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Medium 9781574412444

5. Our Baby's Homecoming

Peggy Heinkel-Wolfe University of North Texas Press PDF

By design, my entire year’s coursework led up to the writing of my final project. I wanted to finish. Yet I knew if I surrendered this dream, all my dreams might come true.

Our Baby’s Homecoming

We started packing up the flat, giving away things like the sled saucers and snowsuits that we had no use for in sunny

Sacramento. Mark sold the Subaru and bargained with several dealerships by phone for a minivan. He found one at a Virginia dealer near his mom’s Alexandria townhouse, a Chrysler minivan spacious enough and reliable enough to get us and our belongings back to California.

We stopped packing one afternoon to attend the lilac festival.

Patti was right about all the varieties. There were white and pink and fuchsia and magenta and light blue and dark blue and purple. The sweet, heady fragrance of lilacs wafted everywhere and helped us forget about the pressure and anxiety of moving again.

Sam stopped and squatted, pointing at a dandelion gone to seed.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Milk pod fairies,” I said, remembering a part of the Fantasia movie that he and Michael watched over and over.

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Medium 9781574414707

Chapter 24

Mark T. Smokov University of North Texas Press PDF

CHAPTER 24

A Violent Affray at Flo’s

A

fter his miraculous escape from Nashville authorities in late October 1901, Orlando Camillo Hanks headed to his native state of

Texas. On the way, he stopped long enough in Little Rock, Arkansas, to buy a pair of spectacles.1 Hanks was probably the mysterious visitor that Fannie Porter received in her room one night in November, telling her of Annie Rogers’ arrest. He was no doubt well aware of Kid Curry’s urgency in getting Annie some help. However, a visit to his mother and brother near Abilene, Texas, may have taken priority over San Antonio.

His mother, Mrs. Laura A. Cox, later made a sworn statement that she had last seen her son Camillo “in the early part of November, 1901, when we were together for several days.”2

Mrs. Cox also stated that Camillo had told her of receiving nearly

$11,000 for his share of the Great Northern train robbery, and that he had buried about $5,000 of the loot on her son Wyatt’s ranch in Callahan County. Wyatt later told her that, before leaving the ranch for good,

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Medium 9780253010766

l6 January-September 1915

Galina Kopytova Indiana University Press ePub

THE ARRIVAL OF A NEW YEAR brought no relief to the conflict: Germany had intended to finish the war by autumn, and Russia had planned to fight only on foreign territory and was now dealing with a front line moving toward its own borders. In the words of Rech, a popular newspaper in Russian intellectual circles, “to say whether or not the war ends in the coming year, of course, is impossible. Nevertheless, however long the war continues, however much effort it requires, we have enough physical and spiritual strength.”1 Among the artistic elite, some tried to find in the cataclysms of war an opportunity for evolutionary and artistic progress. For example, the composer Alexander Scriabin wrote, “How deeply mistaken are those who see in wars only evil and the results of accidentally formed discord between peoples.”2

Meanwhile, the Heifetzes began the year in a new home—a rented apartment on Yekateringofsky Prospekt, renamed Rimsky-Korsakov Prospekt in the 1920s. The street starts in a residential area and then stretches southwest through a square that is home to the enormous white and blue St. Nicholas Cathedral; from there both the conservatory and the Mariinsky Theater are visible. The street then continues alongside the Yekaterininsky Canal before it ends around Kalinkinskaya Square. The Heifetzes settled at this end ofYekateringofsky Prospekt in building 115. This would become the Heifetz family’s final address in the city. They lived in this apartment for two-and-a-half years up to their departure for the United States. The walk to the conservatory from this new apartment took twenty minutes, which was longer than before, but a tram stopped outside their building. The neighborhood where they settled was not particularly upscale; it joined the quarter between the Fontanka River and the Yekaterininsky Canal, or the “ditch,” as the latter was then unflatteringly called. Apartments in this area were packed together tightly, but unlike the more central streets, the new location was at least quiet and peaceful.

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Medium 9781574412277

7. Trouble in Colorado County

Paul N. Spellman University of North Texas Press PDF

7

TROUBLE IN COLORADO

COUNTY

Everyone had a pistol and guns were hidden all over the train.

Ben Stafford stepped out of the barbershop onto the main street of Columbus. It was a cold, blustery December morning.

Sumner Townsend was waiting for him in the street. The hot words that had been exchanged for months between the two cattlemen were suddenly replaced by gunfire. Ben drew his pistol faster and his first shot pierced Townsend’s arm. Sumner’s pistol jerked downward at the impact of the bullet, and his wayward shot imbedded in Stafford’s ankle. Ben fired three more times, wounding Townsend in the shoulder, before both men slumped to the ground in pain.1

The shoot-out between these two men of Colorado County took place in 1871, and trouble simmered another two decades before boiling over once more, although later stories of an ongoing “feud” were greatly exaggerated. Still, there were plenty of Townsends and Staffords to go around, and everyone kept an eye on the other. Light Townsend was sheriff in 1890, and his nephew Larkin Hope city marshal. Capt.

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Medium 9780253016980

7. Sunday, April 17, 2011 A Day of Remembering

Bob Hammel Indiana University Press ePub

Seven

For Dr. Larry Rink, the time from hearing about Bill Cook’s death while in China to getting to Bloomington is a blur. “I got back the next day,” he says. “I didn’t go home. I went right to the house. I can’t believe I wasn’t around.”

It has been more than two years now, and that knowingly irrational feeling hasn’t passed. Since another of his close friends, basketball coach Bob Knight, was the U.S. Olympic coach in 1984, Rink has been involved with international sports physicians’ groups and risen to the highest ranking possible. The business card he was given by the International University Sports Federation identifies him as “Chair Medical Committee.”

Within the field, doctors can serve at just one Olympics, and Rink’s time came at Barcelona in 1992. But, just as big in scope and number of participating countries and athletes is the every-two-years International University Games, and that is the group he continued to serve up through the summer 2013 edition in Kazan, Russia.

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Medium 9780253001931

5 - Ending the American Addiction to Foreign Oil

John T. Shaw Indiana University Press ePub

On a cold, windy late October day in 2006, Richard Lugar sat in a small storefront office in Fowler, Indiana, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup and listening to a discussion about the power of wind. Seated next to two state legislators, Lugar paid close attention as Wayne Hoffman, the president of Orion Energy, walked through a detailed PowerPoint presentation about the potential of a wind farm, then under construction in Benton County, a farming community in central Indiana. Hoffman made the case that wind energy could be critical to the future of the state while also producing profits for his company. Wind energy, he said, is a free, inexhaustible, and widely available domestic resource. It generates electricity in a way that does not pollute the air or water, nor does it emit greenhouse gases. Hoffman argued that wind energy is a hedge against continuing increases in the cost of fossil fuels and increasing restrictions on pollution from fossil fueled power plants. Moving from the big picture to the specific, Hoffman pointed out that Orion’s project in Benton County could be a significant energy and economic asset for the town of Fowler and the surrounding area. He walked through the details of the project and said that if all went well, Orion might be interested in building up to eight hundred towers with wind generators, making the Benton County wind farm the largest in the United States, and might build additional farms in Indiana if this project was successful.

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Medium 9781574414257

One: The Guadalupe Homestead

Paul N. Spellman University of North Texas Press ePub

CHAPTER 1

The Guadalupe Homestead

Isaac Samuel Rogers stood straight and tall at the center of the small Bolivar Courthouse assembly room. He pulled at his tight starched collar, the twenty-one-year-old Tennessee farmer uncomfortable in suit and tie on this cold March evening. But the occasion of his wedding kept him resolute, somber, uncomplaining. To his left stood his brother William, like Isaac a farmer in the Hatchie River Valley of Hardeman County, Tennessee. Seated just behind him in the straight-backed hickory chairs were several members of the Elkins family—the elder William, his wife and a cousin or two sat ramrod straight at the edge of their seats. On Isaac’s right stood eighteen-year-old Mahala Elkins, soon to be his bride. Woodson Vader, justice of the peace for the Bolivar area and a neighbor and friend of the Rogers clan, intoned the civil ceremony then pronounced the couple husband and wife. Isaac was pleased to loosen his collar for the remaining festivities that Tuesday evening. It was March 18, 1834.1

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Medium 9781574415124

9. The Battle of Poison Spring, Arkansas

Robert W. Lull University of North Texas Press ePub

Chapter Nine

The Battle of Poison Spring, Arkansas

Steele soon discovered that the ideal base at Camden was as much a trap as a resource. As his corps flowed into Camden, he received word that the Confederate army in Louisiana defeated General Banks’ large Union command, forcing Banks to withdraw back down the Red River. Steele had to hold tight in Camden to determine what would be the future course of the overall campaign to Shreveport.1

There was nothing available in Camden to sustain Steele’s corps. The departing Confederate soldiers had left behind a welcoming gift of water wells contaminated with the corpses of dead animals.2 The region around Camden for many miles was devoid of forage and rations. Confederate soldiers based in Camden before the Yankee incursion had picked the countryside bare.3 The wagon train of supplies he so urgently ordered from Little Rock a week earlier was not coming to Camden. To his dismay, an untimely riverboat collision would delay the shipment indefinitely.4

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Medium 9781574414677

17. Sober, Steady, and Respectable Man

Rick Miller University of North Texas Press PDF

17

SOBER, STEADY,

AND RESPECTABLE MAN

I N E A R LY AU G U S T 1 8 8 0 , the Sheriff ’s Association of Texas met at the Dallas Opera House. Sheriff Eugene Glover of Duval County offered a resolution that the Frontier Battalion and Oglesby’s Special

Troops “were recognized as an auxiliary to the regular constabulary force of Texas indispensable at present to the frontier counties, and in those officers we recognize the right men in the right place.” The resolution was unanimously adopted.1

Quartermaster Neal Coldwell made an inspection of George Baylor’s

Company C detachment at Ysleta in El Paso County. He was appalled at the lack of discipline:

The men do no guard duty at quarters except day guard over the horses while out grazing. On scout the men march as they please, and are generally scattered over the country. No precaution is used on approaching the water holes when Indians are likely to be camped, but the men go along shooting at any game that may be within range.

Coldwell did note that Baylor strictly enforced sobriety among his men, and that he was well liked by the company as well as the citizenry. The company had very little to do, and probably the only reason to maintain

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Medium 9781574412338

Faith in the Unknown

Edited by Karen A. Waldron, Janice H. Brazil, and Laura M. Labatt University of North Texas Press PDF

faith in the unknown

Daini reflected, “True faith is to follow the tiniest light in the deepest of dark, trusting that it will guide you to safety.” For some, faith is an assurance that things will work out, even during the worst of times. For others, it is a religious belief, or perhaps a spiritual awakening, that carries them through their daily encounters and experiences. While the authors in our previous chapter turned to the inner self to sustain their courage, the writers in this chapter rely on faith to light their way.

Valerie Bridgeman Davis surrounds her poem, “The Soul’s Source,” with the words of Thomas Moore: “The soul is its own source of unfolding.” Her piece is about trusting one’s instincts and developing a faith in oneself for answers.

Bridgeman Davis writes, “in your soul are answers / to questions you’ve never asked.”

Also looking within, the voice in Bárbara Renaud González’s “La Diosa” delves into her worst fears: of love, of writing, of being alive. She pleads to her

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Medium 9781609520786

4. A Gift

Peter Wortsman Travelers' Tales ePub

A LITTLE PACKAGE ARRIVED IN THIS MORNING’S MAIL that gave me a good deal of delight. It was sent by a corporate lawyer, plump and buttoned-down, very proper-looking in a three-piece suit, who’d approached me to chat over wine and nibbles following the fellows’ presentations at the Academy the other evening. We’d struck up a friendly conversation after discovering our shared fondness for marzipan and those two little cartoon rascals Max and Moritz. The package contained an English translation of the turn-of-the-century cartoonist Wilhelm Busch’s classic compilation of nasty nonsense, popularized in the U.S. as The Katzenjammer Kids, as well as a copy of the nineteenth-century educational children’s classic, Struwwelpeter, the latter translated into English as Slovenly Peter by none other than Mark Twain. Hard to fathom Huck Finn’s confabulator riding the raft of fantasy transplanted from the muddy Mississippi to the Havel and the Spree. Lawyers here apparently still read other things than statutes and legal briefs. Time is not always money in Berlin, sometimes it just ticks.

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Medium 9781574412697

Going Home

Dan E. Burns University of North Texas Press PDF

Going Home

In September, Ben and I marched in the 2008 Alan Ross Texas

Freedom Gay Pride Parade with our church, Cathedral of Hope.

Marchers wore red, blue, green, or yellow shirts, rainbow colors, and the church’s theme, A Rainbow People, reminded me of The

Wizard of Oz.

As Ben and I waited for the parade to start, standing in the shade of a huge old cottonwood tree and sharing a blue snow cone, I thought about how far we had come, and not come. Two decades earlier we began our journey. Me, the Cowardly Lion, kicking holes in the wall and fearful that I was not up to the task of raising a disabled child. Sue, our Tin Man, rusty with grief. Ben, our Scarecrow with a head full of straw. The Yellow Brick Road is an image of the changes taking place in our lives, our journey, the gifts we have received.

Ben is a work in progress. The full force and fury of the autism storm have passed. Like New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, damage is extensive and repair work is underway.

Standing there in the shade, sipping my melting blue snow cone,

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Medium 9781936227068

17. Diversified Interests

Davis, Belva Berrett-Koehler Publishers ePub

• • •

I’m sometimes astonished to remind myself that I grew up in an era before colorization, when not only were television and movies almost exclusively black and white, but the people who starred in them could more accurately be characterized as white and whiter. On the rare occasions that I did see black people on-screen, they were playing sidekicks, servants, or slaves.

Back then—except for films made by pioneering black filmmakers such as Oscar Micheaux—the media gave me no black heroes or heroines, no depictions of black family life, and of course, no black journalists telling the stories of my community.

After I broke through one of those barriers and into the business, I felt obligated to help tear down other obstacles and make way for more people of color, so that we could transform the face of news and entertainment. Over the years, I’ve tried to mentor, support, and encourage dozens of young journalists and performers. But I also tried to advance the cause in a more systematic fashion, starting with my union.

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Medium 9781574411584

Chapter Thirteen: Calling ourselves free

Gloria Feldt with Carol Trickett Jennings University of North Texas Press PDF

I entered the little two-room, donated office in the American Bank building in downtown Odessa, Texas. Gray steel furniture, no windows. But it was downright luxurious compared to the makeshift classrooms in a Catholic parish hall where I had taught Head Start classes.

And a big step up from Patsy Berry’s Midland, Texas, garage full of donated condoms and foam where the agency had gotten its start. I was excited and filled with anticipation and eager to get started.

Staff in the “executive office” consisted of me and Mary, a plump, cheery bookkeeper with big hair and a sign on her desk that read

“Sexretary.” A bright pink and white button on my desk admonished us to “Love Carefully” in those rounded Peter Max letters of the day.

Good advice, I thought.

In my office were two boxes of Dalkon Shield IUDs and a note from my predecessor that I should send them back to the manufacturer and get a refund. Other than that, I was pretty much on my own.

The search committee had hired me the night President Nixon resigned. They must have been distracted, or maybe they were just desperate for someone who was a stable resident of West Texas and would stay in the job for more than a year, which had been the tenure of each of the last three executives. I had no health care or administrative experience. I did have a glowing letter of recommendation from my Head Start boss, Mildred Chaffin, written at her suggestion shortly before she died much too young of breast cancer. This would be pure on-the-job training.

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Medium 9780870818462

5. MOUNTAINS

Kevin Holdsworth University Press of Colorado ePub

Here at the inlet cove of a high mountain lake,

the water is lined with boulders perfectly placed,

lily pads smiling and three clear hues shining in

morning light:

an ebony ess along this leftward shore,

deep, flagrant blue toward the center,

white sun-catching ripples at the eastern edge—

a fetching body of water pocketed by slopes

of golden meadow grasses gone to seed,

spiked with bright lemony clumps of

arctic willow

and crimson studs of Salix planifolia,

and backed by dark forests of spruce and fir

that sweep to timberline, with sheep slopes

above,

sharp ridges, steps, buttresses, cliffs, and

gendarmes

leading up to turrety peaks that scratch

against the almost flawless sky—marred only by

three thin mare’s tails of high-stretched cirrus,

and that’s not all of it.

Call it perfect if you will.

I do and nearly gasp,

reach for a camera, think better of it,

knowing how a shutter’s snap diminishes

and sensing, too, in cirrus

that this whole September scene

is just about to change

Tomorrow the wind will shift

from warm south to raw northwest,

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