A few words about the Republican National Convention, or it's alternative title: Women with big hair and the men in white shoes who love them.
"White" certainly was the operable word in Tampa. I had to feel bad for the one black guy the networks kept cutting to during all the speeches. They tried everything to make him look like a crowd. Different camera angles. He probably had his own wardrobe assistant suggesting: "Put on the cowboy hat now!" and "Try the handlebar mustache! You know this poor guy had to be some prairie state legislator's driver.
A lot of Americans identify themselves by their work. It's often how we introduce ourselves or describe our friends and parents: "I'm a police officer." "I'm a spot-welder." "My dad was a druggist." "My mom was a teacher." "My wife is a pilot." "My friend is a firefighter." "I sell insurance."
Our work has been a kind of identity stamp, defining us as much as our last name or place of birth. As Studs Terkel wrote in his 1974 classic, Working, "Our jobs give us daily meaning as well as daily bread."
Sophia Greenwalt, 13, is the founder of Helping Hats, a fundraising program in the Reeds Spring School District. Once a month, students and staff can wear a hat to school for a dollar donation. The money raised that day goes to a non-profit organization in the community.
In 2012, Sophia has gotten nine local businesses on board to match the money raised by the school. Helping Hats has raised more than $20,000 for organizations such as the Joplin School District (after a devastating tornado), the Humane Society and others.
Originally published on Sat September 1, 2012 11:22 am
You've probably heard of thalidomide, the infamous sedative that ended up causing birth defects in the children of mothers who took it.
Back in the late 1950s, the drug was sold in 46 countries, though not the U.S., and was particularly popular in then-West Germany, the U.K. and Australia. But in 1961, the drug was taken off the market after the link to birth defects emerged.