#It's a really standard practice back in my home region like I grew up around a lot of equine pokemon. So I have a lot of info in that field

[the-real-pokerider]

Tho jokes aside you should actually put some faith in your ride pokemon while riding, but you also have to know when they're wrong and need correction, because they're not always going to know what they're doing. The ride pokemon that seem like they do typically have really strong bonds with their trainers and are likely incredibly well trained.

[calciopics]

Kylian Mbappé is Born to Run

The France forward grew up in the suburbs of Paris, steeped in the culture of football. At 22, the World Cup-winner is already a global superstar, and only now entering his prime. Will Euro 2020 be the moment when he overtakes Messi and Ronaldo to become recognised as the best player on the planet?

Kylian Mbappé was 18 when he walked into the changing room of the French national team. “It’s very difficult,” he recalls, “because great players don’t want to give you their place. That’s what makes them great players. They especially don’t want to give you their place if you arrive with the label of ‘Future Great Player’.” Within a year, Mbappé and France had won the World Cup in Moscow.

Three years on, we are talking in a room of his mansion in the leafy, old-money streets of Neuilly, just outside Paris. It isn’t even his home; he bought it to house his foundation, which offers after-school activities to rich and poor children alike. In conversation, Mbappé resembles a veteran TV presenter more than a young footballer. He makes short speeches in complete sentences, as precise in his footing as he is on the field. He sits as straight-backed as he runs. His expressive face keeps breaking into smiles: he likes talking, and is almost unburdened by the usual footballer’s fear of saying the wrong thing.

His burly father Wilfried sits beside us, but only once during the interview will he feel impelled to intervene. Meeting Mbappé, you come to understand how he hit football seemingly already fully formed. At 22, he has achieved more than most great players ever do. Can he take one more step and become the world’s best footballer?

His story starts 10 miles and a universe away from where we’re sitting today. His hometown, Bondy, is a multicultural suburb just northeast of Paris that looks as if someone plonked a Soviet town on top of an ancient French village. The old church is surrounded by fast-food joints and fading 1960s’ apartment blocks, one of them now adorned with a giant mural of Mbappé.

His parents grew up in Bondy: Wilfried, of Cameroonian origin, and Mbappé’s mother Fayza, of Algerian descent. Mixed marriages are common in the Parisian suburbs, the banlieues, but the couple did have to defy some local disapproval.

If a wannabe footballer had to choose the ideal place on earth to grow up, it might have been the Mbappé home in Bondy. Mbappé’s father and uncle were both football coaches, and Fayza, who ran after-school activities, played handball in the French first division. His parents had adopted an older boy, Jirès Kembo Ekoko, who went on to make a long career as a journeyman professional footballer. “I didn’t bring a new passion into the family,” Mbappé says with understatement.

He grew up practically inside the local football club, AS Bondy. “In the Parisian suburbs there are football fields everywhere,” he enthuses. “People here live for football. I was born with the sports ground facing my window.” It’s no wonder, he adds, that Paris’s suburbs are perhaps the deepest talent pool in global football, producing players such as Paul Pogba, Blaise Matuidi, N’Golo Kanté and Riyad Mahrez.

As a non-white kid from the suburbs, did Mbappé always feel accepted as French before he became a French icon? “I’ve always felt French. I don’t renounce my origins, because they are part of who I am, but I’ve made my whole life in France, and never at any moment was I made to feel I wasn’t at home here.” In the banlieues, he says, “We have a love of France because France has given to us and we try to give back to it.”

Mbappé’s parents made him take school seriously, and he was also a not-very-talented flautist at Bondy’s conservatory, but football came first. At AS Bondy, he says, “My father was my coach for 10 years. He helped construct the style of player I wanted to become. But I never felt the pressure of, ‘You have to become a footballer.’ Above all, it was a passion.”

Tagging along with his dad and uncle on their coaching jobs, the child acquired an unusual gift: he became a footballer who thinks like a coach. “Very young, I was always in the changing rooms, listening to the tactical talks and the different points of view, because football is made up of different viewpoints. I learned to have this tolerance, and I think it helped me, because being a coach is putting yourself in somebody else’s place. I think I have the gift of doing that. It helps in football, because if you’re a player, generally you think about yourself, about your own career. I can see, for instance, when something in a game is frustrating a team-mate. I can put him at ease.”

When you’re in the World Cup final, you’re convinced you’re going to win. You walk onto the field, the trophy is there, and you tell yourself it is impossible the other team will take it

Mbappé turned out to be that perfect sporting combination: a natural who is coachable. “He assimilates advice quickly. You ask him something once, and the second time he does it,” Antonio Riccardi, his former youth coach at AS Bondy, told me. Even as a child, Mbappé was an efficient footballer: decisive, never just decorative.

By adolescence, he was being courted by the big European clubs, which all keep close tabs on the Paris region. He visited Chelsea, and celebrated his 14th birthday at Real Madrid, which cannily found him the perfect babysitter: the club’s then assistant coach Zinedine Zidane, the greatest French footballer. When Zidane offered Mbappé a lift in his fabulous car, the overawed child offered to take his shoes off first.

The Mbappés sifted the countless offers and chose Monaco, where the route to the first team looked shortest. Mbappé arrived there, he says, “with my [footballing] baggage well filled.”

Kids in performance-sports families learn that they never arrive. Each step up is just another learning opportunity. In Monaco’s first team, the teenaged Mbappé encountered the veteran Colombian striker Radamel Falcao, freshly returned from unhappy loan spells with Manchester United and Chelsea.

“He was a star,” says Mbappé, “but he had a desire to transmit. He was like a teacher to me. He’s someone who always wants to score, but he left me the space to express myself. He’s very cool in front of goal, calm in his game, and he transmitted this serenity that I didn’t have, because I was young, excited and wanted to go at 2,000 kilometres an hour.”

The kid who didn’t yet have a driving licence scored 15 league goals in his first professional season to help Monaco win the French title in 2017. He added six more in the Champions League knockout rounds. He also passed his baccalauréat, France’s equivalent of A-levels.

Mbappé marvelled at the tension on the faces of other professionals, because he didn’t feel it himself. Everything came easily to him, without great sacrifice, he has said. When I ask about stress in a profession of hypercompetitive men, he shrugs: “Daily life is easy.”

His vertical ascent didn’t surprise him; it just happened a bit quicker than he’d expected. But others were stunned. Here was something new: an 18-year-old complete forward. Built like an Olympic sprinter, Mbappé ran upright, looking around him. He could dribble, cross and shoot. He was more advanced than Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo had been at 18.

How does he describe his style? “The modern attacker who can play anywhere,” he replies. He explains that forwards used to be specialists: “There’d be a number nine, or number 11, or number seven.” Mbappé, though, is the all-in-one. “I think my CV can speak for me. I’ve played alone up front, I’ve played on the left and the right. In all humility, I don’t think it’s given to everyone to change position like that every year and keep a certain standard of performance at the highest level. That didn’t fall from heaven. If I speak of the baggage given me in my teens, it’s all there.”

In one regard he has always been unequalled: the counterattack at speed. He says, “I’ve managed to work on my weak points but above all to perfect my strong points, because I was always told that it’s through your strong points that you’ll exist.”

In March 2017, Mbappé became the youngest player in 62 years to debut for France. Five months later, his hometown club Paris Saint-Germain agreed to sign him for a fee of £166m. He drew on his childhood experiences to navigate two alpha-male changing-rooms. At PSG, his good English and Spanish helped him deal with foreign team-mates. With Les Bleus, France’s assistant coach Guy Stéphan told Mbappé’s biographer Arnaud Hermant: “He knows the codes of the changing room. At table or in the bus, he doesn’t just sit somewhere randomly. For a youngster, he isn’t timid or introverted. He expresses himself.”

By summer 2018, picked for the World Cup in Russia, Mbappé was comfortable enough to claim the blue number 10 shirt — previously worn by Zidane and Michel Platini — and to say in public that he was gunning for the trophy.

“I went to play the matches calmly like I always have. I didn’t want to change just because it was the World Cup,” he says. “We were lucky to have a young squad. We were totally carefree, just a band of mates.”

Hang on, surely a football team isn’t really a band of mates? “No,” he acknowledges. “Just like the baker doesn’t get on with all bakers. You don’t have to eat with your team-mates every evening to win.”

In the World Cup round of 16, his two goals and a 37kmph gallop through Argentina’s defence made his global name. The night before the final against Croatia, he admits, “I was a bit stressed. I didn’t manage to sleep much. But the nearer the match came, the less stressed I was.” Before kick-off he was joking in the changing room. Stéphan recalls: “He experienced the final as if it were a PSG-Dijon game.”

Mbappé says, “When you’re in the World Cup final, you’re convinced that you’re going to win. Even the Croats were convinced they were going to win. You walk onto the field and the trophy is there, between the two teams, and you tell yourself it’s impossible that the other team will take it. That’s why there’s such disappointment afterwards if you don’t win.”

Half of Bondy gathered in front of a giant screen to cheer on the commune’s own “Kylian national”. Scoring in France’s 4–2 victory, he seemed to have reached his career apogee aged 19. He didn’t see it like that. Interviewed the night of the final, he described winning the World Cup as “already good” but only a start.

The next day, as the Bleus’ bus edged along a packed, ecstatic Champs-Élysées, writes Hermant, the ice-cold kid mused to the French Football Federation’s president Noël Le Graët: “Was all this really necessary?”

Mbappé explains now: “For me, it wasn’t an outcome, a finality. I don’t think of that trophy now at all. I don’t look at pictures of the World Cup before going to sleep. Honestly, it’s people on the street who come up and say, ‘You’re world champion, merci, merci.’”

He understood that his early triumph had upset football’s all-important hierarchies. Returning to PSG, he immediately reassured Paris’s Brazilian star Neymar: “I’m not going to walk on your flowerbeds. I’ll be a candidate for the Ballon d’Or [the award for world’s best footballer] this year because you won’t be, but I promise I don’t want to take your place.”

Soon after, he took the World Cup trophy to Bondy, where thousands came out to greet him. “It was a way to say, ‘Thank you.’ I’ve never forgotten which soup I have eaten. So it was important for me to return there after my first World Cup and first international title.” (Note that word, “first”.)

France’s coach, Didier Deschamps, recalls falling into “physical and moral apathy” the season after he lifted the World Cup as a player in 1998. Did Mbappé experience a hangover? He grins: “I finished as best player in the league, highest scorer, best young player, I was chosen in the team of the season, and we won the league.”

Winning the World Cup made Mbappé a national hero. Does he consider himself a star? “I think so. If your face is everywhere in the city, everywhere in the world, that’s for sure. Being a star is a status, but it doesn’t make me a better person than others.”

He lives like a luxury prisoner, who cannot leave home without being mobbed. “It takes an organisation just to go out,” he says. He has joked that when his future children ask him about his youthful adventures, he won’t have any.

“A fan gives you enormous love,” says Mbappé carefully, “but sometimes maybe an excess of love, and he might not respect your intimacy. We give our lives to the people, because we give them pleasure every three days, and we give them our time. It’s impossible to hope for a normal life, but just a little respect for one’s private life isn’t too much to ask for, I think.”

As a young man of non-white origins, he has a particular vulnerability with the French public, one-third of whom voted for the far-right candidate Marine Le Pen in the run-off of the presidential elections in 2017. Even so, he has begun to speak out against police violence.

“I took time to start talking about it, because I wasn’t ready,” he admits. “I had a lot of things to digest: my change of status, my new life. But I have always opposed all types of violence.”

When I note that French police violence is disproportionately directed against people of non-white origins from suburbs like Bondy, his father stirs from his silence: “We’re not answering that. You’re orienting it as if the violence were only against people from the banlieues, which is false.”

In high-level football, nobody will make a place for you. Ego, self-love, isn’t just the caprice of stars. It’s also the will to give the best of yourself

French fans like their stars humble. Mbappé has explained “the French mentality” to Neymar, who favours a bling-bling, poker-playing party lifestyle. Mbappé says, “In Brazil, they are more festive, in France more serious. Here it’s not considered good to display your passions. People will think he’s neglecting PSG because he plays poker. I think he has begun to understand that. At first it was hard for him because he experienced it as an affront. When he arrived, they put his face on the Eiffel Tower, and six months later they’re asking him why he’s playing poker. In France, people know what you have but they don’t want to see it. They just want to see you playing football, smiling.”

But Mbappé believes humility isn’t enough. He thinks great footballers need big egos. “In high-level football, nobody will make a place for you or tell you that you’re capable of things. It’s up to you to persuade yourself that you are. Ego, self-love, isn’t just a caprice of stars. It’s also the will to surpass yourself, to give the best of yourself.” Every time he walks onto the field, he says, he tells himself, “I’m the best.”

In truth, he knows he isn’t the best — Messi and Ronaldo are better. “It’s not only me who knows that,” he laughs. “Everyone knows it. If you tell yourself that you’ll do better than them, it’s beyond ego or determination — it’s lack of awareness. Those players are incomparable. They have broken all laws of statistics. They have had 10 extraordinary years, 15.”

Still, he admits: “You do always compare yourself with the best in your sport, just as the baker compares himself with the best bakers around him. Who makes the best croissant, the best pain au chocolat? I watch matches of other great players to see what they’re doing. ‘I know how to do this, but can the other guy do it too?’ I think other players watch me, too. I think that pushes players to raise their game, just as Messi was good for Ronaldo and Ronaldo was good for Messi.”

Does Mbappé compare himself with the other great forward of his generation, Borussia Dortmund’s Norwegian Erling Braut Haaland? Mbappé’s reply sounds a touch patronising: “It’s his second year, we’re getting to know him. It’s the start for him. I’m happy for him, for what he’s doing.”

The more you become an important person, the more duties you have. I’m no longer the little kid. I’m Kylian Mbappé

In this elite individual competition, the top spot may be coming free. Messi (34 this month) and Ronaldo (36) are “nearer the end than the beginning”, acknowledges Mbappé. In February, his hat-trick helped PSG thrash Messi’s Barcelona 1–4 at the Camp Nou. “The best match of my career,” Mbappé says, “because it was complete. I helped my team both offensively and defensively, and I succeeded in the creation and finishing of my moves, in one-against-ones. I won 90 per cent of my duels, if that stat is correct. All match, I never had a moment when I felt extinguished.” He then scored two at Bayern Munich, before PSG fell to Manchester City.

Some opposing teams now rearrange their entire tactical systems to combat the Mbappé counterattack. “There are quite a few anti-Kylian plans every match,” he says. “It means I’ve been recognised as a great player. It requires you to have multiple strings to your bow. I like that, because I adore challenges.”

Surely he’s now too big a player for the French league? He umms and aws: “France isn’t the best championship in the world, but it’s my responsibility, as a flagship player, to help the league grow.” Yet he may well leave this summer, to Real Madrid or England. The decision, perhaps the biggest he’ll face in his career, will be made inside his family. Almost uniquely for a star footballer, Mbappé doesn’t have an agent, just lawyers.

At 22, he considers himself an experienced footballer. He says he and Neymar “are now the two natural leaders” of PSG. When he kicks off the delayed Euro 2020 with France in June, it will be with more responsibility than at the World Cup. “The more you become an important personality, the more duties you have. I’m no longer the little kid. I’m Kylian Mbappé.”

Kylian Mbappé’s prime may have already arrived. Fast strikers usually peak between 20 and 24. A Euro and a World Cup within 18 months, while France’s generation of 2018 remains almost intact, may be his best chance to make football history. What are his career ambitions? That smile again: “To win everything.” (Esquire Magazine)

[felassan]

Article: ‘The Most Powerful Woman in Gaming Wants to Make EA Loved Again’

Laura Miele is helping direct the company toward a future where it’s more attuned with consumers.

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

[rest of article under cut for length, pasted as Bloomberg has an article read limit]

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

It’s something many gamers have wondered about EA for years. The $40 billion company, one of the biggest in gaming, is responsible for Battlefield, Madden NFL, and other megahit franchises. But many gamers have long seen EA as a necessary evil, resenting the direction in which it took some games and bristling at its aggressive attempts to extract money by charging extra for digital items in games that cost as much as $70 upfront. This dissatisfaction was no secret in 2018: Gamers spent their days filling up Reddit and other message boards with free advice for EA—but many felt its decision-makers weren’t listening.

EA’s leadership knows it has to improve that relationship, and Miele is a key player in its efforts to do so. Her focus group asked for new content for Star Wars Battlefront II and requested new types of games. Miele quickly assigned 70 people to the Battlefront development project, which dramatically improved its net promoter score, a measure of how likely people are to recommend the game. She also prompted EA to create a skateboarding game and committed to reintroducing its college football franchise, the two genres at the top of the influencers’ list.

In a sense, the guy at the meeting became a stand-in for all of EA’s long-suffering customers in Miele’s eyes. “I wanted to do right by this player,” she says.

As chief studios officer, Miele manages 6,000 staffers and thousands of contractors globally. She oversees EA’s 24 studios, where she makes personnel decisions and sets strategy, and she’s reshaped how the company uses analytics to create and market its games.

In the process she may have become the most powerful woman in gaming. In a 2019 International Game Developers Association survey, fewer than 30% of the more than 1,100 respondents were women, and few if any hold a more central role at such an important company. “It’s a tough place for a woman,” says Peter Moore, who was Miele’s boss when he was EA’s chief operating officer. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but she battled her way through.”

Proving good intentions is more important for EA than ever, as the business model of gaming continues to shift in ways that have the potential to alienate customers. Like its rivals, the company is increasing its focus on free-to-play games, making money through sales of digital products such as outfits and weapons for characters.

There are signs it’s succeeding. Apex Legends, EA’s free-to-play hero shooter game, has posted more than $1 billion in sales since it was first published in 2019, and it continues to grow. “The way to succeed with free-to-play games like that is to listen to and engage your customer base and earn their loyalty through incremental purchases,” says Doug Clinton, managing partner of the venture capital firm Loup Ventures, who says Miele deserves much of the credit for Apex Legends. “It feels like a proof point for her that the company is adapting well beyond traditional disk sales.”

Miele, 51, was born in San Francisco but grew up on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. She got her start in games—the kind that require a board—during family nights, when she pitted herself against her brother in Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, and backgammon. While attending the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, she worked at architectural companies. By the time she dropped out she’d moved on from receptionist positions to more senior roles, while gaining a reputation for organizing lunch-hour card games with her co-workers.

Miele landed a job as a project manager at Westwood Studios, a video game developer best known for Command and Conquer, in 1996. She eventually took over all marketing for its parent company, Virgin Interactive.

It wasn’t always a hospitable atmosphere: Miele remembers her colleagues expecting her to take notes at meetings, then clean up afterward. “That is just not something I would do today,” she says. “I adapted a lot because I was so passionate about what I was doing. I found my voice along the way.”

When EA acquired Westwood in 1998, she stayed on. At the time, the company did revenue forecasting by looking at sales data once a month and putting together spreadsheets by hand. Miele was tasked with developing more advanced analytics. She hired a group of data analysts, nicknamed “the Jedi,” and had them build EA’s first statistical regression models to examine sales trends, seasonality, and preorders. It took almost two years to put the system in place, but it overhauled the company’s business processes, and executives were soon using it to determine how to invest in advertising and promotions. “I loved how data and analytics can inform your judgment and your gut instinct,” Miele says.

Miele also decided to make one major break with EA’s existing business practices. In 2011 about 80% of game advertising budgets were spent on TV ads. But she saw how much time gamers spent online and decided to spend the bulk of the ad budget for Battlefield 3 on digital, downplaying other types of ads and cutting the TV ad budget to only 30%.

Messing around with the plan for Battlefield 3 was a good way to make people nervous. Miele remembers two executives calling her in for a meeting and demanding to know why they weren’t seeing billboards for the game as they drove in to the office. “It was scary for me, too, and I don’t blame our executives questioning me on that,” she says. But the game ended up being EA’s fastest-selling, moving more than 5 million copies in its first week. From that point, Miele’s marketing strategy became the standard for the company.

When EA signed a 10-year deal with Walt Disney Co. in 2013, Miele became Star Wars general manager. In 2014 she took over publishing operations, marketing, and other key areas, first in the North American region, then globally in 2016. At the time, the game industry was moving from physical disks to digital downloads, transforming its relationship with retail partners such as Walmart Inc. and Best Buy Co.

Miele was in charge of smoothing things over, explaining that EA would start competing with them for customers even as the retailers accounted for the largest portion of the revenue. “I never said to them, ‘Hey, see you later, we are moving on,’ ” she says. “It was, ‘How can we move forward together?’ ” EA began making physical cards with digital credits that its retail partners could sell at their stores, allowing them to share in the revenue from digital sales.

EA’s studios are spread around the globe, and Covid-19 altered Miele’s routine radically. “It was a very difficult year, and I’m really proud about how our company showed up,” she says. “I considered myself a wartime leader last year. You had to get in a bunker with everybody.”

Days became an endless progression of Zoom calls. To keep up with gamers, Miele started spending evenings listening to Clubhouse chats while answering work emails. Because she hasn’t been on the road, she’s also had more time to dine at home and play board games or Apex Legends and The Sims with her 16-year-old twins. As the pandemic retreats in the U.S., her schedule might change, but she still envisions providing more flexibility to her employees to work from home and office. “I do think we’re going to have a different work environment as we go forward,” she says.

Miele is itching to get back to the studio visits. She’s helping steer EA further toward smartphones. The company plans to release mobile versions of Apex Legends globally this year and spent $2.1 billion in April for Glu Mobile Inc., a mobile game publisher, while also preparing the next releases in its existing franchises. “I think the next Battlefield and the mobile shooter games, along with how successful the M&As come out will be key litmus tests of her management this year,” says Matt Kanterman, an analyst with Bloomberg Intelligence. “Her scope is clearly rising.”

— With Dina Bass and Jason Schreier

[source]

[haleviyah]

A Hispanic/ Latino Perspective: Border Clarification

This is one of the rare times I’m going to get somewhat political here, but these comments spread by the media are hitting to way close to home for me, so here I go.

Before you pounce on me, let me explain this: I am a moderate. I favor no sides, I don’t treat people by their titles but rather I prefer to judge by character even though I am not the best at it, admittedly. I favour and respect those who keep their word and own their mistakes. In short, if you do what you promise to do, you have my approval whereas if not, you will bear the brunt of my blunt rebukes and sarcastic remarks.

I am also from South Texas, specifically the Rio Grande Valley, and am a descendent of two humble Mexican families who since the Mexican Border War have made Texas their great escape and home.

Bit of a geographical reference, if you don’t know here where the Rio Grande Valley is. Look at the state of Texas, there is a bulge of state going in each direction that makes it look like a fat, lower-case ”t” : El Paso is the most West of the state, the Panhandle (Amarillo) the Northmost, Texarkana the most Eastward followed by Houston, and WAAAAAAY at the bottom is Brownsville and the Southernmost tip of Texas.

And for those of you too lazy to Google or "DuckDuckGo" the map yourself I've attached it:

The four counties: Hidalgo, Cameron, Starr and Willacy county make up the Rio Grande Valley. This is the region I grew up, the place where I experienced the best of a community and the worst of politics and failed promises.

For a bit of background: I have a parent working on the Border and they have been for many years (since I was a kid). Pretty much worked from a security officer to trooper within the span of a decade which is quite impressive and rare considering they never took bribes or anything to get where they were currently. They have told me off and on what their job is like. It’s crazy and boring some days, but also they have admitted somethings that may be fascinating. One of which is, yes, they do own horses and the reason why is so the Troopers can maneuver around tough terrain vehicles cannot go through (such as high water or narrow foot paths in brush). HOWEVER, they DO NOT OWN WHIPS. They don’t even own lassos, according to my Border Agent parent.

The only weapons agents on horse back have is a Glock, ammo, a taser, cuffs, and sometimes shot guns (but they prefer to carry light for the horses and themselves to be more flexible). They mainly carry items that would slow a person down or prevent them from hurting other people, officer or civilian; not for killing. So a whip is absolutely redundant or even absurd to have.

Those long ropes the Troopers are holding are called reins, and they are designed for steering a horse (horses cannot move opposite of the direction of their head; where their head is pointed they move in that direction). They are not made for whipping people, but rather made to get the horse’s attention. That’s it.

I took the liberty of highlighting the reins in red for you all as well as their arms and legs in blue and yellow in contrast to the reins and saddle.

It's clear from a Texan's or horse-riders perspective this Trooper almost fell off catching the other fellow and was holding onto the left rein for dear life hence why the horse looked distressed and its cheek was pulled back.

I'm not joking, you fucking try it if you're so damn horse-smart.

Now, let's look at a more relaxed position.

In short, if you haven't ridden a horse, I advise to keep your comments to yourself on this part. I have and it's way harder than it looks (horses can get cocky).

Second thing, the migrants.

Personally, I don’t know why they were so squirrelly that day. Perhaps they were spooked because they’ve never expected horse back riders to show up, maybe they had some bad experiences back home.

I don’t know!

But it’s clear there appears to be a lack of communication. Perhaps it’s the language barrier given that these guys came from Haiti, African countries and Brazil. English they probably know, but they probably don’t speak a lick of Spanish (Which both languages are mandatory for the Border Patrol).

(Again, I don't know...)

So the reasons why they started running circles around the Troopers’ horses is not for me to speculate, it’s not for YOU to defend blindly, nor is it up for the media to interpret and evangelize.

That should be left to the people to explain. No one else.

(Update: September 29th. I received a tip from a source that the Haitian immigrants (mainly) are not running from anything, they aren’t seeking asylum nor were in poverty as the media claims. They have admitted upon interview they were what we consider middle-low class and had no issues finding jobs before they decided to migrate northward. They’re just coming because they were told to come by “you-know-who”… that’s all. I know, I’m taken aback and scratching my head, too… but anyway. I digress, but do take note.)

Now, another bit of feedback I want to share: When it comes to dealing with Troopers (again, must I remind you this is a Border Patrol agent’s kid speaking), big rule:

DO NOT RUN nor MAKE THREATENING MOVEMENTS. Be calm.

It’s a simple rule, if you’re cool with the Troopers they’ll be cool with you. That’s it. Please respectfully keep in mind, these guys are trained to be safe rather than sorry. So patience and understanding with them is a must. Trust me, I’ve met my parent’s co-workers, they may look stoic and scary or condescending, but they can not let personal emotions interfere their work otherwise they risk safety.

They’re not “paranoid” or “harsh” they just have a job they cannot afford to fuck up otherwise the whole region is FUCKED. They’re the front line of defense, and do keep that in mind.

(Another footnote: I have seen Border Patrol offices, and without giving away how they function it’s not like CIA or Langley level of clean or fancy, so don’t think their offices are high tech and have marble floors with comfy lounges that cost a lot of money. Upon first glance you won’t expect the building to be an office. Border Patrol work with what they have available which isn’t a lot thanks to the ’00, ’04, ’08, ’12 and current administrations. That’s all I can give out.)

I’m going to come clean here and say the citizens in the Rio Grande Valley and the rest of Texas DO NOT FEEL SAFE with a border this wide open and no regulation is applied. Especially the Hispanic/Latino communities. So the pressure is on - and I mean REALLY on! Despite these guys working the Border are overwhelmed, they keep those emotions and opinions on lockdown when on the field. Like I said: If they fuck up, the region is fucked.

Bit of a history lesson: the Border issues on the Rio Grande are not new. Matter of factly, this problem has been happening for decades (The popular peak was during the 80s when cocaine was being distributed), but it was more than just cocaine and pot: Kids were going missing, people getting killed, women were used as mules and sold for sex, etc.

If you watched “Narcos” or “Sicario” you have a brief, dramatized taste of how the cartels function and what life is like for us Latinos. However, coming from someone who grew up there, the parts of watching your back, the abductions and even the gruesome murders are legit. To this day I remember seeing local news coverage (not CNN or MSNBC, our own stations down in the McAllen/Brownsville area) of beheadings, child murders and bodies being found in pieces… It’s something I hope my children won’t have to grow up hearing almost weekly like I did. Now it’s daily… and no one cares. And that hurts.

In the grand scheme of things, at least know this: South Texas has been part of the Cartel battle grounds and it’s obvious we’ve seen shit. Constantly being ignored is the payment we get for being front lines in the Drug War. So don’t blame us for being jumpy, or skeptical, nor even try convince us that the current surplus of immigrants is a good thing.

You can’t argue with our own experiences and history. The way things work down here is simple: You fight along side us, we fight along side you.

It’s called building trust, practicing faith. But we’ve been forgotten and lied to too many times by celebrities and politicians and social movements alike. And those who actually were going to help us are either shut down or unfortunately killed.

We just can’t trust anyone anymore. We are resorting to fending for ourselves basically, speaking up for ourselves… and so far it’s making progress in the mean time.

This level of “doing things on your own” bleeds into why our Troopers are trained they way they are trained - to expect the worst case scenario. To prepare themselves for the corpses, when a criminal pounces, the drugs being hid, for when they find a child with an adult they don’t know, or even a woman who was violated. They just genuinely don’t want to take chances and you just read why. Even my in-laws up in the Northern Midwest are disturbed.

So, considering the case of what happened a few days ago in Del Rio, Texas (as of writing this on September 25th 2021): If you run from a Trooper the first thing they are going to think is either two things:

You did something bad upon coming in to the country or

You don’t want your former government to find you because you did crimes in your home country or the country you were hiding in.

This is protocol, not biased opinions.

If, however, a Trooper commits any form of irresponsibility (such as abusing their power, unreasonable search and seizures etc.) it’s “kiss your badge good-bye” and DEMOTED or FIRED. The stakes of keeping your job in the Border Patrol are HIGH, so they are trained not to act out of line. Even a minor slip up in paper work from being fatigued gets you in SEVERE trouble with the Higher Ups and the County (Yes, that does happen and has happened). But you have to KNOW Border Patrol standards before you accuse them of anything.

With that being said, what’s floating around is not a constructive argument; it’s a distraction. How the public is demanding the trooper in the photo to be fired, tells us Latinos loud and clear that - once again - no one cares about our livelihood; no one is willing to brave enough to face the real hell going on. We are ignored or low-key demonized for simply defending ourselves.

(Now, you guys are seeing why I relate to my Jewish husband and the Israeli’ citizens - Arab and Jew - more; we’re pretty much in the same boat in the case of being ignored. But I digress.)

Before I come to a conclusion, here are other demographic facts to keep in mind that way it’ll help draw conclusions:

86.6% of the Border Patrol is HISPANIC/LATINO in the State of Texas alone.

A majority of children stolen from their families or molested are HISPANIC/LATINO.

A majority of the women violated immigrants on the border are mainly HISPANIC/LATINO.

Latin America collectively (Mexico down to Colombia and Venezuela) has the highest rates of femicide in the world.

So for you or anyone to get angry at Border Patrol agents in an unjust manner, not only are you getting mad at Hispanics and Latinos in UNIFORM for fighting to keep their communities safe, but you are actively contributing to the hell our families go through every day.

When you protest in demand for our cops or even troopers to be defunded, and fired for petty things, YOU are actively contributing to the problem of human trafficking, rape, kidnappings and murder that happens on the border. You are contributing to the Hispanic and Latino communities being dismantled and disintegrated by people who potentially want to kill us or hate us for money’s sake.

Take all of that into consideration before you get angry at anyone here.

In short:

I’ll only consider the accusations if you yourselves have been there and know the burdens we bear.

I’ll only consider your judgement if you genuinely are in law enforcement and know how to ride a horse and try to stop someone from running while riding the beast.

I’ll only consider your feedback if you don’t rely heavily on news like CNN, Telemundo and Tumblr for your information.

Until you grab a gun and fight the cartel yourself, and figure out a way to end this war on human trafficking, don’t come to us Latinos and express that you care and appreciate us.

Because frankly if you GENUINELY did, you’d bring to light what I just said and be slamming the desks at D.C. and DEMANDING the Border to be CLOSED by now.

Regardless of your political and personal beliefs, this is what is REALLY going on, and we’re going to keep fighting. Like the Israeli’s we don’t give a fuck if you hate us. We’re not radicals, we’re not blood-thirsty heathens, we’re not white supremacists (80+% of our population is of Latino Mexican descent) we’re just fed up with running away and being taken advantage of or taken for granted by people who value money over the lives of our neighbors.

If this were California, fine! Rail all you want, cuss us out as much as you want; hold us to those to California standards you keep yourself. But we’re not California.

We’re not D.C., nor Chicago, nor L.A., or New York, Florida, Canada, Mexico or whatever. We are SOUTH TEXAS so treat us as SOUTH TEXAS.

Honor us for who we are and hold us to the standards of what is SOUTH TEXAS, what is The United States Constitution, and the Texas Constitution; nothing more and nothing less. Don’t tear us down for what we’re not nor hold us accountable to an opinion or law we never agreed to nor knew existed.

That’s all I ask: If you’re not willing to honour our community and help us while holding us to our standards on a cultural, State or Federal level, back the fuck off. Generations we’ve dealt with the pressure from both the cartel and corrupt government from both the U.S. and Mexico, and the last thing we need is pampered kids living in the high rises or going to university on loans from school or your parents' paychecks, telling us how to deal with our issues.

You are FAR from a place to tell us how to function and resolve our war.

I’m not trying nor want to start a fight or otherwise, but I’m simply, humbly asking: when did we ever genuinely ask you “social justice advocates” to be our hero?

When did we ever ask you to fight for us or talk about what you think is wrong with us? Because last I checked we don’t want to drag anyone into our battles.

Also, we only know one messiah, but we never asked you to be him nor for him to act like you.

Did you start throwing punches because you wanted to find something to excuse your anger and outbursts, or is your good intentions married with ignorance?

Either case… it’s extremely unhealthy of you, and please just stop before another person gets hurt. We don’t want that. This is no different from the Crusades our ancestors took part in, and it will only end in more carnage than already sown.

So, just please, stop and take a step back for a moment. We don’t need anymore vehement evangelical-like people who just think with their ideals and not take a moment to have a healthy discussion with the One who created us, or let alone divorce their lust for a fight for ten seconds.

To close this off, even though I haven’t been home in a while, I know the spirit and the struggles the Rio Grande Valley goes through. I have met people on the run from the cartel first hand, and I have met people who may have ties with the cartel. I have seen some creepy shit, I have grown frustrated over the Protestant Baptist church doing nothing, and I have even been feeling the pressure my parent goes through with these apathetic riots threatening their job as a Border Patrol agent.

But aside from the pain, I am tremendously blessed that people and my family are still very optimistic despite the craziness and how bleak things are.

The family-oriented culture of the Rio Grande Valley is what is keeping it together… not trends, not clout and neither these guys in D.C. or Hollywood who are playing G-d.

It's the family-oriented connection. Our faith, that's keeping us going.

And even though I may not be the best voice of that region to speak up, I am blessed to have been there and I do plan on coming back soon.

I am planning on giving a more fun journal featuring the culture of the Rio Grande Valley in the future to finish this month off, but for the sake of this “Hispanic Heritage Month” I wanted to share our REAL issues we deal with rather than the made up ones that media likes to mainstream for money and clout.

In a way, I hope this offers clarity and a level of empathy. Again, I’m not sharing this to start fights or get sympathy - we don’t want it. We just want to know if our fights are not ignored, we just want to know we are heard.

That’s all.

[iamtrishski]

What Dreams May Come

This story is a one-shot fic that centers around my take on Prince Sigegar's first impression of Kanisa during the events of the Glacier's Forge arc by @ridersoftheapocalypse.

This is my FIRST-EVER attempt at writing any kind of fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: some of the events in this fic, including the explicit sexy times, are based on artwork by @s-kinnaly.

Characters in the story are the creation of the brilliant minds of @ridersoftheapocalypse, @mrneighbourlove, and @s-kinnaly.

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Ever since Sigegar laid eyes on Kanisa, the eldest son of Uskar’s High King Torbjorn and his queen, Brigritta, could not stop thinking of her. From the very first time she had set foot in the Grand Hall, time seemed to stop all surrounding motion as he gazed at the lovely sight walking past the throng of guests before stopping to greet the High King and Queen.

As he witnessed their exchange of greetings, Sigegar could not help being captivated by the Hyrule princess’s beauty as she introduced her brother and sister-in-law to his parents.

When she spoke, her smile shone radiantly with every word her lips formed and though he couldn’t hear her speak, he imagined her voice to be sweet and gentle.

Kanisa was absolutely gorgeous. The mauve-colored dress she was wearing was plain but accentuated her supple figure perfectly, kissing the curves of her body and boasting a neckline low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Her long and wavy red hair looked soft enough to run his fingers through, and the way her hips swayed with every movement made him weak in the knees.

Kanisa stood at six-foot-five and was taller than most Direnor females by Uskarian standards. She's perfect, Sigegar’s mind whispered to him. The females he had dated were nothing compared to the Hyrule princess, whose red hair and skin color stood out amongst the sea of dark hair and pale blue skin.

Although Kanisa’s skin was a dark olive-brown – a stark contrast to his own – Sigegar still found her breathtaking, especially as her golden eyes marvelled at the beauty of the Grand Hall.

His train of thought, however, was interrupted for a brief second the moment Vidar walked in, arms crossed and looking upset as he moved to stand beside Kanisa.

While Kanisa looked cheerful, Vidar had a rather distant aire about him, a frown plastered on his normally-neutral face. He wondered what had caused the Hersir to display such a pitiful expression. Then again, he didn’t care why. He wasn’t particularly fond of Vidar, considering him inferior and perhaps even weak because he was not of royal blood.

“There you are,” Ragnvald mused to himself as he strode toward his elder brother.

Sigegar appeared to be deep in thought. He had not heard his brother approach but was startled as soon as Ragnvald slapped his shoulder.

“Hey, what was that for?” Sigegar asked, rubbing the area his younger brother had touched then turning to see him smiling.

“Nothing, really. I happened to spot you from across the Hall looking all googly-eyed as soon as Princess Kanisa entered the room."

"I do not make 'googly-eyes'," Sigegar retorted.

"Says you," Ragnvald chortled with a wink.

Sigegar rolled his eyes and snorted, his gaze wandering back to the red-headed beauty.

Ragnvald paused before continuing. "You are aware that she’s married, right?”

“Obviously, if that ring on her finger means anything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look," Sigegar snapped in defense as he crossed his arms in annoyance and observed Kanisa introducing her brother and his wife to Bjarke, Jarl Brynjolf, and Angorn.

The second-born son of the High King and Queen only laughed at his brother’s response. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Ragnvald jested as he put his arm around his brother’s shoulders.

Sigegar glared at his brother. Ragnvald, still smiling, raised both hands in defeat as he chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But don’t stare for too long. You know how aggressive animals can get when it comes to protecting their mates.”

Sigegar shrugged his shoulders knowing very well what his brother meant.

"Who said she needed any protecting? I'm not doing her any harm by just looking."

And dreaming, his mind added.

As the evening progressed, Sigegar grew bored from just watching Kanisa. However, fortune smiled upon him as she excused herself to get a drink at the bar. He took it upon himself to converse with her and made a bee line to where she was with Ragnvald right behind him.

As soon as Vidar caught sight of Sigegar walking toward his wife, he bristled in anger. Vidar was not fond of Sigegar either, recalling the time Angorn nearly drowned because Sigegar made no motion to save him.

Ragnvald, keen on emotion, sensed Vidar's rage as his brother attempted to speak to Kanisa. She turned her head in time to see the rather tall Direnor greet her.

"Hello, Princess Kanisa. It's been a while. How have you been?"

Before she could respond, Sigegar took her hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure.. to meet you," he purred as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles before releasing her hand.

With a blush on her cheeks, Kanisa bowed to the two princes. "It's good to meet you as well, Sigegar. Yes, it has been a while, Ragnvald. Kerugan keeps me busy. Being the mother of a fussy infant can be demanding, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

A smile formed across Kanisa's face as she thought of her baby boy, who was currently at home in the care of Vidar's parents.

Noticing the kiss that Sigegar placed on his sister's hand, Covarog whispered something to his wife then walked over to join the trio.

A loud "ahem" snapped her out of her reverie as she turned to see Covarog standing next to her with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh! Forgive me. This is my elder brother, Covarog, King of Hyrule."

Covarog bowed then eyed both men up and down and expected them to cower, but the three of them were all practically the same height, save for Sigegar, who was three inches shorter.

King or not, Sigegar was the least bit intimidated by the Gerudo male standing in front of him.

Ragnvald extended his hand, and Covarog did the same, as both men exchanged pleasantries. Not wanting to appear rude, Sigegar took Covarog's hand and gripped it in a firm handshake.

Once he felt that neither man was a threat to his sister, Covarog walked back to Zarazu and resumed his mingling.

Kanisa breathed a sigh of relief after her brother left.

"My brother is very protective of me," she apologized as she looked at the brothers. "Moreso now that I no longer live in Hyrule."

"But you have your husband to protect you and your son," Ragnvald stated matter-of-factly.

Kanisa gave him a weak smile. "I suppose you are correct." Uncertainty filled her mind as she reflected on the argument she and Vidar had earlier that day.

Kanisa paused briefly before uttering another apology. "I'm sorry, but I have to get going. Kerugan has difficulty falling asleep when I'm not there."

With that, she bowed and bid the two brothers farewell.

As Sigegar watched her retreating form, he felt a twinge of disappointment.

As the night ended, Sigegar walked back to his home. Opening the door, he took off his furs and set them on an ottoman under the living room window. He took off his boots next, placed them by the foot of the stairs, and proceeded to walk up to his room. Once he entered, he divested himself of his clothes and stared at his reflection in the mirror, marveling at the various battle scars that adorned his arms and chest. With a smirk, he turned and strode toward his bed not bothering to put on any undergarments.

As he lay himself down, Sigegar couldn't help but reflect on the night's events, which he spent mostly watching Kanisa from afar. He recalled Ragnvald mentioning Vidar's name, followed by the slight uncertainty in her response. Then he remembered the expression on Vidar's face as he entered the Grand Hall and stood next to Kanisa.

"You are aware that she's married, right?"

His conscience reprimanded him, echoing the words his brother asked earlier.

He shot back.

"But that doesn't mean I can't look."

Satisfied with his mental response, Sigegar drifted off to sleep. Moments later, the prince tossed and turned, his head moving from side to side.

Though he did not wake, it appeared as if he was dreaming. Beads of sweat began forming on his forehead as the prince's body responded unconsciously to the events in the dream.

Kanisa was naked, a fur blanket obscuring her partially-covered bottom half but revealing her round and pert breasts. They were the perfect size, pliant yet large enough to fit in his hands. Her nipples and areolas were a bit darker than the rest of her skin but were just as enticing.

Standing in front of her, Sigegar made motion to remove his clothing slowly. As he worked on pulling his top off, Kanisa was mesmerized at the sight of his abdominal muscles contracting with every move of his body.

Following the bottom of his shirt, her glance moved up to his pecs, which flexed as his arms removed the last vestiges of his top.

Her cheeks reddened just like they did when she accidentally happened upon her eldest brother in the bath. Fortunately for him, she could only see his top half.

Noticing her flushed cheeks, Sigegar did the same with his trousers. Kanisa stared at him while he tantalizingly unbuttoned them, her eyes following the happy trail leading toward his nether region.

Once his trousers slid down his muscular legs, her eyes went wide, revelling at the sight of his now-hardened manhood.

Sigegar stepped out of his trousers and made his way to Kanisa, grabbing her face tenderly as he gave her lips a heated kiss.

The fur blanket dropped to the floor as they kissed each other with wanton desire, tongues dueling for dominance.

Amidst their steamy liplock, Kanisa grasped his hardened member and began to stroke it.

"Aaahh.. hmmm," Sigegar moaned in his sleep.

"Nngh.. Kanisa," he sighed.

Licking his lips, Sigegar thrashed his head to one side as the dream continued.

Feeling the heat course through his veins, Sigegar kissed Kanisa with more ferver, lifting her and carrying her bridal-style to his bed.

As he gently laid her on the bed, Sigegar began kissing her neck and making his way down her body while his hands fondled her breasts and teased the nipples into hardened peaks. He kissed the valley of her breasts before licking the nipple of one with the tip of his tongue then suckling it. Turning his attention to the other breast, he repeated the same action.

Kanisa moaned as he rained butterfly kisses down her taut body until he reached her womanhood, spreading her legs wide for what was about to happen.

Kneeling between her thighs, Sigegar wasted no time and laved her clit until he felt her legs shake. Using the tip of his tongue once more, he teased her swollen nub by drawing circles around it, repeating the motion several times until her hips began to buck.

With one last lick, Sigegar darted his tongue into her womanhood and wiggled it. When his tongue wasn't inside her, he kept the momentum going by alternating between sucking and licking her clit, feeling his bearded chin drenched in her juices with each strafe of his tongue. He then inserted his middle and ring fingers and crooked them both upward, applying pressure to her G-spot as he moved his hand in and out with a quick and steady motion.

Kanisa moaned loudly, her mouth forming an 'O' as she palmed and squeezed her breasts.

Hearing her moans made Sigegar hard with lust. He stopped what he was doing for a quick moment, stood up, and exchanged places with Kanisa. As he lay on the bed, he motioned for them to assume a sixty-nine position.

Grasping her ass cheeks, he resumed licking her pussy while teasing and sucking her clit. Catching on quickly, Kanisa grabbed his shaft and began to stroke it. Once she put her mouth on his tip and started sucking, Sigegar hissed and inhaled sharply. He tried to continue his ministrations, but her talented mouth assaulted his member sinfully, licking up and down the shaft with the flat of her tongue before laving the sensitive ridges of the engorged mushroom-shaped head.

Kanisa was so focused on what she was doing that Sigegar almost forgot to breathe, grabbing the sheets with his hands and bunching them in his fists. With his heart pounding, he squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath, feeling like he was about to explode.

Before he could do so, he moved out from under Kanisa quickly and knelt behind her. Using one hand, he guided his still-hardened member to her glory hole and rammed himself into her sopping wet entrance. She was very tight and felt amazing as her vaginal walls contracted with every hard thrust.

Sigegar could feel and hear his heavy sac slapping against her womanhood as he concentrated on bringing them both pleasure.

Turning Kanisa on her back, Sigegar re-entered her delicious pussy and continued to thrust into her. As he did, he stared down at the woman currently in the throes of pleasure, her hair fanned around her flushed face.

"Aaah.. ohhh.. hmmm," Kanisa moaned as she raised her hips to meet his thrusts. Grasping her hips tightly, Sigegar pounded into her pussy, slamming into her heavenly sheath repeatedly with brute force.

"Aaahh.." Sigegar groaned. Still asleep, his mind continued to fan his lust with images of Kanisa writhing beneath him.

Gods, she was so damn beautiful.

He was so close to cumming that he sped up his movements until his hips jerked. With one last look at her and a final thrust, he let out a long and loud groan..

Panting heavily, Sigegar snapped open his eyes. He looked around the empty room to find no trace of Kanisa. Frustrated, he rubbed his face with both hands and realized it was all a dream. However, a rather large problem made itself known as it protested against the confines of the fur blanket. Looking down, Sigegar let out a heavy sigh.

"Great, now I have to take care of this," he muttered under his breath.

Sliding the blanket down, he exposed his manhood and ran his hand over his balls then moved his fingers upward to feel the veins covering his shaft.

Once he reached the swollen head, his finger rubbed over the slit, feeling a bead of slippery liquid escape. He closed his eyes then grasped his shaft and started jerking himself slowly.

As images of Kanisa flooded his mind once more, he sped up his movements and concentrated on her face, her eyes boring into his in a lustful daze.

Sigegar began panting as he envisioned himself kissing the nape of her neck, one hand fondling a breast and the other in between her legs. He imagined her moaning relentlessly as she moved her arm backward to grab at his hair.

He could feel the impending explosion as his toes tingled, working its way upward to the base of his spine.

As it neared, Sigegar furiously pumped his manhood, seeking release. The moment he felt it, he heaved his chest upward as warm, white ejaculate sprayed all over his abdomen.

"Nnnghh.. aaarghh!" Sigegar almost yelled. Slowing down his pumps, two more spurts of ejaculate landed on his chest.

Panting very heavily, heart stammering in his chest, Sigegar was drained. He could barely move a muscle, let alone lift a finger.

Looking up at the ceiling, he whispered, "Shit.." into the night air.

He summoned whatever energy he had left to grab a towel and wipe himself clean before falling into a restful slumber.

[chibi-chaos]

Partners in Crime

Okay sooooo... I shall commence this fanfic by explaining a few headcanons:

1. In the movie the news line during the interview with Chuck has “ Striker Eureka is the last Jaeger active among the ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps ) Jaegers. I took this and ran wild at this being a sign that New Zealand would also have their own Jaeger. Thus my oc’s Evan Henare and Waimarie Anderson were formed - I may end up making a post explaining them more in-depth

2. I like to picture Mako and Chuck being kids of Herc and Stacker would mean that they have met a fair few times and are like a ragtag family. And with it, the two would bounce off each other with their determination to be Jaeger pilots.

3. I imagine technicians and pilots would have had a fond side for Mako and Chuck, and I made Evan and Waimarie no exception to this.

After Marshal Pentecost took Mako in, the young girl found herself spending a few summers in Australia - specifically hanging around the Sydney Shatterdome as the Marshal went about his duties in the region. Naturally, it meant that she encountered Chuck. The ways she went about describing the youngest Hansen were as follows:

Agitated cat glaring at the corner of the room. That was literally how he looked when she first saw him, sitting on a set of metal stairs, clutching a bulldog in his arms.

Mean and not someone she’d want to be friends with. That was concluded after a bit of time, and when he opened his mouth. He had made the point to state how he didn’t like her, and honestly, she couldn’t say he was on her ‘like’ list either. Though the older she got the more she suspected that that had been partly because of how Herc had warmed up to her, in essence, she probably was a rival to a thing which younger Chuck didn’t want to acknowledge he was competing for.

Alright was when Chuck had slipped an opened magazine his uncle had given him to her. He acted as if he wasn’t doing it at all, looking at Max instead, and feeding him with his other hand. The magazine had been covering some of the specs of the Jaeger’s, as was something that Mako eagerly read over and memorized.

The trade would continue where the two shared what books and magazines they could get, and over some unclear time, the two had gotten onto friendly terms with each other without even realizing it. When Jake was a little older and was following the Marshal around he too would join in on their strange reading club. Max would love every second of it cause it meant he had the attention of three children.

When the Marshal would collect Jake (due to being still too young and needing to be taken to where they current home was), Herc would usually take the two somewhere. Most of the time it was exploring the base, sometimes he managed to get them off base. But eventually, they’d be left to entertain themselves in the quarters the Hansen’s had.

Partner-in-crime was one which occurred at that point. The older they got the more daring they became, they’d sneak out of their quarters and would make their way down to the Kwoon Room to spy on the Jaeger pilots - both eager by this point to become ones as well.

2017 came around and by summer in Australia, they were doing it again, this time with a new pair to study. After several years the two had come to know most of the pilot-pairs styles, Herc and Scott’s they probably knew best. So to have a new pair was exciting in a way.

The two seemed fairly different from the other, the man had tanned skin, dark brown hair and a fairly solid build, while the female seemed at least a few years younger, brown skin, dark hair and a lithe figure. They grew even more curious to see the use of the Quarterstaffs instead of the usual hanbo, bo or hand to hand.

“Who are they?” Mako remembered whispering to Chuck quietly.

“Evan Henare and Waimarie Anderson, they’re piloting a New Zealand Mark Four Jaeger; Kraken Roun. The first in a few ways...”

His explanation though faded as Mako watched the two pilots circle each other, spinning their staffs idly as if evaluating the other before suddenly Waimarie had moved. There was a practised ease in her move, that Evan seemed to not be at yet, a surprising thing considering how she was much younger than him. But the two fighting was a sight to behold - one that they remember only being matched when their fathers had sparred, that same confidence in each other's skills that led to them not holding back.

Their spying sessions went on like that, watching Herc and Scott, watching the Pilots of Vulcan Specter, the occasional sparring session between their fathers, and the two newest pilots.

Though the two New Zealanders had caught them red-handed at one point, and that led to a twist that would lead to some of  Mako’s fondest memories. One look between Evan and Waimarie and they had changed their quarter-staffs for the standard bo staff before offering it to Mako and Chuck.

And that was how it started, the meetings in the Kwoon Room where one session Waimarie would be teaching Mako moves, and Evan teaching Chuck to the next where they swapped. Sometimes Mako found herself sparring with the teenager (it had surprised her to know how much more closer their ages were to what she had thought they were).  But those sessions were amazing with how Waimarie treated her like a serious partner, and when they spared Chuck and Evan would be sitting on the steps, the pilot pointing out some of the moves Waimarie was using. The following week it would be Chuck sparring with Waimarie and Evan point out things to Mako, and then it would be swapped, the two getting to spar with Evan while Waimarie unpacks it all. In a strange way, Waimarie seemed to assume a sort of older-sister role, and Evan a hybrid of older brother and the ‘cool cousin’ character that turned up in stories she had read a few times.

Actual Partner started this moment when Evan turned from looking at her and Chuck to Waimarie as she moved over with two hanbo. There was a smile on his face, that almost matched the look Chuck would have when he stole his father’s or his uncle’s jacket. That edge of doing something that probably could stir trouble, but despite knowing that have every intention of doing it. If it wasn’t for the fact of how she had come to know Evan. along with the fact that Waimarie was there the ground him, Mako would have been a little worried.

“Here’s an idea Wai,” Evan said, tilting his head a tiny bit at the woman.

In return Waimarie had raised an eyebrow, looking suspiciously at her co-pilot for a moment before it shifted to a small smile.

An interesting side note that Mako had picked up that this was very reminiscent of how the two piloting together worked. Silently between each other Evan could generate creative ideas, and Waimarie could translate it into action.

“Oh?”

“How about we let Chuck and Mako spar between each other?”

It was in an instant that Chuck particularly had perked up at the thought of that before looking at Waimarie and Mako, hoping they’d agree. Mako, also admittedly liking this idea, turned to look at Waimarie as well. The young New Zealander sighed almost fondly, shaking her head as she smiles.

“Alright,” She replied, moving over to hand the two staffs to Mako and Chuck as the two had scrambled to take off their shoes.

Now, now they really felt like partners. In the near future, this could become common between her and Chuck sparring. Maybe they could follow in their father-figures’ steps and become Jaeger pilots and each other’s comm-pod partner.

The moment both had their staffs, Waimarie moved to follow Evan onto the steps, standing watch on this sparring match, the tiny Max following the two to settle next to them. Though give it about ten minutes and he’d be napping for as long as the matches lasted.

“Usually Kwoon training involves various forms of fighting; What your fight style and form is will be defined usually by you and your co-pilot.,” Waimarie explained once the two were in place, “In your case, it’s defined by how you two are well versed by now on how to use the hanbo, and some hand-to-hand.”

Deciding that was enough of an explanation, Evan spoke up.

“The first to land four strikes wins,” He announced, “But the real aim really is how you two can reach each other.”

“In essence, the longer the sparring session or the more moves blocked the more chance there is of compatibility.” Waimarie concluded with a smile- pausing for a moment before speaking again, “Begin.”

It was with that Mako quickly switched her focus from listening to Waimarie and Evan to Chuck, doing so in time to block an attack he was sending her way. What followed felt like pure instinct as Mako countered Chuck’s attack – because it became clear that when sparring with any Hansen meant fighting power with power. A Hansen committed to their moves a hundred per cent, fuelled by emotions, and refined with practice.

That match came close, but Mako ended up being able to win it due to being able to anticipate the next move at the end. A small huff escaped from Chuck before he bowed, accepting her win, a bow which she returned with one of her own. Accepting his respect and giving her own.

“Can we go again?” Chuck asked, looking expectantly at their seniors.

The two pilots shared a look between each other before Evan spoke up.

“In one moment.”

With that Waimarie gestured Chuck to move to one end of the room, and Evan moved to rest a hand on Mako’s shoulder and guided to the opposite end. Once there the elder ended up sitting on the floor doing stretches, which Mako decided to copy as well – seeing out of the corner of her eye as Waimarie seemed to be going through some moves with Chuck. One was clearly how to change a move once it’s been blocked. Something that Mako wasn’t sure if Chuck would actually end up using. Her train of thought was interrupted when Evan spoke up.

“Good job on blocking Little Hansen’s moves, he definitely wasn’t holding back.”

“I wasn’t holding back either.”

Evan smiled, “I know, that was clear too. But you both need to be careful with that – commitment is good, but being able to separate yourself to assess something is good too.”

“Are you referring to how you and Anderson-San circle each other, and those times you two jump away from each other for a moment?”

“Exactly. We take a small breath, quickly working out what worked and what did, how we’re carrying each other,” Evan said with a smile and a nod, “In a Jaeger, there’s less of a chance to take time to do so, but sparring helps you to get good at it.”

Following that well enough, Mako nodded, smiling a little when Evan got up ruffling her hair a tiny bit.

“Okay, we’re good here!” He called, earning a ‘same’ from his partner.

The end of that talk marked the beginning of the next sparring match. It seemed that both of them had listened to the advice that had been given to them, and in turn seemed to make the match long a little bit longer. In the end, it seemed like neither of them were going to get that fourth hit, and it seemed like Evan and Waimarie had concluded that.

“Okay, times up,” Evan announced, wearing a proud smile as he stepped back onto the mat.

Waimarie followed, at one point having disappeared long enough to return with two bottles of water, giving it to them the moment they had put their staffs away.

“Good round,” She had said with a pleased smile, resting her hands on their backs for a moment as she looked at Evan, “Ice cream run?”

Evan chuckled, “Naturally.”

It was a fact only known by a few people, that Evan had a tendency of launching raids on certain treats. Usually, it was chocolate for Waimarie when she had those days of curling up in a ball and hiding in her bed, it extended to Mako when she began to understand why the older female felt like that.

Ice cream though. That was something he started when he and Waimarie trained with her and Chuck, after one look of horror mixed disgust when finding out that neither Mako or Chuck had really experienced ice creams during summer.

So they commenced their small walk, a New Zealander technician having been entrusted with Max for a bit. Chuck halfway through had started to engage in a conversation with Waimarie, talking about the upgrades which were being installed on Kraken.

Meanwhile, Evan had noticed Mako slowing up a little, a little sore from the match, and had knelt in front of her.

“Get on, Sapling.” He said, in that tone that Mako knew well by now meant he was smiling fondly.

The nickname was a strange one that Evan gave her when he found out what her surname meant. Where Mori meant ‘Forest’, the male had given her a nickname which meant ‘baby tree’. That aside it had grown on to her, thus why she didn’t protest at its use when she ended up climbing up for a piggyback ride.

“Sorry, kiddo should have gotten you and Chuckster to have a cool down stretch.” He said with a glance over his shoulder, “You two did go all out after all.”

“It’s fine,” Mako replied with a soft smile, one that Evan returned before looking forward once more as to see where he was going.

A small walk would lead to her having a french vanilla ice cream, Chuck having a chocolate and mint ice cream, Waimarie a strawberry one, and Evan having a straight chocolate one. They’d reach back to Max soon enough and be back at the Hansen quarters, that when the New Zealanders left and Herc returned from training with Scott the two would be finishing up their ice cream, laughing at something funny with Max snuggled up between them.

[stephenmccull]

How ERs Fail Patients With Addiction: One Patient’s Tragic Death

Jameson Rybak tried to quit using opioids nearly a dozen times within five years. Each time, he’d wait out the vomiting, sweating and chills from withdrawal in his bedroom.

It was difficult to watch, said his mother, Suzanne Rybak, but she admired his persistence.

On March 11, 2020, though, Suzanne grew worried. Jameson, 30 at the time, was slipping in and out of consciousness and saying he couldn’t move his hands.

By 11 p.m., she decided to take him to the emergency room at McLeod Regional Medical Center in Florence, South Carolina. The staff there gave Jameson fluids through an IV to rehydrate, medication to decrease his nausea and potassium supplements to stop his muscle spasms, according to Suzanne and a letter the hospital’s administrator later sent her.

But when they recommended admitting him to monitor and manage the withdrawal symptoms, Jameson said no. He’d lost his job the previous month and, with it, his health insurance.

“He kept saying, ‘I can’t afford this,’” Suzanne recalled, and “not one person [at the hospital] indicated that my son would have had some financial options.”

Suzanne doesn’t remember any mention of the hospital’s financial assistance policy or payment plans, she said. Nor does she remember any discussions of providing Jameson medication to treat opioid use disorder or connecting him to addiction-specialty providers, she said.

“No referrals, no phone numbers, no follow-up information,” she later wrote in a complaint letter to the hospital.

Instead, ER staff provided a form saying Jameson was leaving against medical advice. He signed and Suzanne witnessed.

Three months later, Jameson Rybak died of an overdose in his childhood bedroom.

Missed Opportunities

That March night in the emergency room, Jameson Rybak had fallen victim to two huge gaps in the U.S. health care system: a paucity of addiction treatment and high medical costs. The two issues — distinct but often intertwined — can come to a head in the ER, where patients and families desperate for addiction treatment often arrive, only to find the facility may not be equipped to deal with substance use. Or, even if they are, the treatment is prohibitively expensive.

Academic and medical experts say patients like Jameson represent a series of missed opportunities — both medical and financial.

“The emergency department is like a door, a really important door patients are walking through for identification of those who might need help,” said Marla Oros, a registered nurse and president of the Mosaic Group, a Maryland-based consulting firm that has worked with more than 50 hospitals nationwide to increase addiction treatment services. “We’re losing so many patients that could be identified and helped,” she said, speaking generally.

A spokesperson for McLeod Regional Medical Center, where Jameson went for care, said they would not comment on an individual’s case and declined to answer a detailed list of questions about the hospital’s ER and financial assistance policies. But in a statement, the hospital’s parent company, McLeod Health, noted that the hospital adhered to federal laws requiring that hospital ERs provide “immediate stabilizing care” for all patients, regardless of their ability to pay.

“Our hospitals attempt to manage the acute symptoms, but we do not treat chronic, underlying addiction,” the statement added.

Suzanne said her son needed more than stabilization. He needed immediate help breaking the cycle of addiction.

Jameson had been in and out of treatment for five years, ever since a friend suggested he try opioids to manage his anxiety and insomnia. He had insurance through his jobs in the hotel industry and later as an electrical technician, Suzanne said. But the high-deductible plans often left him paying out-of-pocket: $3,000 for a seven-day rehab stay, $400 for a brief counseling session and a prescription of Suboxone, a medication to treat opioid use disorder.

After he lost his job in February 2020, Jameson tried again to detox at home, Suzanne said. That’s what led to the ER trip.

Treating Addiction in the ER

Hospital ERs across the nation have become ground zero for patients struggling with addiction.

A seminal study published in 2015 by researchers at Yale School of Medicine found that giving patients medication to treat opioid use disorder in the ER doubled their chances of being in treatment a month later, compared with those who were given only referrals to addiction treatment.

Yet providing that medication is still not standard practice. A 2017 survey found just 5% of emergency medicine physicians said their department provided medications for opioid use disorder. Instead, many ERs continue to discharge these patients, often with a list of phone numbers for addiction clinics.

Jameson didn’t even get that, Suzanne said. At McLeod Regional, he was not seen by a psychiatrist or addiction specialist and did not get a prescription for Suboxone or even a referral, she said.

After Jameson’s death, Suzanne wrote to the hospital: “Can you explain to me, especially with the drug crisis in this country, how the ER was not equipped with personnel and/or any follow-up for treatment?”

Hospital administrator Will McLeod responded to Suzanne, in a letter she shared with KHN, that per Jameson’s medical record he’d been evaluated appropriately and that his withdrawal symptoms had been treated. Jameson declined to be admitted to the hospital, the letter said, and could not be involuntarily committed, as he “was not an imminent danger to himself or others.”

“Had he been admitted to our hospital that day, he would have been assigned to social workers and case managers who could have assisted with referrals, support, and follow-up treatment,” McLeod wrote.

Nationwide, hospitals are working to ramp up the availability of addiction services in the ER. In South Carolina, a state-funded program through the Medical University of South Carolina and the consulting firm Mosaic Group aims to help hospitals create a standardized system to screen patients for addiction, employ individuals who are in recovery to work with those patients and offer medication for opioid use disorder in the ER.

The initiative had worked with seven ERs as of June. It was in discussions to work with McLeod Regional hospital too, program staffers said. However, the hospital backed out.

The hospital declined to comment on its decision.

ER staffs around the country often lack the personnel to launch initiatives or learn about initiating addiction treatment. Sometimes affordable referral options are limited in the area. Even when the initial prescribing does occur, cost can be a problem, since Suboxone and its generic equivalent range in price from $50 to over $500 per prescription, without insurance.

In South Carolina, which has not expanded Medicaid, nearly 11% of the population is uninsured. Among patients in the state’s program who have been started on medications for opioid use disorder in ERs, about 75% are uninsured, said Dr. Lindsey Jennings, an emergency medicine physician at MUSC who works on the statewide initiative.

Other parts of the country face similar concerns, said Dr. Alister Martin, an emergency medicine physician who heads a national campaign to encourage the use of these medications in the ER. In Texas, for example, hundreds of doctors have gotten certified to provide the medications, he said, but many patients are uninsured and can’t pay for their prescriptions.

“You can’t make it effective if people can’t afford it,” Martin said.

Too Late for Charity Care

Throughout the night at McLeod Regional hospital’s ER, Jameson worried about cost, Suzanne said.

She wanted to help, but Jameson’s father and younger brother had recently lost their jobs, and the household was running on her salary as a public school librarian.

Suzanne didn’t know that nonprofit hospitals, like McLeod, are required by the federal government to have financial assistance policies, which lower or eliminate bills for people without the resources to pay. Often called charity care, this assistance is a condition for nonprofit hospitals to maintain their tax-exempt status.

But “nonprofits are actually doing less charity care than for-profits,” said Ge Bai, an associate professor at Johns Hopkins University who published a study this year on the level of charity care provided by different hospitals.

That’s in part because they have wide leeway to determine who qualifies and often don’t tell patients they may be eligible, despite federal requirements that nonprofit hospitals “widely publicize” their financial assistance policies, including on billing statements and in “conspicuous public displays” in the hospital. One study found that only 50% of hospitals regularly notified patients about eligibility for charity care before initiating debt collection.

McLeod Regional’s most recent publicly available tax return states that “uninsured patients are screened at the time of registration” and if they’re unable to pay and ineligible for governmental insurance, they’re given an application.

Suzanne said she doesn’t remember Jameson or herself receiving an application. The hospital declined to comment on the Rybaks’ case and whether it provides “conspicuous public displays” of financial assistance.

“Not once did anybody tell us, ‘Let’s get a financial person down here,’ or ‘There are grant programs,’” Suzanne said.

Mark Rukavina, with the nonprofit health advocacy group Community Catalyst, said most hospitals comply with the letter of the law in publicizing their assistance policy. But “how effective some of that messaging is may be a question,” he said. Some hospitals may bury the policy in a dense packet of other information or use signs with vague language.

A KHN investigation in 2019 found that, nationwide, 45% of nonprofit hospital organizations were routinely sending medical bills to patients whose incomes were low enough to qualify for charity care. McLeod Regional hospital reported $1.77 million of debt from sending bills to such patients, which ended up going unpaid, for the fiscal year ending in 2019.

Believing they couldn’t afford in-patient admission, the Rybaks left the hospital that night.

After the ER

Afterward, Jameson’s withdrawal symptoms passed, Suzanne said. He spent time golfing with his younger brother. Although his application for unemployment benefits was denied, he managed to defer payments on his car and school loans, she said.

But, inside, he must have been struggling, Suzanne now realizes.

Throughout the pandemic, many people with substance use disorder reported feeling isolated and relapsing. Overdose deaths rose nationwide.

On the morning of June 9, 2020, Suzanne opened the door to Jameson’s room and found him on the floor. The coroner determined he had died of an overdose. The family later scattered his ashes on Myrtle Beach — Jameson’s favorite place, Suzanne said.

In the months following Jameson’s death, hospital bills for his night in the ER arrived at the house. He owed $4,928, they said. Suzanne wrote to the hospital that her son was dead but received yet another bill addressed to him after that.

She shredded it and mailed the pieces to the hospital, along with a copy of Jameson’s death certificate.

Twelve days later, the health system wrote to her that the bill had been resolved under its charity care program.

Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KHN and NPR that dissects and explains medical bills. Do you have an interesting medical bill you want to share with us? Tell us about it!

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

How ERs Fail Patients With Addiction: One Patient’s Tragic Death published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

[gordonwilliamsweb]

How ERs Fail Patients With Addiction: One Patient’s Tragic Death

Jameson Rybak tried to quit using opioids nearly a dozen times within five years. Each time, he’d wait out the vomiting, sweating and chills from withdrawal in his bedroom.

It was difficult to watch, said his mother, Suzanne Rybak, but she admired his persistence.

On March 11, 2020, though, Suzanne grew worried. Jameson, 30 at the time, was slipping in and out of consciousness and saying he couldn’t move his hands.

By 11 p.m., she decided to take him to the emergency room at McLeod Regional Medical Center in Florence, South Carolina. The staff there gave Jameson fluids through an IV to rehydrate, medication to decrease his nausea and potassium supplements to stop his muscle spasms, according to Suzanne and a letter the hospital’s administrator later sent her.

But when they recommended admitting him to monitor and manage the withdrawal symptoms, Jameson said no. He’d lost his job the previous month and, with it, his health insurance.

“He kept saying, ‘I can’t afford this,’” Suzanne recalled, and “not one person [at the hospital] indicated that my son would have had some financial options.”

Suzanne doesn’t remember any mention of the hospital’s financial assistance policy or payment plans, she said. Nor does she remember any discussions of providing Jameson medication to treat opioid use disorder or connecting him to addiction-specialty providers, she said.

“No referrals, no phone numbers, no follow-up information,” she later wrote in a complaint letter to the hospital.

Instead, ER staff provided a form saying Jameson was leaving against medical advice. He signed and Suzanne witnessed.

Three months later, Jameson Rybak died of an overdose in his childhood bedroom.

Missed Opportunities

That March night in the emergency room, Jameson Rybak had fallen victim to two huge gaps in the U.S. health care system: a paucity of addiction treatment and high medical costs. The two issues — distinct but often intertwined — can come to a head in the ER, where patients and families desperate for addiction treatment often arrive, only to find the facility may not be equipped to deal with substance use. Or, even if they are, the treatment is prohibitively expensive.

Academic and medical experts say patients like Jameson represent a series of missed opportunities — both medical and financial.

“The emergency department is like a door, a really important door patients are walking through for identification of those who might need help,” said Marla Oros, a registered nurse and president of the Mosaic Group, a Maryland-based consulting firm that has worked with more than 50 hospitals nationwide to increase addiction treatment services. “We’re losing so many patients that could be identified and helped,” she said, speaking generally.

A spokesperson for McLeod Regional Medical Center, where Jameson went for care, said they would not comment on an individual’s case and declined to answer a detailed list of questions about the hospital’s ER and financial assistance policies. But in a statement, the hospital’s parent company, McLeod Health, noted that the hospital adhered to federal laws requiring that hospital ERs provide “immediate stabilizing care” for all patients, regardless of their ability to pay.

“Our hospitals attempt to manage the acute symptoms, but we do not treat chronic, underlying addiction,” the statement added.

Suzanne said her son needed more than stabilization. He needed immediate help breaking the cycle of addiction.

Jameson had been in and out of treatment for five years, ever since a friend suggested he try opioids to manage his anxiety and insomnia. He had insurance through his jobs in the hotel industry and later as an electrical technician, Suzanne said. But the high-deductible plans often left him paying out-of-pocket: $3,000 for a seven-day rehab stay, $400 for a brief counseling session and a prescription of Suboxone, a medication to treat opioid use disorder.

After he lost his job in February 2020, Jameson tried again to detox at home, Suzanne said. That’s what led to the ER trip.

Treating Addiction in the ER

Hospital ERs across the nation have become ground zero for patients struggling with addiction.

A seminal study published in 2015 by researchers at Yale School of Medicine found that giving patients medication to treat opioid use disorder in the ER doubled their chances of being in treatment a month later, compared with those who were given only referrals to addiction treatment.

Yet providing that medication is still not standard practice. A 2017 survey found just 5% of emergency medicine physicians said their department provided medications for opioid use disorder. Instead, many ERs continue to discharge these patients, often with a list of phone numbers for addiction clinics.

Jameson didn’t even get that, Suzanne said. At McLeod Regional, he was not seen by a psychiatrist or addiction specialist and did not get a prescription for Suboxone or even a referral, she said.

After Jameson’s death, Suzanne wrote to the hospital: “Can you explain to me, especially with the drug crisis in this country, how the ER was not equipped with personnel and/or any follow-up for treatment?”

Hospital administrator Will McLeod responded to Suzanne, in a letter she shared with KHN, that per Jameson’s medical record he’d been evaluated appropriately and that his withdrawal symptoms had been treated. Jameson declined to be admitted to the hospital, the letter said, and could not be involuntarily committed, as he “was not an imminent danger to himself or others.”

“Had he been admitted to our hospital that day, he would have been assigned to social workers and case managers who could have assisted with referrals, support, and follow-up treatment,” McLeod wrote.

Nationwide, hospitals are working to ramp up the availability of addiction services in the ER. In South Carolina, a state-funded program through the Medical University of South Carolina and the consulting firm Mosaic Group aims to help hospitals create a standardized system to screen patients for addiction, employ individuals who are in recovery to work with those patients and offer medication for opioid use disorder in the ER.

The initiative had worked with seven ERs as of June. It was in discussions to work with McLeod Regional hospital too, program staffers said. However, the hospital backed out.

The hospital declined to comment on its decision.

ER staffs around the country often lack the personnel to launch initiatives or learn about initiating addiction treatment. Sometimes affordable referral options are limited in the area. Even when the initial prescribing does occur, cost can be a problem, since Suboxone and its generic equivalent range in price from $50 to over $500 per prescription, without insurance.

In South Carolina, which has not expanded Medicaid, nearly 11% of the population is uninsured. Among patients in the state’s program who have been started on medications for opioid use disorder in ERs, about 75% are uninsured, said Dr. Lindsey Jennings, an emergency medicine physician at MUSC who works on the statewide initiative.

Other parts of the country face similar concerns, said Dr. Alister Martin, an emergency medicine physician who heads a national campaign to encourage the use of these medications in the ER. In Texas, for example, hundreds of doctors have gotten certified to provide the medications, he said, but many patients are uninsured and can’t pay for their prescriptions.

“You can’t make it effective if people can’t afford it,” Martin said.

Too Late for Charity Care

Throughout the night at McLeod Regional hospital’s ER, Jameson worried about cost, Suzanne said.

She wanted to help, but Jameson’s father and younger brother had recently lost their jobs, and the household was running on her salary as a public school librarian.

Suzanne didn’t know that nonprofit hospitals, like McLeod, are required by the federal government to have financial assistance policies, which lower or eliminate bills for people without the resources to pay. Often called charity care, this assistance is a condition for nonprofit hospitals to maintain their tax-exempt status.

But “nonprofits are actually doing less charity care than for-profits,” said Ge Bai, an associate professor at Johns Hopkins University who published a study this year on the level of charity care provided by different hospitals.

That’s in part because they have wide leeway to determine who qualifies and often don’t tell patients they may be eligible, despite federal requirements that nonprofit hospitals “widely publicize” their financial assistance policies, including on billing statements and in “conspicuous public displays” in the hospital. One study found that only 50% of hospitals regularly notified patients about eligibility for charity care before initiating debt collection.

McLeod Regional’s most recent publicly available tax return states that “uninsured patients are screened at the time of registration” and if they’re unable to pay and ineligible for governmental insurance, they’re given an application.

Suzanne said she doesn’t remember Jameson or herself receiving an application. The hospital declined to comment on the Rybaks’ case and whether it provides “conspicuous public displays” of financial assistance.

“Not once did anybody tell us, ‘Let’s get a financial person down here,’ or ‘There are grant programs,’” Suzanne said.

Mark Rukavina, with the nonprofit health advocacy group Community Catalyst, said most hospitals comply with the letter of the law in publicizing their assistance policy. But “how effective some of that messaging is may be a question,” he said. Some hospitals may bury the policy in a dense packet of other information or use signs with vague language.

A KHN investigation in 2019 found that, nationwide, 45% of nonprofit hospital organizations were routinely sending medical bills to patients whose incomes were low enough to qualify for charity care. McLeod Regional hospital reported $1.77 million of debt from sending bills to such patients, which ended up going unpaid, for the fiscal year ending in 2019.

Believing they couldn’t afford in-patient admission, the Rybaks left the hospital that night.

After the ER

Afterward, Jameson’s withdrawal symptoms passed, Suzanne said. He spent time golfing with his younger brother. Although his application for unemployment benefits was denied, he managed to defer payments on his car and school loans, she said.

But, inside, he must have been struggling, Suzanne now realizes.

Throughout the pandemic, many people with substance use disorder reported feeling isolated and relapsing. Overdose deaths rose nationwide.

On the morning of June 9, 2020, Suzanne opened the door to Jameson’s room and found him on the floor. The coroner determined he had died of an overdose. The family later scattered his ashes on Myrtle Beach — Jameson’s favorite place, Suzanne said.

In the months following Jameson’s death, hospital bills for his night in the ER arrived at the house. He owed $4,928, they said. Suzanne wrote to the hospital that her son was dead but received yet another bill addressed to him after that.

She shredded it and mailed the pieces to the hospital, along with a copy of Jameson’s death certificate.

Twelve days later, the health system wrote to her that the bill had been resolved under its charity care program.

Bill of the Month is a crowdsourced investigation by KHN and NPR that dissects and explains medical bills. Do you have an interesting medical bill you want to share with us? Tell us about it!

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

How ERs Fail Patients With Addiction: One Patient’s Tragic Death published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[mariahanchuksportofsoftball]

Katie Bettencourt: From Athlete to Coach

Endicott Softball Head Coach Katie Bettencourt grew up in Salem, New Hampshire where she first found her love for the sport of softball. A sport that seemed like an after-school activity soon became a passion and lifestyle for Bettencourt. 

Bettencourt attended Salem High School in 2005 where she played softball, field hockey, and basketball. Sports are something that comes easy for Bettencourt. She grew up with the mindset of always wanting to win and being extremely competitive. Bettencourt looks at competition as business to take care of and then the fun can come after. This mindset and persona she carried helped to make her mark in the sports world. She won three state championships with her field hockey team and she was the MVP in her final years with the basketball team. As she shined in both basketball and field hockey, nothing compared to her ability to play softball. On the softball team, she was able to win a state championship, earned first-team All-State three years in a row, was named captain and MVP in her final two years, and batted .468 with 93 RBI’s. The list goes on and on for Bettencourt and as she left high school she was named Salem High Outstanding Female Spring Athlete. 

In 2009, Bettencourt played Division I softball at UMass Amherst. Her Freshman year was not what she hoped as she started off as a pinch-runner. However, that didn’t stop her from exceeding the expectations of her coaches. In her following years of college, she earned Regional and National awards while helping her team qualify for the NCAA tournament. Bettencourt was also a captain three years in a row. Her excellence didn’t stop at the field, she maintained Deans’ list and was a constant leader to her team. 

Bettencourt graduated from UMass in 2013 and she quickly realized she needed the sport of softball to be a constant in her life. One year later, Bettencourt found herself back on the field but this time as an Assistant Coach for Worcester Polytechnic Institute. Bettencourt wanted to be more than an Assistant Coach so she took matters into her own hands and became the Head Coach at Assumption College from 2016-2017.

Bettencourt ultimately found her dream job as the Head Coach for the softball team at Endicott College. She started in 2017 and has never felt more at home. From the staff to the campus and her team, Bettencourt believes she found the job at the school where she was meant to be.

Q&A with Katie Bettencourt

Q: How did you get into softball and playing at the college level?

 A: “I first got serious about softball when I got cut from the middle school team in 6th grade. From that day forward I practiced multiple times a week, I played travel ball that summer for the first time, and I really started to enjoy playing. The more I practiced the better I got. My passion grew after that summer.”

 “The high school I attended had a very successful softball program. The expectation was winning state championships, which I loved! I worked hard during the winter and made varsity as a freshman. That is when I met my mentor, Whitney Mollica (Goldstein is her married name now.) She was heading to UMass Amherst in the fall on a softball scholarship and, man, was she GOOD! I wanted to be as good as her, if not better. I started to follow her around school and practice, picked her brain about the game, and the recruiting process. She was the reason the UMass coach even looked at me.”

 “When Whitney would come home from winter and summer breaks she would hit with me and help me to become better. We would take videos of my swing and pass them along to the UMass coach, Coach Sortino. I had interest from other schools but UMass always had my eye. I love winning and that’s what Coach Sortino was all about.”

 “I attended an overnight summer camp UMass hosted the summer going into my senior year of high school and I BALLED OUT! After that camp, I was offered a roster spot on the team. I verbally committed about a week later.” 

  Q: How did you get into Coaching?

 A: “ During the summers during college, I helped coach a few travel teams. But I first got into college coaching right after I graduated from UMass. I took an assistant coaching job at WPI with Whitney. She got the head coaching job that same summer and asked me to be on her staff. I was there for two years until I took the head coaching job at Assumption College” (now Assumption University.)

  “I love everything about being a part of a team, especially when it comes to the game of softball. There is more failure than success in this sport, you NEED teammates to pick you up physically and mentally. I loved coaching that, the fight, and the resilience that comes with the game. In addition, helping student-athletes improve their skill set and watching that translate into games is very rewarding to me.”

 “All in all, I love this game. It has done a lot for me. I have met some incredible people and traveled to some pretty neat places. It has given me so much, the least I can do is give back and I really enjoy doing it!”

  Q: So why did you choose Endicott?

 A: “I became familiar with Endicott when my cousin, Kevin Bettencourt, was hired as the Head Men’s Basketball Coach. I started to attend home games and got to know Endicott’s campus. It was actually Mark Kulakowski who put a bug in my ear about applying for the job (which I am so lucky he did!) In all honesty, I did not do too much research on Endicott and it wasn’t until the first interview that I realized how big of an opportunity it was to be a part of the Endicott community. Another aspect of the job that caught my attention was it was a full-time position. Something that I was not at Assumption. I was part-time at Assumption and had to work multiple jobs in order to survive financially.”

 “When I was offered the position at Endicott it was a no-brainer! Full-time position doing what I love to do, at a college with an awesome community, and with an athletic department that loves to win! All while living closer to my family!”

 Q: Who have been your inspirations surrounding the sport?

 A: “I have had two huge inspirations and mentors throughout my softball career. One being Whitney Goldstein who I mentioned earlier. I have known Whitney since I was 14 years old, we have been teammates, colleagues, but most importantly great friends. We talk almost every day about softball and life. She has been so helpful in every single aspect of my life. Whenever I need someone to bounce ideas off of whether it’s coaching or life, Whitney is the first person I reach out to.”

 “My college coach, Coach Sortino, is my other inspiration. She passed away shortly after I graduated in the summer of 2013 after a courageous 2 year battle with cancer. She was an unbelievable coach that had an incredible ability to bring out the best in you.”

 “I was in a unique position of being a 3-year captain during my time at UMass, and every year she pushed me to be a better leader. I remember coming home from many practices and games reflecting on myself and asking “what more does this woman want from me?!” In my last year, we were playing in a pivotal conference series and I had just hit a huge 3-run home run that put us up in the late innings and it ultimately won us the game. As I came back to the dugout, Coach gave me this nod almost to tell me “there you go, that’s what I need from you.” If she didn’t push me as hard as she did I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”

 “She shined with integrity, tough love, passion, tradition, care, and honesty. She was so fearless! She took pride in everything we did. Even when her health was declining she found ways to make the team better.  She truly taught us you do things the right way because it is the right thing to do.”

 “She believed in communication, telling someone the truth, and trust me it wasn't always comfortable to hear it. One time during a hard practice, she told me I was in “Loserville” because of how I was handling the adversity of not performing well that day. That day she taught me it’s easy to feel sorry for yourself on hard days, it’s hard to fight through the hard days. I don’t want to take the easy road! I wanted to take the hard road and fight! That is what is going to make me better in the end. Again, if she didn’t push me as hard as she did I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”

 Q: How would you describe the Endicott softball team?

 A: “Not to sound cliché but family! Not too many people understand the grind that goes into being a college student-athlete. It can bring a group together quickly. Watching the team form friendship and bonds has been fun to watch.”

 Q: What message do you try to instill in the team? 

A: “This past year I feel as though we have emphasized effort and being a good teammate. It is a standard for the team that we are bringing our best effort to every practice and game. It’s hard, it’s hard to bring your best effort and energy every single day. But that is what we ask of our student-athletes and they respond.”

 “Another message is being a good teammate. Especially with all the events that have transpired this past year, it’s important to us to be good people. Do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do is a phrase I find myself saying to the team quite often.” 

 “Lastly, we talk a lot about the team and taking time to form relationships with your teammates. It’s the relationships that you will remember the most, not the wins or championships, although we talk about that a lot too.”

  Q: What does softball mean to you?

 A: “This sport has done a lot for me. The education I received, the ability to compete unapologetically, the relationships I have formed, the places I have traveled, the memories I have made. I could go on and go! All because of the game of softball! It has allowed me to do it all! Even at 30 years old, softball is providing me with the opportunity to meet new people, travel, and compete! I am forever grateful for this game!”

 “I think a lot of young girls get discouraged from this game because there is a lot of failing, especially at the beginning! It also requires a lot of hard work to be good. Hitting is hard! Pitching is hard! The game, at times, can get complicated. Stick with it!!! The opportunities the game provides outweigh the hard parts. Stick with it! Get a little better every day and soon you will figure it out!”

[thecurlysafari]

As people pass you by...

At 17 years old I caught one bus to College, driving past country hills for a brief moment, I used to look afar and picture a life in greenery. As I was city bound for much of my life and as a dreamer, forever with my head in the clouds, I used the bus journeys to contemplate. 

At 17, as I walked up the steepest hill to reach the College at the top, I was passed by many of my college friends and classmates whizzing by in their cars. It felt as though 90% of people learned to drive during College years. Then a handful more when I moved to Wales for Uni. 

But driving was never a focus or concern for me. Financially also, the cost alone was the same as a flight to Kenya, so naturally, I chose the flight. 

For years as I grew, more and more people drove and more and more opportunities would have been far easier with a vehicle. When I managed multiple supported living homes 2 hours from my house, a car would have reduced that to a mere 30 minutes drive. Or the youth charity role having to scout, visit and book hundreds of community and business partnerships across a region, scheduling time in for public transport. A colleague in this role could not believe I was 24 and couldnt drive. 

But once again, it wasnt a concern. Not just for the financial reason, it didnt seem of interest and I had a conflict with the environmental and social damage driving would have (my thinking at the time). 

But at 26, I decided I wanted to drive and finally found an instructor I connected with. Each Thursday at 8am I would have this lesson and drive to University ready for a 10am lecture. It was a nice routine and lasted a few months. But when a two week trip turned into no driving money that month which turned into, it was too hard I couldnt do it, eventually my lessons stopped. 

I genuinely thought it was a skill I just didnt possess and driving wasnt for me. I could not get the hang of it all and perhaps I would just never drive. 

Then, at 28, I took a role overseas that demanded I drive, cars, vans and minibuses long and short distances with aid and volunteers to transport also. I decided this was the kick I needed and during my interview process I made the bold claim I would pass my time at the time of employment. The claim was heard and noted and now I needed to deliver. 

So my rota was a 21 day on 7 day off system (although often was more 22-23 days on and 3-4 days off). So that month, I travelled back to the UK and arranged a two day intensive with my former instructor. All of those mental barriers had no place, I needed to pass the theory and learn to drive. It was as simple as that. So, the theory was passed and the two days were up. I had gone from a shy and timid learner to a somewhat confident driver who could do things like change gears whilst driving round the roundabout (something that seemed PHYSICALLY impossible as a learner, too terrified to let go of the wheel at any point). 

I took the test and with no majors and very few minors, I ...failed. I had to travel back to France and work for another 22 days. But the day of failure would not have a full stop attached to it. As I returned to France on the ferry, I sat and booked another day with the instructor and another test. 

I made a claim, I made a decision, it was time to honour it. 

22 days later, I travelled back again, with 6 or 7 solid hours of driving with a quick espresso break. What was nice about this new found confidence is that I was hearing all the things my instructor had been saying; but this time there was no constant noise of fear and doubt blocking out his conversation or instruction. I loved hearing his anecdotes about his family and his travels and our social and political debates took up time, whilst I was driving. 

The next day was the test. I had to pass. And at 9.30am that day there was the certificate in my hand. 

Elated, ecstatic, I told my team and manager I had passed. 

So I returned to France the very next morning feeling pretty good about myself. The feeling that lasted all of a few moments. As, my colleague called, from the roadside, with car failure and the need for a pick up. My usual plan would be to run around the team that day and see who could drive one of the vehicles. But low on volunteers that day, the only driver was me! 

With no choice I got into the work car, driving at about 2mph out of the warehouse and onto the main road. 

Its one thing to learn to drive in 3 days with your cool and calm instructor. Its another to be alone in a French town on the opposing side of the road, driving in an emergency. The driving didnt stop from there as that very day I also needed to drive a small team to deliver aid to a local site that evening, or the aid and volunteers transported the following day via the motorway and a 45 minute drive to Dunkirk. 

Its fair to say I lost weight that week, in buckets of nerves and sweat! 

My dad finds the stories hilarious and says they are typical of me. Not doing things by half. 

But I didn't consciously decide this route, nor did I plan on driving in my first month of passing. 

Never at 17 did I imagine I would be driving through that greenery with the sun beaming on my face as I drive for 7 hours along the French coast to Normandy. I didn't believe I possessed that skill, nor did I prioritize it. So, as so many around me passed their test and saw driving as natural as breathing. It took 11 years more of public transport, walking, cycling until I took the plunge and did the same. 

I realise how insignificant and tiny this may seem to so many, to whom driving is normal, standard and a given. But after driving the work car, I drove the work van, then the other work van, then practiced in the minibus (which is basically a truck). I drove weekly to another country, driving to Brussels every Thursday. I drove back and forth to the UK and France when I was visiting home. I’ve driven in random country lanes, en route to the French alps, on airfields (not recommended), in waters (also not recommended) and it wont stop there. 

But what’s crazy to some is normal to others. For me, learning to drive was one of the best feelings in the world. Only because I gave myself a strict target and zero room for failure. Any thoughts of doubt or fear that had taken up so many years before, would have taken away powerful mental energy needed to learn and store information and muscle memory needed to gain the driving license and like skill. 

I shut down any dialogue that said no or presented barriers or problems. Even those around me, although the foundation was love and care, I was told to not be so silly or ridiculous to pass in that limited time. 

But plan B’s do really distract from plan A’s...even if that is a Will Smith lyric, the message rings true. 

The mind and power of intention is magic when channeled correctly. But I didnt realise how so, until a simple task like this became a mental mountain I had to tackle. 

People will always whizz by and pass you as you walk along your journey, getting to places or achieving things perhaps before you or more than you. You may feel like 17 year old me with 90% of people around you doing something, you at present arent or cant or dont want to do. I didnt want to drive at 17 and thoroughly enjoyed my bus journeys and walks. Nor was I ready to later on, although doing so could have been so helpful to short term work gains. 

Instead I accomplished more than a simple driving license. I understood what determination and tenacity looked like on a deeper level. I practiced the power of intention and gave myself two months of one sole focus. 

So, despite what 90% of your circle or networks may be doing. Only give energy and focus to the things that matter to you. Give weight and significance to as much or as little you care to. Spend ten days, hours or years to learn to drive or learn anything for that matter. 

Actually give this power of intention thing a real go (if you dont already). You might end up doing some pretty special things in some pretty special places.

Pictured above...my first 7 hour drive to Normandy. Ignoring the amount of screams and genuine terror experienced by me and my passengers.

[dippedanddripped]

A skinny, gap-toothed kid gesticulates wildly in the parking lot of Mike’s Drive-In in Oregon City. Short dreads stick up on either side of his head, like antennae to some alien planet. His friends, in the deep background, hang out of a silver Honda, goofing on one another. But it’s nearly impossible to take your eyes off the skinny kid, with his awkward dance moves and urgent facial expressions. He commands your attention. He needs it.

This is the video for Aminé’s persistently catchy “Caroline,” a half-sung, half-rapped summer anthem that went viral in 2016—the video has more than 200 million YouTube views, and the kid front and center is the artist himself. It’s Aminé’s best-known song, and for most music fans both within his home city of Portland and beyond, it represented the MC/singer/director’s colorful first impression.

Aminé—born Adam Amine Daniel, son of Ethiopian and Eritrean immigrants to Portland and a graduate of Benson High—had been around awhile before “Caroline” hit. His debut album, Odyssey to Me, appeared in 2014, though it has long been expunged from the commercial internet. It begins with a low-key prophecy: “I’m headed to my next show / I gotta go / Headed to that Madison Square / 25,000 fans in the air.” Then an accented female voice repeats “Adam, wake up.” It’s Aminé’s mother, coaxing him back to Portland obscurity. But it’s too late. The dream has taken root.

Aminé hasn’t played Madison Square Garden just yet, but he has definitely found a bigger stage. In 2017, the hip-hop magazine XXL included him in its influential Freshman Class, which functions as a sort of critical watchlist of stars in the making. Billboard and the New York Times both weighed in favorably, the latter calling his major-label debut, Good for You, “one of this year’s most intriguing hip-hop albums and also a bold statement of left-field pop.” The album sold 13,000 copies in its first week, debuting at no. 34 on Billboard’s US charts. After a set at Lollapalooza, Daniel posed for photographs with his arm around a new fan, Malia Obama.

Through sheer will and a catchy song, a colorful dream world became Aminé’s reality. From the outside, it’s like he came out of nowhere. That’s intentional. To become the next big thing in the music world of the late 2010s, you have to let the world in on the ground floor. That can sometimes mean recalibrating, or even erasing, your pre-fame history. All the way along, Aminé—who, through manager Justin Lehmann, declined to be interviewed for this piece and did not respond to requests for comment on this story—had boosters and collaborators. Some have come along for the ride. Some were left in the dust. This is the years-long story of Aminé’s overnight success.

Born in 1994, Aminé grew up in Northeast Portland. He’s said his biggest aspiration back then was “to be Kobe Bryant,” a dream dashed when he was cut from the Benson basketball team as a freshman. But he also grew up in a musical environment—he’s told interviewers his parents listened to everything from Ethiopian music to John Mayer—and music eventually became an obsession. In his first recorded performance, he told Vice in August, he rapped about girls and rival high schools over Waka Flocka Flame’s “O Let’s Do It.”

Josh Hickman, a thoughtful and soft-spoken 26-year-old, is three years Aminé’s senior. He also went to Benson and both ran track, but the two barely knew each other then. Three years after high school graduation, as Hickman began his senior year at Portland State University, he connected with Daniel, a PSU freshman, who messaged him about music.

“My first impression of Adam was that he seemed older than he was,” says Hickman, who spent his college years composing and producing rap music under the name Jahosh. “There was a determination, or a focus, that resonated with me. It probably goes back to track and field at Benson. We would work out six days a week. It really instilled me with this work ethic and discipline. So when I met Adam, I was just like, ‘Man this is dope. He’s just like me.’”

I was screaming to the moon, ‘Check out Aminé! He’s doing the thing! Are you guys paying attention?’

Daniel loaned Hickman money to buy a microphone and portable vocal booth, and they began writing and recording on a relentless schedule. “He would come over in the morning and he wouldn’t leave till night,” Hickman says. “But it didn’t even feel like work.” Daniel would give Hickman input on the beats; Hickman says he helped with song concepts and even lyrics. Together they created the first DIY Aminé release, a mixtape called Genuine Thoughts.

With help from PSU music students whom the charismatic Daniel had recruited along the way—including multi-instrumentalist Irvin Mejia, who would go on to produce “Caroline” and other songs on Aminé’s major-label debut—Hickman went on to produce the bulk of Odyssey to Mein his windowless recording studio in East Portland in late 2013. The album’s songs run from vulnerable, confessional slow-burners (“My Emotions”) to explicit sex jams (“Feelin’ Like”). It’s ambitious both sonically and conceptually: The cover art adapts the poster from Richard Ayoade’s 2010 cult film Submarine, about a small-town 15-year-old named Oliver looking to lose his virginity. The album echoes the film’s plot in places, and references its protagonist throughout.

By Odyssey to Me’s 2014 release, Aminé had picked up a few key supporters in Portland, including Fahiym Acuay, an MC and writer (under the name Mac Smiff) for the popular regional hip-hop blog We Out Here. Meeting Aminé for a video interview, Acuay remembers a funny, slightly shy kid who seemed unusually driven. “He knew that he was a little bit different,” Acuay says. “He had a really different sound—kind of playful—but he also had these really deep melodies.” Acuay became an evangelist for the young artist: “I was screaming to the moon, ‘Check out Aminé! He’s doing the thing! Are you guys paying attention?’”

IMAGE: COURTESY MARCUS HYDE AND REPUBLIC RECORDS

While local acts like U-Krew, Five Fingers of Funk, Lifesavas, and Cool Nutz have made some waves, Portland has never spawned a true national hip-hop star. Instead, we have a closed rap ecosystem with its own set of references, stylistic tendencies, and small-town kingpins. Portland rap artists tend to be judged more on their lyricism and verbal ability than on their melodic instincts or pop savvy. And on those fronts, Acuay notes, Aminé is no match for local mainstays like Illmaculate and Rasheed Jamal—battle-tested MCs with dense, intricate rhyme delivery. In fact, if Aminé had emerged a decade earlier, there’s a good chance he’d figure in the Portland hip-hop story as an eccentric side character, selling mixtapes out of his trunk at rap shows. But Aminé was born in a new era, where the home-burned CD has been replaced by lightly curated “mixtape” download websites that connect artists directly to a national audience, with no middleman and no local-cred hurdles to clear.

And Daniel knew how to work that system. He spent $1,000 of his student loan money to secure Odyssey to Me a spot in the featured albums section of Datpiff.com, a popular hip-hop mixtape-sharing blog that has served as a bellwether for artists like Drake and Chance the Rapper. By the end of summer 2014, Odyssey had reached 20,000 downloads. Daniel and Hickman found a promoter to take a punt on them—Ibeth Hernandez, who offered them a show at Peter’s Room in the Roseland, opening for critically acclaimed California hip-hop trio Pac Div. “It was so sweet,” Hernandez remembers of Daniel and Hickman. “They got me a thank-you card afterward, and it had, like, a Starbucks gift card inside.”

But the biggest payoffs came from shows Aminé and Jahosh booked for themselves. A few days after Christmas 2013, they threw a show marking Odyssey’s imminent release, hit social media hard, and drew 250. A party the next year drew 400, among them Blazers star Damian Lillard. His presence alone hinted that Daniel and Hickman had sidestepped most Portland hip-hop rites of passage. Not everybody would be happy about it.

But Daniel was making connections outside of Portland, too. In summer 2014, after landing internships with Complex magazine and Def Jam Records, he connected with a young, unestablished New York City manager named Justin Lehmann. To Hickman, something about the new arrangement set off alarm bells.

“I was with Adam from day one,” he says, “thinking, his success is my success and my success is his success.” Though he won’t dive into specifics—and allows for miscommunications—Hickman says he decided to get his handshake deal with Daniel into writing. Daniel refused. Hickman “got even more weirded out.” The partnership slowly unraveled, taking the pair’s friendship with it, and Hickman would later pull Aminé’s first album and the subsequent En Vogue EP from the internet, asking social media outlets and blogs to do the same. “It was my assumption that he would have most likely taken the music down himself, had I not,” says Hickman.

He was building this full package for himself. He didn’t just focus on Portland.

Aminé’s second full-length album—the excellent, world-music-inspired collection Calling Brio—proved that he was capable of making great music without Hickman. That too has been scrubbed from the web post-“Caroline,” along with videos and articles from 2014 and 2015, as has become standard practice for many indie artists who take on a major-label rebrand. Around the same time, Daniel texted Acuay to ask him to remove all the pieces We Out Here had written about Aminé from the site. Acuay reluctantly agreed. Later, when he saw a national piece on Aminé billed as “the first interview” with the young artist behind “Caroline,” Acuay admits, “I was kind of salty for a second. I had the first interview.”

Two years after Josh Hickman and Adam Daniel parted ways, Aminé struck gold with “Caroline.” The single and video led to a deal with Republic Records, a Universal subsidiary home to artists from Ariana Grande to Black Sabbath. While Daniel moved to Los Angeles in 2016, his official label bio still begins with “Now, Portland isn’t traditionally referred to as a hotbed of hip-hop like Brooklyn or Compton is, but Aminé could very well change that perception.”

For a moment, it appeared that Aminé might force the issue. In November 2016 on Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show, Aminé performed a striking and minimal version of “Caroline” with a string section. At the end of the performance, the yellow stage lights switched to red, white, and blue, and he delivered a message to the incoming president elected just days before. “You can never make America great again / All you ever did was make this country hate again.” It was a bold choice, one the Times and other outlets focused on. But Portland music fans noticed something else: two vocalists backing up Aminé were established players in the Portland scene, earthy R&B artist Blossom and inventive MC the Last Artful, Dodgr.

Acuay was watching that night. “It was so very Aminé. ‘I’m not going to do what everyone expects me to do.’ I was really proud of him. I remember thinking, he’s making us look good. He’s really holding it down for Portland right now.”

Publicly, “Go Aminé” is the party line in the Portland hip-hop scene, as well. But there is grumbling behind closed doors. A handful of artists and music scene staples contacted for this story declined to be interviewed about Aminé, or did not respond to requests. One artist formerly associated with Aminé indicated a reluctance to be seen as a hanger-on. A polite decline came from Nikolaus Popp, the prolific Portland director credited as the cinematographer and editor behind the “Caroline” video. Popp sent a somewhat cryptic statement: “Respect is everything in this world and that really goes for any human being. People will try to minimize you, but you always have to know your worth. Money doesn’t pay for respect, no matter the amount. It’s about how you treat people.”

In his first big national profile in the New York Times, Daniel used the phrase “super depressing” to describe his path through the Portland music scene, which the article’s author further characterized as “dead.” Aminé’s lyrical take on Portland has been bittersweet since his earliest songs. And on Good for You, he raps about coming home to find kids who bullied him calling him a hero. In the song “Turf,” he details the city’s gentrification in a mournful chorus: “I look around and I see nothing in my neighborhood / Not satisfied, don’t think I’ll ever wanna stay for good.” Another lyric speaks to those mixed emotions with even more clarity, and perhaps provides an explanation for the artist’s systematic eradication of the old Aminé: “I used to have dreams / Now I dream.”

I asked Vursatyl, one-third of the Portland crew Lifesavas—they released their debut, Spirit in Stone in 2003—if his group experienced a Portland backlash when they surfaced on the national radar. “The difference is we were really trudging it out in the local scene for a long time,” he says. “There were a lot of us trying hard to make it. Some of it was friendly competition, and some wasn’t. But everybody wanted to be the guy to put the city on the map.”

That city—before the gentrification of its North and Northeast quadrants—was a place where the black community was still somewhat centralized, and Aminé’s family home, off NE MLK and Dekum, sat at its heart. “There’s less of a sense of community now,” Vursatyl says. “And I think that, in the long term, Aminé would have benefited from what was the black community still being fully intact. He’s had an awesome journey and he’s doing great, but I feel like there’s a disconnect in terms of local pride in him. And you want that groundswell. You want to play to your base.”

But for Hernandez—who also booked Aminé’s first South by Southwest performance (“The whole showcase fell apart. It was a disaster, actually.”)—the fact that Aminé’s dreams were bigger than his hometown is exactly what made him stand out. “He didn’t make the rounds like other artists, but that’s OK,” she says. “He was building this full package for himself. He didn’t just focus on Portland. A lot of artists put themselves in a box, and that’s cool, but at some point you have to expand. I saw him expand at such an early point, and he’s still expanding.”

Where Aminé is expanding to is an open question. In interviews, he’s low-key and likable—the right mix of confident, humble, and self-deprecating. Critics praised Good for You as “honest” and “carefree.” Its impressive breadth spans from the floaty Frank Ocean-esque Auto-Tune ballad “Hero” to a curious diss track laid out over progressive, minimal electronic music, “STFU.” If anything, the album seems built—albeit on a solid pop-rap foundation—as a showcase for Aminé’s versatility in both sonic approach and personality. He’s a sensitive, brutally honest outcast on the molasses-slow “Sunday,” and a bitter ex-boyfriend on “Wedding Crashers.” Album closer “Beach Boy” spells out the MC’s thoughts on his own mutability: “Who knows what the future holds / I don’t, if the truth be told / They say play it safe, young soul / Fuck that, I’mma take control.”

Two years ago, taking control meant parting ways with Josh Hickman, now studying software development in Los Angeles and making music as a hobby. When he won an $18,000 scholarship for making a tutorial video about sampling, Hickman used a song he built for Aminé as the video’s source material. “I took it as a message from the universe or God that, hey, I got what I needed out of that situation,” he says. He hasn’t spoken to Daniel in years, he says, but he’s not bitter about the experience. “We had all these doubts,” he remembers. “We’d be in the studio just talking, saying, ‘Man, are we crazy?’ And it’s dope to see those doubts were unfounded.”

In October, Aminé posted a new video to YouTube, this time for his playful song “Spice Girl.” It hit one million views in three days. The video features a cameo from a childhood hero, from the first concert he ever attended: the Spice Girls’ Mel B. Like every artifact of Aminé’s newly rebooted career, the video is colorful, cinematic, and dreamlike.

The video also makes obvious what should have been clear all along: Aminé never had Portland dreams. He saw himself, a first-generation American-born citizen living in an unlikely corner of the country, playing Madison Square Garden. He saw himself in the company of stars.

Something familiar about the particular inflection Daniel gave the titular “Caroline” suggests she’s the same character André 3000 sang about 15 years ago, on Outkast’s smash-hit “Roses.” In Aminé’s later song “Veggies,” from his 2017 so-called “debut” album Good for You, he refers to himself as “André’s prodigy.” These tributes to the eccentric vocal genius and fashion icon who got every wedding party in America dancing to “Hey Ya” are rare signposts from an artist who seemed, to most fans, to “come out of nowhere.”

Just one year after he uploaded the “Caroline” video to YouTube, Daniel posted a street-corner selfie to Instagram. On the left, wide-eyed with his mouth forming a stunned “ooh,” is Aminé. On the right, Outkast’s André 3000.

Adam Daniel used to have dreams—now he dreams. And his most compelling characteristic seems to be that he’s living out his fantasies in the public sphere. But dreams, by their nature, are not collaborative. They are personal. One dream lived is always another deferred. It’s been clear from the moment “Caroline” hit YouTube that the skinny, gap-toothed kid in the front was going to stay there. It’s still anybody’s guess whom he’ll take with him.

[thebestintoronto]

Toronto - A Multicultural Treasure - Canada, February 2019

Welcome to Toronto, the most multiculturally diverse city on the planet, where more than 180 languages are spoken on a daily basis. A popular adage describes the city as "New York City run by the Swiss," and it's true—you can find world-class theater, underground tunnels, shopping and restaurants, the sidewalks are clean and the people are friendly. It's estimated that over half of Toronto's residents were born outside Canada and despite its complex makeup, Torontonians generally get along extremely well. When the weather is fine, Toronto is a blast: a vibrant, big-time city abuzz with activity. Some of the world's finest restaurants are found here, alongside happening bars and clubs and eclectic festivals. Yes, winter in Toronto can be a real drag, with things getting messy on the congested highways and crowded public transit system. But come here with patience, an open mind and even during frigid days and bone-chilling nights, you're bound to have a great time. There is a fresh international buzz about this city. Perhaps it's the influx of flush new residents from across the globe; or was it the Pan-Am Games that shone a spotlight on Toronto? Either way, this is a city that is waking up to its own greatness.

A little bit of history:

When Europeans first arrived at the site of present-day Toronto, the vicinity was inhabited by the Iroquois, who had displaced the Wyandot (Huron) people, occupants of the region for centuries. The name Toronto is likely derived from the Iroquoian word tkaronto, meaning "place where trees stand in the water". This refers to the northern end of what is now Lake Simcoe, where the Huron had planted tree saplings to corral fish. In the 1660s, the Iroquois established two villages within what is today Toronto. By 1701, the Mississauga had displaced the Iroquois, who abandoned the Toronto area at the end of the Beaver Wars, with most returning to their base in present-day New York. In the 17th century, the area was a crucial for travel, with the Humber and Rouge rivers providing a shortcut to the upper Great Lakes. These routes together were known as the Toronto Passage.

As a major destination for immigrants to Canada, the city grew rapidly through the remainder of the 19th century. The first significant wave of immigrants were Irish, fleeing the Great Irish Famine -the vast majority were Catholic. By 1851, the Irish-born population had become the largest single ethnic group in the city. For brief periods, Toronto was twice the capital of the united Province of Canada: first from 1849 to 1852, following unrest in Montreal, and later 1856 to 1858. After this date, Quebec was designated as the capital until 1866 (one year before Canadian Confederation). Since then, the capital of Canada has remained Ottawa, Ontario. Toronto became the capital of the province of Ontario after its official creation in 1867.

Following WWII, refugees from war-torn Europe and Chinese job-seekers arrived. Toronto's population grew to more than one million in 1951, when large-scale suburbanization began and doubled to two million by 1971. Following the elimination of racially based immigration policies by the late 1960s, Toronto became a destination for immigrants from all parts of the world. By the 1980s, Toronto had surpassed Montreal as Canada's most populous city and chief economic hub.

As is my usual practice, I’m taking up “residence” in a Hilton property – this time it’s the Doubletree on Chestnut Street in downtown. My red-eye flights via Detroit had me touching down at Pearson International by 10:30am, temperature was just 13f with a wind chill of -17f, heavy overcast skies and thick snowflakes beginning to float down to add to the existing accumulation on the runways. To say it was cold would be a vast understatement – my breath was a stream of white mist as I walked up the gangway from the plane into the terminal, shivering all the way. My arranged transfer to the hotel was via Jayride Shuttles, an excellent shuttle company I have used in the past. They are significantly cheaper than most transfer services to the city (I paid $35 USD for a one-way trip) and it can all be done online via their website. By noon I was checking into the Doubletree right in the heart of the entertainment center of Toronto – a 26-story building and my home-away-from-home for the next couple of weeks is on the 24th floor, overlooking the city center ice skating rink. A small room by my usual standards but very cozy, with a bay window affording sweeping views of the streets far below. The Wifi signal is always strong and stable and of course, numerous American/Canadian television channels to satisfy even me! After the redeye flights and having been awake for more than 39 hours, I was more than ready for a hot shower and a long afternoon nap – I can unpack and get settled in later.

My first morning in Toronto and I awoke to a fresh layer of snow blanketing the immediate area and glistening in the bright morning sunlight. Skaters are already zooming around the rink, wrapped up like Goodyear Tire Men from head to foot in thick coats, scarves, hats and gloves. Temperature was -9c with a wind chill of -13c…. that called for hot coffee and lots of it. After the standard hotel buffet breakfast (or “brekkie” as it’s known in Canada), I stopped by the front desk to collect a city street map and some sightseeing literature – now I’m ready to plan my 2-week stay. Thankfully I picked an ideal location to use as a base of operations – I’m in easy walking distance from just about everything and even though it means braving these crazy temps, I’m ready to take on the challenge of Toronto’s outdoors. I have my winter coat (only one I own), gloves, umbrella and even a scarf – only missing the requisite fur hat…..you can now refer to me as Nannoka of the North, bring on the blizzard…. LOL.

Just as I was debating whether to go out for dinner or eat in, the fire alarm went off in my room – so loud, it startled me out of a half doze. Then came an announcement that the fire department was its way to check out the problem. This lasted for almost 25 minutes with the alarm shrieking constantly, only halted temporarily when an updated announcement was made by hotel staff. Finally it was determined to be a false alarm and things seemed to return to normal – yeah right. By this time, I had made the decision to eat in so made my way to the elevators. Turns out when the alarm was triggered the elevators automatically stopped, and until a serviceman arrived to release them, they were not moving. I had a choice: either go hungry or hike down 24 flights of back service stairs……no contest, I’m headed for the lobby on the ankle express (aka hiking). If I hadn’t been hungry earlier, I had definitely worked up an appetite when I reached the ground floor. See how much fun can be had while traveling the globe…. certainly boggles the mind at times.

Hemispheres Restaurant and Bistro is the inhouse eatery on the lobby floor. Having opted to eat here this evening, I was pleasantly surprised at the menu options. I selected the pea soup puree with wasabi cream which, in spite of its name, tasted way better than it sounds. My entrée was a fantastic Bistro burger with smoked gouda cheese accompanied by sweet potato fries – a really fantastic dinner. Considering I was dining in a hotel restaurant the resulting $27 USD bill was reasonable, and the food was excellent. Thank all the gods on high the elevators had been released for service by this time, and I didn’t have to hike UP 24 flights – that was NOT on my list of things to do this evening!

In spite of my clothing preparations, my sightseeing plans went to hell in a hand basket when I opened the drapes the next morning to see light snow falling. That wouldn’t normally have stopped me, but what I heard on the local weather newscast did. The City had issued a severe cold temperature warning, along with a major storm announcement moving into the area tomorrow morning, along with a prediction for heavy snowfall, ice pellets, freezing rain and mercury readings I don’t even want to think about. Sand trucks are being readied for the upcoming blizzard, so being outside and exploring is out of the question for a day or so…. I’ll use this time to finalize upcoming trips and watch the snow drifts get higher and higher outside my windows.

I’m looking at the blizzard right now – make that a “whiteout” – swirling outside my windows….I awoke a couple of hours ago to relative calm and low temps. Promptly at 7:30am the predicted winter storm rolled into Toronto and it has been hell on wheels ever since. The order to close all city schools went out very early; except for the subway, city transportation is at a standstill; the airport has cancelled multiple flights, government employees are working from home, and yet there are people on the street walking their dogs! The winds are howling, blowing the snow in all directions building drifts against every available wall, and I have a front-row seat for all this excitement – how cool is that?

Unfortunately I missed one of the city’s most popular events by just one day…..Winterlicious, created by the city and held from January 25 to February 4. It featured delectable three-course prix fixe menus at nearly 200 participating restaurants and an eclectic culinary event series city-wide. Bad logistical planning on my part.

However I am in time and in town for another spectacular event: the Toronto Light Festival, now in its third year. Approximately 750,000 lights are used to create a magical experience that sees the area’s 50+ Victorian-era buildings surrounded by light sculptures and dazzling canopies. Here I’m on a new visual journey and imaginative cerebral adventure, designed to entertain and inspire. The Festival transforms this neighborhood into one of the largest open-air galleries in the world, lighting up the long winter nights with distinctive works from both local and international light artists. Formerly the home of Gooderham and Worts, which was once the largest distiller in the world, it is now a designed National Historic Site. A free event which runs thru March 2nd is located in the Distillery Historic District. This entire complex is a romantic, creative and pedestrian-only village, lined with cobblestone streets and endless galleries, restaurants, cafes and shopping boutiques.

Winter here offers something else for free, ice skating at the Evergreen Brick Works. The Don Valley Brick Works (aka the Evergreen Brick Works) is a former quarry and industrial site which operated for nearly 100 years, providing bricks used to construct many well-known Toronto landmarks. Since the closure of the original factory, the quarry has been converted into a city park which includes a series of naturalized ponds, while the buildings have been restored and opened as an environmentally-focused community and cultural center by Evergreen, a national charity dedicated to restoring nature in urban environments. The outdoor rink weaves thru snow-covered gardens under exposed beams of the old brick factory roof and is considered one of the most picturesque skating rinks in Toronto. Bring your own skates or rent a pair for $5 (USD $3.74). Open 10am-5pm Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays from December to March, with Winter Wednesdays from 5:30 to 9:30pm thru February 20th. These hours are always weather-dependent. My days on ice are long gone – I’m thankful to stand upright and walk without assistance these days - but it will be a great photo op and an interesting evening while I’m here, not to mention a chance to hoist a couple of hot buttered-rum toddies!

The most iconic (and definitely most visible) landmark in Toronto as to be the CN Tower measuring some 1,815’ high, making it the tallest structure in the western hemisphere. Located at 290 Bremner Boulevard, it provides numerous options for scoping out city views from three observation decks, with my favorite being the glass floor elevator watching the street get further and further away as you ride higher – certainly not for the faint hearted! The Skyped Observation Platform is the place to see Niagara and New York state on a clear day and for a really special meal, book a table at 360 Restaurant. This revolving eatery dishes up signature Canadian cuisine with a seasonally changing menu. Don’t even think of coming here without your camera – it’s the ultimate photo opportunity.

Known as the Castle on the Hill, Casa Loma took three years and $3.5M ($2.6M USD) to build. It’s owner, Sir Henry Pellatt, filled Casa Loma with priceless artwork from Canada and around the world. It stood as a monument to its creator – it surpassed any private home in North America and was once the largest private residence in Canada. With soaring battlements and secret passageways, it paid homage to the castles and knights of days gone by, and to this day it remains one of the only true castles on the North American continent. This grand estate features secret tunnels and doors, as well as colorfully lush gardens and very ornate details, like the family coat of arms on the library ceiling. Case Loma is also home to a historic-themed series of theatrical escape rooms, where guests can choose from 4 different games. Located at 1 Austin Terrace, you can find times, tickets and more information at escapecasealoma.com.

For the foodies in the crowd, St. Lawrence Market should be on your “must see” list when in town. Named by National Geographic Magazine as one of the world’s top food markets, it dates back to 1845 and features more than 120 vendors selling all manner of fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, fish, cheese and baked goods. No, you don’t have to be shopping for a rack of lamb to justify a visit: the market is also home to a variety of takeout food stalls. It is made up of three major markets: Farmer’s Market only open on Saturdays 5am to 3pm; Antiques Market only open on Sundays 5am to 5pm; and the main South Market open Tuesdays-Thursdays 8am to 6pm, Fridays 8am to 7pm, Saturdays 5am to 5pm and closed on Sundays. A big plus is the Market Gallery located on the second floor of the South Market. It’s home to rotating exhibits that chronicle Toronto’s unique history via photographs, maps, paintings and more. Located at 92-95 Front Street East, just a couple of blocks from the Distillery.

And of course you can’t visit Canada and not visit the Hockey Hall of Fame (Canadians LIVE for this game). Located at Brookfield Place, 30 Yonge Street in downtown, it’s Toronto’s tribute to the national obsession featuring memorabilia, displays and interactive games. Fans are invited to do their own play-by-play commentary on classic games in the TSN/RDS broadcast zone, tour a replica of the Canadiens dressing room, or test their skill and block shots from some of the game’s greatest shooters. Visitors can also have a photo op with the game’s ultimate hardware: the Stanley Cup. There’s a new permanent exhibit here - The Mask - which chronicles the evolution of goalie masks as a means of protection and self-expression. Currently there are 90 masks on display.

Toronto boasts some of the best museums, including The Royal Ontario, Museum of Illusions, Gardiner Museum, Gibson House, Aga Khan, Museum of Contemporary Art and others. It also has numerous shopping centers and malls, the best known being the CF Toronto Easton Centre located downtown at 20 Yonge Street. One of the busiest malls in North America, it offers more than 250 shops, services and restaurants under its roof. An elevated pedestrian bridge over Queen Street connects to the flagship Hudson’s Bay department store and Saks Fifth Avenue across the street. Not being a shopaholic in even the vaguest sense of the word, you won’t find me anywhere near a mall 99% of the time, but this place is worth a visit if only to gawp with stunned reactions, at the price tags on the haute couture at design houses such as Balmain, Dior, Givenchy, Rodarte and Jason Wu (a favorite of Michelle Obama). Do people really buy stuff with that many numbers after the dollar sign? Evidently they do – enough to give both me and my credit card heart attacks.

Just 90 miles south of Toronto across Lake Ontario is a natural wonder of the world - Niagara Falls. I have visited it previously in summer and winter seasons many years ago – I think the most dramatic of all is right now, slap in the middle of February and during one of the coldest winters we have experienced in decades. During my sightseeing planning session on day one, I found a fantastic combo deal online via City Sightseeing Tours which, for a grand total of just under $80 USD, gets me not only my favorite HOHO 2-day unlimited-use bus ticket to explore Toronto, but also a full day tour to the Falls. I’m booked for Valentine’s Day and expecting it to be a frozen winter wonderland from start to finish.

The tour coach arrived some 20 minutes late, due to rush hour traffic and the ever-present construction sites, but finally around 10am all 35 tourists were onboard, and we made our way out of the city. It’s about an hour and a half drive to reach the Falls, paralleling Lake Ontario and passing thru the towns of Mississauga and Hamilton. The weather was holding well, and the sun actually made an appearance just before we reached Niagara. Yes, it was a winter wonderland with the thundering Falls throwing mist hundreds of feet into the air, much of which falls as frozen rain on surrounding rocks and embankments. This frozen mist builds up layer upon layer on virtually any available surface, until the entire area becomes a surreal landscape of sparkling snow, blue/white ice, and when accompanied by the most brilliant turquoise green water of the rushing Niagara River…..well, this place is simply stunning. The verdant green color of the water is a byproduct of the estimated 60 tons every minute of dissolved salts and "rock flour" (very finely ground rock) generated by the erosive force of the river itself. It’s something to see in summer time, but nothing compares with being here in the dead of winter. Niagara Falls is the collective name for three waterfalls (Horseshoe Falls, American Falls, and Bridal Veil Falls) that straddle the international border between the Canadian province of Ontario and the US state of New York, forming the southern end of the Niagara Gorge. The American Falls usually appear to be more “frozen” than the Horseshoe Falls because they only receive about 7% of the Niagara River flow. With less water cascading over these Falls, there is a greater opportunity for ice buildup. Superlatives are not in short supply here: the cumulative output of the falls is the highest of any falls in the world, with Horseshoe Falls being the most powerful on the North American continent. In the dawn of the automotive age, Niagara Falls was the top honeymoon and summer vacation destination and even though it no longer has that claim to fame, it still attracts millions of tourists every year.

There has only been one occurrence where the flow of Niagara Falls has been stopped due to a freeze-up which actually happened on March 29, 1848. After an extremely cold winter, the thick ice of Lake Erie began to break up during a duration of warm weather. Followed by a strong eastward wind, this caused the ice to form in the mouth of the Niagara River which then caused a blockage of water from flowing down towards the Horseshoe Falls. When water comes crashing down over the Falls into the rocks below, it causes it to turn solid and form what is known as “The Ice Bridge” connecting the American side to the Canadian Side. Many years ago, the Ice Bridge was a popular tourist attraction as visitors would gather on the bridge and admire the beauty that the cold winter weather had created. Both Canadian and American visitors would gather to walk on the bridge, where they could enjoy fresh food and beverages as some entrepreneurs set up concession stands during these cold times. That was all until an unfortunate disaster occurred on February 4, 1912 when the bridge broke off and caused three people to drift down the river to their death. Ever since this incident occurred, walking on the Ice Bridge is forbidden. For the majority of winters the Falls are known to partially freeze, although the Falls never entirely freeze-up on the waterfall or in the Niagara River. Notable years for the Falls displaying this icing up are 1885, 1902, 1906, 1911, 1932, 1936, 2014, and 2017. The illusion of the falls freezing completely is due to the outer part of the falls creating a buildup of ice, but underneath that outer shell, the water is continuously flowing down the Falls at a constant rate.

I had a couple of hours to explore, take photographs and grab a bowl of hot spicy chili for lunch at a nearby restaurant. It was too cold to spend a lot of time out of doors, but I had a great viewing spot from the second floor of the restaurant building and was able to take some stunning pictures. From here it’s a short drive to our next stop, Niagara-on-the-Lake, and there’s something about this town that makes you want to linger. The heritage district here is made for walking, with its boutique shops, cast-iron planters and horse-drawn carriages transporting riders to another time and place. It’s Victorian-era 19th century is charm personified, and you could easily transplant the entire town and set it down anywhere in New England, where it would blend in perfectly. Located at the point where the Niagara River flows into Lake Ontario, it is the only town in Canada with a Lord Mayor. The permanent population is about 18,000 residents.

Besides the obvious attraction of Niagara Falls, there are many other distinct historic sites in the area that educate tourists about the significance that the region served in shaping Canada to what it is today. The War of 1812 was a turning point in Niagara Falls history, when the fledgling United States army fought British Loyalists for the new lands that would become Canada. From Fort Erie to Niagara-on-the-Lake, it’s possible to visit the past, carefully restored and recreated. At Old Fort Erie, authentically dressed guides in 1812 period costume, recreate life in this former British garrison, including daily musket demonstrations and the annual Siege of Old Fort Erie Re-enactment. Fort Erie was also an entry point for freedom-seeking black slaves escaping persecution in the U.S. The point of entry into Canada from Buffalo, was known as “The Crossing” and is the start of the Freedom Trail - part of the Underground Railroad. There are innumerable stops for those interested in the history of the area, including Brock’s Monument, a tribute to the British General who lost his life at the Battle of Queenston in 1812.The Daredevil Exhibit at the IMAX theatre showcases real artifacts from daredevils that survived the plunge, and along with the all the stories to go with how each daredevil attempted the treacherous stunt of plummeting down the Falls. The Museum is where visitors can explore the history that changed a nation with real artifacts, images, videos and interactive experiences designed to deliver full exposure to historic events in the region. The Niagara Falls Gallery provides visitors with an opportunity to experience the history of the iconic Falls from the geological creation of the Falls to the daredevils that tested the ferocious capability of nature.

Our final stop before heading back to Toronto, was at the Niagara College Teaching Distillery located in the heart of Niagara’s wine country - its claim to fame is producing ice wine. It takes 4 times as many frozen grapes to produce it compared to regular wines and is sweet enough to make you gag…..not my idea of wine drinking at all, but it is an acquired taste. 40 students each year are selected for the college course and are taught everything from A to Z about making wine. Graduation from this college gives students multiple employment opportunities, especially in the hospitality industries.

During my stay in Toronto, the weather pendulum has swung from one extreme to the other. I have seen sunlight, snow blizzards, ice storms and ferocious winds, sometimes all in one day! Temperatures have rarely risen above freezing and are usually well below that but surprisingly, I have enjoyed the craziness of it all. This is a great town to explore, even if I’ve had to negotiate snow drifts on the sidewalks, handle ice pellets bouncing off my umbrella, and figure out where I am when caught in a “whiteout” …..such is life for a road warrior.

The post “ Toronto - A Multicultural Treasure - Canada, February 2019 “ was originally seen on Travel Blog

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[stripdownforamoment]

WEEK 19_ SKIN

London, 5 March 2019

This week there were some complications with the model's schedules and the photoshoots. Therefore, I have to rearrange my last shoot for next week and completely change the model. It was supposed to be a dance student from MDX and I now managed to work out a replacement with Wilson from our course- Illustration. Also, I just had to cut off some people completely from my cast because they could not do it this or next week and it the process was just extending itself too much. My focus now is to just finish this final shoot with Wilson to then finalize all my post. Review them and transcribe all the interviews, so then I can, at last, work on the photo and video editing and get to print and layout all my work.

This weeks theme -SKIN- ties up with both the model interview and with the artist interview. Ella talks about skin care as a beauty ideal in Asian culture and Sophie is a tattoo artist her self, as well as designing my first ever tattoo.  We will also get some insight into that project and learn a bit about her ideas on the topic of body image.

I would like to mention as well something related to my prosses with the reading analyses. In the past couple of week, it became apparent to me that I would need to put less time and detail into my analyses. I don't mean in any way to say that this part of my research is less important. However, I came to the realisation that in order for me to end all my post in time and have enough time to work on the practical side of the project, I would have to prioritise the interviews I am producing and the photoshoots. I will still write about the reading, to the best of my abilities, but expect less detailed analyses of the text itself. I will be commenting on the present themes in the context of my project.

            STRIP DOWN FOR A MOMENT with Ella Liu

As always I ask what is the models favourite body part, as she replied with " I don't know, I do like my air and my belly button".

*Image had to be removed*

"I would probably say my butt is the part of my body I struggle the most with. Because I don’t have a one." laughs.

" and I have stretch marks in my butt as well. I don’t mind showing it in this shoot because I know it’s the main goal of the project. But yeah, that would be the body part I am the lest confident with".

I agreed with Ella. It is very much the goal of the project to show or "flaws" things we are not comfortable with and allowing this yourself to stip down and open up. She goes on to say:

"When I was little, and till today, I was just a very small and skinny person. When you are a child you don’t care about stretch marks or not having a but. As you grow up you get aware of that. Media - or social media- and even the people in your life both forces responsible for shaping the way you think. They tell you what is perfect and what you should look like".

Ella explains, “ I would like to have a bigger bum, I think it would make the clothes look nicer. But also, it's considered attractive". She does express that in her opinion,  comments from people on her appearance are not necessarily a bad thing. “I don’t get offended because it shows a sign of love. Shows that people care about my health and well being. It shows that they have noticed a change in me. I know people get offended by comments about weight or appearance but I appreciate it“. “I think I look like a stickman  I have always been told that I am SKINNY and need to gain weight. But is not very a concern anymore, I think I am slightly chubby now".

Ella then explained that different regions from Asia have different beauty standards. But in China's “mainland”, specifically where she is from, -Benjamin- people don’t like "skinny skinny". "Is more about the shape". "They don’t mind your size specifically, but there are a lot of body trends".

She then tells me about this “leg trend” where you want to have straight smooth and long legs. She talks about the "thigh gap trend". The ideals of how a woman should look. She explains how it is truly desirable to obtain these trades. But Ella explains also, that "they don’t focus on butts or boobs as Western culture does. It not a very common trade anyways with Asian genetics". So people focus on other things like "the shape of your jawline, or collarbone, your hands…” "People focus on the tiniest thing!”

*Image had to be removed*

We then talked a bit about different beauty standards around the world. I shared that in Portugal makeup was not "a big thing" in the same way it is here in the UK or the US. It is becoming more popular now with all the Western trends from social media and Youtube. But, I recall many times back home,  people commenting on me wearing “too much makeup”. I think in Portugal it comes perhaps from a conservative religious mindset. There is this idea that wearing vibrant makeup is provocative and sexy. And Ella tells me she thinks in China is related to this idea of natural beauty. Skincare is very appreciated and the goal is to look fresh and youthful.

So, in contrast, I would say that in Portugal it is completely acceptable to wear foundation and things that are not very colourfull- like red lips and bold colours. As in China, the idea of covering your natural skin is what is less appreciated.

We talk about an instant when I was modelling for her. Ella is a photography student that I have collaborated with before. One day I had very bad skin for a photo shoot. That day we talked a bit about and how people, in general, should stop being so concerned if it's such a normal and natural thing to happen. I asked "Why do people still covering or editing this banish so much? If we know it's not the truth to be always perfect". Something that stuck in my head was how Ella explained to me that that’s just natural in humans because smoother skins usually mean a healthy body. She didn’t mean it in a negative way. Although there are some exceptions from people that are pron acne, it is true that stress and unhealthy eating habits contribute to pimples and less good skin.

That day "You said people should accept the way they are. And I say it's understandable for people to wear makeup and edit themselves or do plastic surgery because they want the best. I see where they are coming from" Ella recalls.

"Also, a lot of the times people get criticised by society by the way they look. But is good to learn how to live with what you have".

"In my culture, I feel like looks aren’t much of a thing, but then if you have a spot or a pimple or any like an allergic reaction in your face people really notice it. They will point it at you, ask if you are ok, like its some kinda disease or problem."

She tells me about her acne and how it is uncommon in her family to have “bad skin”. She grew up here in the UK and "it is not a big deal ". People have a better understanding and don’t comment a lot. But whenever she goes back to China to see her family "is a big thing and they really notice it a lot". But again she things it can be positive because it shows care and although people approach it to fix the problem the results are ultimately good. Back in England, she does that same with her friends and they help each other with skins tips and experience. “Sharing is Caring”.

* Image had to be removed*

Then she adds on to talk about the topic of skin, specifically SKIN COLOUR. In Asian culture, lighter skin is highly appreciated and wanted. “Pale smooth skin complements dark shiny hair”. Tanned yellow skin “ I think is a beautiful colour”. She does not understand this concept that lighter skin means CLEANER SKIN, something that is thought to be true in Asian culture. "Dark skin and tan skin is beautiful. The tan trend is getting to Asian counties finally".

Ella then goes on to tell us that “This is one topic I really hate. Because you like specific skin colour, it doesn’t mean you are westernising yourself! It´s true that in China girls try to be as pale as possible with skin protection or even wearing lighter foundation ar times".

"Here in England, I had this conversation with teachers and peers. They think girls are trying to look white, like western white, because of the modifications they do to herself.  People believe that Asians are trying to somehow transform into white people". "This is the thing I get really offended about. If you get a tan you are not trying to be black. But then people think Asians have a western beauty standard. I think is crazy and smallminded to think this way.”

“ I wish Chinese people could love their natural skin colour I think or yellowish skin is beautiful and it looks healthy. People just don’t see that and it's sad”.

Ella, although expressing some insecurities, had a positive attitude throughout the conversation. To conclude I wanted to understand where her insecurities come from.  She explains it comes mainly from her self and then she tells me how as a photography student it common practice to model to one another and is in those pictures that she notices some of her insecurities.

“In this high-resolution cameras, you can zoom in and see how your face looked like. Every detail. My pores are big, my eyebrows are so bad, split end in my hair. I look flat, I have no butt I have no boobs and my skin is dry. It's just all sorts of concerns”.  

She explains, when we look in the mirror we seem to always look better than in photos because “when we look in the mirror we are not actually seeing our selfs” you just see this one perspective of yourself. Depending on how you shoot your self and the lighting you can really make it look different- manipulation of appearance.

“ I would never trust pictures completely. Photography is always affected by all sorts of things”

            ARTIST INTERVIEW striping Sophie McPike work

Sophie McPike is an Australian artist an illustrator. I came across her art many years ago on Instagram. I am truly inspired by her work and style. A couple of years ago I decided to contact her to create a design for my first tattoo. In her work, we see a lot of beautiful curvy female figures and I thought this was perfect for my concept.

In an early stage of the design development I sent her an email that reads: "The main point of the design would be to incorporate one of your character/girls design surrounded by the flower designs you so beautifully creat. I love them. I would also like to add to the design of a traditional Portuguese element called " Coração de Viana". It is a typical Portuguese symbol used in jewellery and adornment. It's a representation of a heart and, in this tattoo, I want it so symbolize self-love. Besides my preference for a black linework piece, the rest it's up to you. I trust you as an artist. I love how you create great shapes and compositions so what is one of the reasons why I would love you to design my first tattoo".

I can proudly say I have a marvellous piece or Sophie's work in my own body. We still kept some contact with which is a privilege to me as such a big admirer and fan of her work. And recently, I thought about contacting her for this project. I was planning to do this post about skin and talk about my tattoo. I think it's very appropriate to have a little interview with Sophie and let you guys know about her though on body image and how it related to her work.

"Being a woman, a curvy woman, I have had a lifetime of being told that my body isn't beautiful or desirable or enjoyable to look at by media and whatnot. Not to mention a deeply ingrained shame that has lasted generations.

For me, loving my body is a daily struggle. I needed to change my mind as soon as a thought pops into my head. A way I have discovered how to combat these thoughts is to just draw women who look more like me - and to draw them in a way that elicits a sense of joy rather than shame. I believe that representation is so important - seeing work that I feel represents me and makes me feel less alone is so important for my mind. And how wonderful those other women can look at my work and feel support, acceptance and self-love - that is just the most wonderful icing on the cake! What first started as a way for me to diarise and communicate my feelings has ended up instilling a feeling of self-love in women across the globe, just makes me so proud and happy" _Sophie McPike.

            READINGS

For this week´s post, I tried to tie in three different texts to the best of my ability.  Bellow, you can read a short analysis of each piece.

BODIES  by Susie Orbach

In this book, the author talks about how we are constantly bombarded with add, or emails, or other forms of media with the intent to make us want to change our bodies. To consume products that promise will make us better . Susie asks "but why is that ?".

She then says in little girls online games “ they are being primed to be teenagers who will dream of new thighs, noses or breasts as they pursue magazines which display page after page of a look that only ten years ago had the power to evoke horror". At the same time, this is the society that promotes obesity. To then convince you to get thin again “ your body is a canvas to be fixed". She explains that our  "consumerist government" lives from this insecurity and from the money spent in the industries.

The text addressed a lot of this insecurity in our appearance and relate it to body modification and consumerism.  Topics that affect people throughout their entire lives.

She then talks about how looking around different parts of the world and the many “bodily gestures and decorations” and how bodies have always been an expression of time geography religion and culture. People always wanted to change and improve themselves. Decorating faces, lengthening necks, tattooing, binding girls feet painting fingernails. It was always a human thing to change even before the media. Show superiority and that we are evolved. Before it might have shown devotion to a certain religion or culture or even status. But now is a way to create insecurity and cash out.

FAT IS A FEMINIST ISSUE by Susie Orbach

The self-entitled,  anti-diet guide to permanent weight loss, is a very extensive text about eating disorder- in its very core.

I found it very hard to engage and I didn´t like its style that much. Which, to be frank,  I found weird because I share similar ideas with the text. However, maybe it’s the way it's presented with such bold statements that made me a bit repulsive to the content.

"What is fat about for the compulsive eater?" Pages 36 to 103.  I didn´t read the full chapter but I gave it a thorough reading. Once again, maybe I was just overworking my self with so many reading but I found this text not that interesting. For example, I engaged better with Susie Orbach other book BODIES for some reason. I think the format was easier to consume in the other book and the topic overall interested me the most out of the three readings. The theme was also, not as directly related to my topic as it was in BODIES. This was mainly about eating disorders and mental health and at this point, my project took a turn into IDENTITY so this theme felt a bit out of my comfort zone.

UNBEARABLE WEIGHT by Susan Bordo

The book by Susan Bordo felt to me, once again, very extensive. especially in the Introduction which was the part, I focused more into. This time the language was very advanced and at times even poetic. With made some points harder to understand and I would have to re-read it over and over. The text felt not completely clear to me.

It focused mainly on the feminist ideals and interpretations of the western culture and the way the body is used and portraited.  It talks about the "cultural expression of mind-body dualism". We seen this topic in other readings and artists work.  One of my previous reading talked about the classical idea of identity and how it was more spiritual, as the modern identity seams to be more physical.

The author examines the poem "heavy bear" by Delmore Schwartz. It explains that "this piece captures the dualism that is characteristic of western philosophy and theology". The poetry analyses was a bit too hard to engage for me. I struggled with all these complex terms and language. Perhaps because English is not the first language the text felt maybe too advanced for me. Also, very it felt extensive what makes it even harder to understand because it's not straight to the point.

Then the book talks about beauty ideals and the way women's bodies are used in society as an object. Also, Susan writes about gender and gender roles and society. I stopped there. I tried to further read it but because at the language, it was very hard for me. I was challenging my self to pursue with this reading but ultimately I realised it was unrealistic for me to real such extensive and complex text.  We do have a deadline for this project and I needed to move on to other texts.

                                             REFERENCES

Bordo, S. and Heywood, L. (2009). Unbearable weight. Berkeley, Calif.: University California Press.

Orbach, S. (2013). Bodies. New York: Picador.

Orbach, S. (1984). Fat is a feminist issue. London: Arrow Books.

[itsmultifaceted-blog]

The Ghana Saga / Revealed.

LONG POST* you’ve been warned :). 

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On May 12th, 2016, I travelled to Ghana with Projects Abroad for my internship for the Child and Youth program at Humber. I was there for 14 weeks and spent my time at an orphanage/school called Trinity Home Academy, working with pre-school kindergarten aged children. I had a strong desire to go to Ghana because since I had begun college, I had a secret hope to one day work in Ghana with their children, and implement a care system there (for orphans, children who lacked care) after I graduated. I was hoping that with this experience, it would open my eyes to my future work field, and give me ideas as to how I would go about it.

It was not what I expected.  At all. It was hard. It was challenging. But not because of the work necessarily - but how I was treated. And having my eyes opened to some ugly, unfortunate truths. 

Coming back home after 91 days, what I found most challenging was responding to everyone’s “So.....how was it?!” questions. It’s funny, because just before I went, I had a friend who travelled to Thailand for 4 months and explained how coming back was slightly odd, to see how everyone had moved on, while she had this amazing experience. I have another friend who lived in New Zealand for an entire YEAR at 16, and she explained a similar struggle - of coming back to everything being the exact same while she was this completely different person. While I feared this for myself, this was far from my actual reality. I have great (but also problematic) defence mechanisms that help to prevent me from feeling sad or “left out” I guess... but coming back, I wanted everyone to forget as though I had even gone. I didn’t want people to ask about it, I just wanted to seamlessly come back, with my experiences muted in the back of my mind. 

I guess I should start describing what I was anticipating for the trip, I suppose. To begin, I was super anxious. I had never traveled this far, yet alone by myself. I had never been away for so long. I had no idea what to expect and I had low, low confidence in my ability to make effective change. However, I was really hoping that I would be going to Ghana with the advantage that I’m first generation Ghanaian, and that would make me relatable. I knew that I was going there humbled - I wasn’t going there to save lives and have this incredible life changing experience... I was going to help. I was going to be an extra set of hands. I was going to learn more of where my parents grew up; my background, more of another culture I was raised by, and the Ghanaians would be giving me more than I could ever give them. 

When I had arrived, naturally, I felt pretty welcomed. I was living in the Akuapem Region, in a small town called Mamfe. My host family was initially very friendly. The Project’s Abroad staff; also friendly. Once I set foot into the school I was working in, I was shocked at the lack of structure and overwhelmed with how I alone was going to make much of a difference. (Regardless of this, highly commendable school, since the headmistress had opened it in an area that is difficult to access school otherwise. HUGE kudos to her). Moving forward, there were a bunch of 3-5-year-olds running around, and even a couple of 1-year-olds hanging out. Me being the novelty volunteer that the children get every now and then, so that caught their attention and their obedience. For a short. Time. 

Moving forward though, the novelty that I had was a lot different from what the other volunteers had to offer. It took me a few weeks to realize that. And what had set me apart from a majority of the volunteers was that I was not white. The children and even a few adults had a hard time understanding what I was. I looked like them, but sounded nothing like them. I didn’t walk like them, I didn’t dress like them, I didn’t have their mannerisms. So while I was not Ghanaian... I wasn’t white either. So really, I quickly became nothing: to both the children and even teachers. While I was at the school for 40 hours a week, I steadily declined from novelty to for lack of a better word, lackey. My efforts - even extended efforts were grossly overlooked and even expected at times. This was not the same for my white counterpart. And my days looked a lot different when she was not around.

In regards to the staff, (with exclusion to one I made friends with), they all would disregard my presence, unless my friend and co-volunteer from Denmark were around. All of a sudden, I was visible. It became hurtful, and hard not to take personally. The kids never really listened to no one other than their teachers (which is understandable, they are of the same culture and they would hold more trust in them than these revolving strangers), but what became hurtful was when I actively advocated for these kids and I still received loads of disrespect. I know they’re young, but I still had felt very hurt. 

When I was outside of the school, I had similar reactions from locals. Taxi drivers wouldn’t look twice at me until they heard my Canadian accent (but then, of course, I was charged twice the amount of the original cost). Store owners heard my accent and didn’t understand what I was and dismissively passed me off. When I finally received attention from one, she had asked me desperately “those white people you walk around with...how do I get them to be my friend??” and I was heartbroken. For her. I told her to just say hi, and that they are humans like us, but she wasn’t hearing it.  On top of this, it most definitely did not help seeing bleaching/lightening cream and hair perm advertisements virtually EVERYWHERE, continuously perpetuating a European standard of beauty. 

While I maintained a positive, perseverant spirit, by late July I had officially burnt out. I could no longer hide how I felt, and I grew to be sad, exhausted, angry, bitter. Not with the Ghanaians, not with the kids, but with white people. I am aware of the fact that in the 1830s, Britain colonized Ghana, as well as many African countries. With colonization came a heavy imparting of their values, their traditions, their practices. These were the same people involved with trading Ghanaians as slaves to North America. Mind you, this invasion of Britain was not welcomed by the Ghanaians, as their traditional rulers didn’t passively watch their culture and sovereignty being trampled upon (Boahen, 2004).

While Ghana finally became emancipated of this by 1957, the centuries of their hostile takeover had left a lasting impact that continues today - including the perspective that white people are better/superior. Considering the driving force behind colonization includes the belief that the countries being colonized lack civilization, are savages and are culturally inferior (Donkor, 2005). That mentality cannot be shaken off in 60 years of Ghanaian independence, ESPECIALLY when voluntourism groups like Projects Abroad continue to funnel a majority of white volunteers who are imparting their “wisdom” and “better practices,” which for the most part are Western methods of doing things. Furthermore, the volunteers I was with were there for 2-3 weeks on average. In implementing effective change, long-term assistance is far more beneficial, especially when there are attempts to reform education, to see improvements in the children’s reading and identifying shapes and colours and numbers... 

To me, it appeared that the experience advantaged the volunteers FAR more than the Ghanaians. They got to explore “Africa” and try different foods and take pictures of little black babies and go home while doing very little to no change, especially since follow-up on how the children are progressing is extremely poor, and this cycle continues. There were efforts to follow up on the progress of the kids on computer databases, but they were poorly kept up with. While YES, they have good intentions of teachings that should be heeded to globally (like sanitation, literacy, etc.), but what is far more important is who is teaching these things. 

Hear me out. Give me a few moments before I explain.

When I came home a year ago TODAY, I had no idea how to swallow all of this. I was returning to a white family who I love and adore - but... how? I was left with the resolution that these programs reinforce colonization essentially and that I’m not in love with white people travelling to these countries to “impact others and be impacted themselves,” when REALLY, they just wanted a cute Instagram caption to show their “worldliness”. Super harsh, super judgemental... I know. It’s how I felt though. I was very raw, very angry, and with that realization (and other life factors), I fell into a pretty deep depression. 

I had come to realize that my dream job is going up against hundreds of years of a mentality that views me as less as much as they may view themselves. I am not escaping this reality in my home country either - since black people here are still treated as such! Overt AND covert racism is still here and CAN stand in my way towards future professions. The reality is that white people still prevail in a majority of upper management/higher level education jobs, and my race is a barrier to achieving that - no matter HOW hard I work. Yes, obviously there are exceptions, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are possibilities that they either had to work incredulously hard or are privileged to a sort. 

It didn’t help that this was the summer of the fatal shootings of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling either. 

http://www.cnn.com/2017/06/20/us/philando-castile-shooting-dashcam/index.html 

http://www.cnn.com/2017/05/03/us/alton-sterling-doj-death-investigation/index.html

On top of that, an INCREDIBLE documentary called 13TH by Ava DuVernay documents essentially how the US economy benefits from imprisoning black men. (a definite watch... it’s available on Netflix).

A year later though, finally, I am not as angry. Still angry, just not as aggressively. Through conversations with my mother figure (who as aforementioned, is white), and faculty from school who have been teaching me about colonization and globalization and such, I’ve come to an understanding that yes, voluntourism does reinforce colonization. Does that mean white people should stop travelling to these countries to help people? Not necessarily. 

Intentions do count. They’re not enough, but they count, So if non-people of colour and even black Canadians/Americans who want to do these opportunities (because being born in the Western-hemisphere, we still do uphold a privilege), I recommend the following to prevent reconstituting a process that continues to undermine the race of people: 

Research into the organizations that you want to travel with. 

Who created them? (Yes, it matters). The people who they wish to help... have they even requested this need? Where is your money going to? How is it being spent?? If you can’t find a linear answer to this, reconsider the organization. 

It is worthwhile to keep searching.

Reading blog posts like mine - it’s natural to want to be defensive. Don’t be. 

It is not about you. The reality is that there are a group of people on the planet that are highly advantaged as opposed to the rest of us. It is what it is. If you really want to make a difference? Listen to the voices of those who are oppressed. Look at it from theirs and from my point of view. And follow suit. 

It’s nice that you want to help, but your actions in helping can be more detrimental. Still don't understand? Reread my colonization bit, or look up what colonization is

The immediate video below has disturbing images and language. Minimize and listen if the images might bother you. 

Are you a proactive ally about the black people/people of colour in this country?

Do you understand the premise of Black Lives Matter? Do you fully understand the struggles of Black Canadians/Black Americans/people of colour? If not, learn about it - or reconsider going to a country that’s full of coloured people. 

Allyship is about recognizing your own privilege, listening to the voices of the oppressed and advocating WITH and not FOR them. Again, I myself in that trip upheld a PRIVILEGE coming from a Western Country. I recognize that and I am aware of the error of my mistakes. 

Learn. The name. Of the country. You’re going to. 

unless you’re spending like a year in 56 countries because you’re bout that money, I doubt you’re going to “Africa”. When you go to the United States, you’re not going to “North America”. 

In using the blanket statement “I’m going to Africa”, there is the underhanded connotation that this continent is full of a homogenous group of people. This is false and prejudices because 56 different nations couldn’t all possibly be the same. Or even similar. We’re a diverse group of people. Assuming that we’re all the same is wrong. 

In going to Europe, Italy and Spain are NOT the same. It’s the same with Africa. Nigeria and Ghana... not. the. same. 

At the root of it all, it’s about love. 

patient 

kind 

not envious, boastful, arrogant or rude

does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in TRUTH

bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things

it never fails (1 Corinthians 13:4-13) 

it’s not self-serving, but rather it wishes to serve others. really delve into truth and make sure your intentions are in their best interests. 

I do not have all the answers! I really don’t. I’ve only been back a year and I’m still learning. If you took this as a white-bashing post, please re-read everything again. And hit me up for follow-up discussion. This is 100% not done with that intention. 

I mean everything that I’ve said with the utmost respect. While this trip wasn’t what I expected, I know it was not done in vain. I hope that my experiences are eye-opening to someone and that we can stop recolonizing and actually make effective and positive change. 

It includes me. It includes you. 

- danielle.

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Boahen, A. A., & BOAHEN, A. A. (2004). Ghana (Republic of): Colonization and resistance, 1875-1901. In K. Shillington (Ed.), Encyclopedia of African history. London, UK: Routledge. Retrieved from http://ezproxy.humber.ca/login?url=http://search.credoreference.com/content/entry/routafricanhistory/ghana_republic_of_colonization_and_resistance_1875_1901/0?institutionId=1430 

Donkor, M. (2005). Marching to the tune: Colonization, globalization, immigration, and the ghanaian diaspora. Africa Today, 52(1), 26-145. doi:10.2979/AFT.2005.52.1.26

[globalworship]

RIP David Lewiston, early ‘world music’ producer

If you ever listen to 'ethnic music recordings,' you owe a debt to this man who recently died, though you may not know it. "The inveterate traveler-musicologist  David Lewiston was among the first to release recordings as part of the Nonesuch Explorer Series, which presented indigenous music from around the world, in the late 1960s." These recordings shaped the 'global music listening' of millions of us. All subsequent recording engineers in difficult places stand on his shoulders.

He released nearly 30 LP albums in the Nonesuch Explorer Series, and later released more albums on several other labels. These LPs were what whetted my interest for global musics - every week in the 1980s I would go to the public library and check out a dozen LPs of music from around the world, Next week, do it again .... over and over for several years. Probably most of my trips included at least one of the albums that David produced. I can credit his albums with directly influencing my interest, and eventual graduate studies, in ethnomusicology.... and my eventual roles in ethnodoxology.

I never met him, but his recordings opened up a literal ‘world of music’ to me and countless others, for which I remain grateful.

Here are some excerpts from two lengthy tributes to him.

First, from https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/31/arts/music/david-lewiston-dead-discoverer-of-world-music.html?_r=0

David Lewiston, whose recordings for Nonesuch records, beginning in the late 1960s, brought the indigenous music of Bali, Tibet, Guatemala and other ports of call to the ears of adventurous listeners, died on Monday in Wailuku, Hawaii. He was 88 ...

For decades, Mr. Lewiston, a classically trained pianist, roamed the four corners of the earth with tape recorder in hand, seeking out Tantric Buddhist chants in Tibet, festival music in Oaxaca, Mexico, the kecak monkey chant of Bali, the panpipe music of Peru.

He listened and recorded, not as an ethnomusicologist, but as an enthusiast. The dozens of albums he made for the Nonesuch Explorer series reflected his conviction that music was meant to be enjoyed rather than analyzed.

Listeners responded. At a time when FM radio was venturing into experimental territory and the counterculture began tuning in to non-Western cultures, Mr. Lewiston’s musical reports found an eager audience. His first recording for Nonesuch, devoted to the gamelan, the traditional percussion orchestra of Indonesia, sold surprisingly well. “Music From the Morning of the World: The Balinese Gamelan,” released in 1967, was followed by “Golden Rain,” which devoted an entire side to the Balinese kecak, or monkey chant, in which a male chorus intoned the percussive syllable “chak” in a mounting frenzy. [Hear the 20-minute recording below.]

“That was something unheard-of at that time, for a record company to devote a whole LP side to an uncut excerpt of a non-Western style,” Mr. Lewiston said in an interview for the web publication Roots World in 2000. On the radio station WBAI in New York, he recalled, the late-night D.J. would say “O.K., light that joint, here it comes!” and play side two of “Golden Rain.”

In the years that followed, Mr. Lewiston, who liked to call himself a “musical tourist,” delivered music from South America, Mexico and Kashmir. He traveled the highlands of western Tibet and the tribal regions of Pakistan. No sound was alien to him...

The album cover for “Golden Rain.” Nonesuch Records

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In 1966, he set out for Bali, carrying two borrowed microphones and a Japanese tape recorder — one of the first battery-operated models — that he bought on a stopover in Singapore.

“It really was as vague as all that,” he told an audience at the Rubin Museum in Manhattan in 2006. “I stumbled into it. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t have a career in mind. It was an adventure.” ...

The journey went on and on. He accumulated hundreds of hours of Buddhist chants, notably the chordal chanting of lamas and monks at the Gyuto Tantric University and the Drukpa Kagyu rituals performed at the Khampagar Monastery, both in Tibet. He traveled to the republic of Georgia to record polyphonic folk songs and to Fez, Morocco, in search of Sufi music. He returned to Bali in 1987 and 1994.

He prized authenticity over polish. “If someone made a mistake or the wind knocked over a microphone, I wouldn’t stop and say, ‘Take two,’ ” he told the audience at the Rubin Museum. “I couldn’t stop things that way, I needed the musicians to be deeply inside the music, and so I would wait until a whole performance was over and just say, ‘My, that was marvelous! What was that second piece? Could I hear that again?’ And just hope that the wind wouldn’t knock things over and that this time the genggong player wouldn’t fart.”

He learned early on that a generous supply of liquor helped the musicians relax, but that a too-generous supply caused them to pass out. Money also helped. His standard practice in villages was to determine the daily wage for a laborer and then pay the musicians double that for each hour of recording...

Mr. Lewiston, who has no immediate survivors, left an archive of nearly 400 hours of recorded music. Mr. Cullman is collaborating with Dust-to-Digital, a record company specializing in American folk, blues and gospel music, to produce a boxed set of Mr. Lewiston’s material and to find a home for the archive, much of it devoted to Tibetan chants and rituals.

+++

And now, excerpts from http://www.nonesuch.com/journal/david-lewiston-the-nonesuch-ex

It is hard for us now, awash in the 35,000 CDs released every year, to imagine a time when it was almost impossible to find recordings of music that did not reflect the popular currents of the day or the classics of the European tradition.  Hard, too, to remember when you couldn’t carry a sophisticated multitrack recording studio in a small backpack.  Hard, even, to remember that you couldn’t always choose which day of the week you wanted to hop a plane to Bali.

But in the early 1960s it took imagination, ears and a strong back to record Balinese gamelan music—or even to know what a gamelan was...

"David always understood that indigenous music requires superb support materials; notes, photos and artwork that flesh out the context in which the music itself can better be appreciated and understood.  David's work was the model for how this should be handled."

The generation of musical artists who came of age during what I will call “the Lewiston era” grew up with unprecedented information.  The music of the world was in their ears—this had never happened before.  Of course, there are legends about such cross-cultural revelations as Debussy hearing a gamelan orchestra at the 1889 Paris Exposition…and these no doubt influenced Western music in profound ways.

But it seems to me that the primary challenge facing composers and musicians today is in part due to David Lewiston and that is making sense of the world of music that we have learned exists over the past 40 years.

+++

Learn more, and see a list of approximately 25 reocrdings he produced, at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Lewiston

Here is Side 2 of the second LP he famously recorded, introducing the ‘Balinese Monkey Chant’ to the western world:  Ketjak: the Ramayana Monkey Chant

David was not a Christian and recorded little ‘world music’ with Christian lyrics. He became fascinated with Tibetan Buddhism and probably followed that himself to some degree. Even so, the plethora of ‘global Christian musics’ being recorded today by my ethnodoxology colleagues have some impetus from David’s recordings - they literally opened up a ‘world of music’ that was previously mostly unknown in the west (starting in the 1960s).

+++

I should also point out that David did not call himself an ethnomusicologist - in fact, he rather despised the term:  “I think of an ethnomusicologist as someone who takes wonderful music and analyzes it until all the joy has been lost,” he once told the online publication RootsWorld. “It’s as though a rather boring person who wanted to be paid for talking about music invented a Teutonic-sounding, pseudo-academic title as a scam — and got away with it! Much better to just shut up and enjoy the music.” https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/david-lewiston-musical-tourist-who-collected-the-sounds-of-the-world-dies-at-88/2017/05/30/3200ec12-4541-11e7-98cd-af64b4fe2dfc_story.html

Those of us who are ethnomusicologists can laugh at that statement. We can’t consider David “one of us” but still appreciate what gifts his ‘recorded musical tourism’ brought into public hearing.