. “Yeah.”

So we split a piece of blueberry pie and had it with our tea (pinkies out, of course). Then we snuggled on the couch and watched a documentary on public television. Someday, I’m really going to miss times like these.

An Ordinary Man: An Autiobiography
by Paul Rusesabagina

I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Rusesabagina speak at USM last Monday. The talk, in commemoration of Armenian Genocide Remembrance, was about genocide and indifference. Mom purchased two copies of his book, and after the lecture we were able to have them signed.

The first half of the book sets the stage for the events of April 1994. We are told about the history of Rwanda, its landscapes, its people, and the history of colonization. Far from being a tedious excercise in back stories, this informations helps to paint a broader picture of the ‘conflict’, and just how Mr. Rusesabagina was able to keep over 1,200 people alive inside his hotel. The terror of being witness to a nation-wide massacre, and the sense of betrayal by the world community, are palpable.

A sad truth of human nature is that it is hard to care for people when they are abstractions, hard to care when it is not you or somebody close to you. Unless the world community can stop finding ways to dither in the face of this monstrous threat to humanity those words Never Again will persist in being one of the most abused phrases in the English language and one of the greatest lies of our time.

more information:

Hotel Rwanda Rusesabagina Foundation

There are a lot of big things happening around the world at the moment. Sudan, Myanmar, and Nepal, to name a few.

But what I want to focus on is, to be honest, such a small issue it’s almost silly: the fuss over the Spanish-language version of “The Star Spangled Banner”.

I’ll admit I was quite shocked by Bush’s statement, and I must say, Sir, that I disagree with you completely. Though I haven’t heard it yet, I’m sure someone must have pointed out that America has no official language, only a predominant one.

Why is it so critical that immigrants, legal or otherwise, who barely have a grasp on our language must parrot off an English version of our national anthem? I understand that it was written in English, but the message of the song has not changed. Would it not be better for people to sing the song in the language that they understand? The language with which they feel they can fully express themselves?

They’re still singing about America, Mr. President.

It boggles the mind.