Piqued Curiosity and We're No Longer Deserving
Another rainy day today had me sitting on the couch in our sunporch fixing dead links on our website. 
I don't add to the site all that much anymore but I've got a lot of time invested in it over the years so I'd like to keep it and its links somewhat relevant. The one area of the site that I'm considering refreshing are the pages devoted to stained glass. Much of what I have there are photos of my early work. I'd like to add photos of some more recent creations. Also, I need to add SSL (Secure Sockets Layer) coding to each of the sites I manage (a total of 3). Beginning in July, unless I've got the coding added to the site, it will show that it's an unsecured site next to its URL, looking somewhat like the image to the left. A secure site will have a padlock icon next to the URL. GoDaddy wants $60 a year for each site to keep them secured. For that price, I'll figure out the coding on my own.
I received a message via Google Hangouts a couple hours ago: "Hi, Kevin! I am a journalist (freelance, though this piece is for ________) and I am writing about someone you know. Wanted to see about having a quick interview with you."
My curiosity was piqued.
I replied, "sure".
We spoke on the phone for maybe 20 minutes but he asked that I not mention any specifics at this point, so I won't. I can say that he began the conversation by saying he didn't want to mention the person's name that he wanted to ask me about ahead of time because he was looking for an organic response from me. With my permission, he recorded our conversation for possible use on his podcast in addition to the publication he's writing for. Watch this space.
I've been kicking around whether or not I wanted to pile on to the voluminous coverage and outrage that's already out there about the separating of immigrant children from their parents on our southern border, many of whom are seeking asylum for humanitarian reasons, meaning: they hold no hope for their children or themselves if they remain living the lives they're living; meaning: they risked their lives and the lives of their children to make the arduous journey to our border. I have no doubt that I would be among them if I was in their shoes. How about you?
I started writing about it but quit, lacking sufficient words to express how I truly feel. Heartless, was about the best I could do.
We've got $1.5 trillion dollars in tax cuts for the wealthy but we have only a dismissive, hateful reception for those who desperately look to us for help because they remember a time when we were that shining city on a hill. But no more.
We're no longer deserving of either the Statue of Liberty or the words of Emma Lazarus enshrined on her base.
"Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
What's become of us? I no longer recognize my country!
Like I said, heartless.
I don't add to the site all that much anymore but I've got a lot of time invested in it over the years so I'd like to keep it and its links somewhat relevant. The one area of the site that I'm considering refreshing are the pages devoted to stained glass. Much of what I have there are photos of my early work. I'd like to add photos of some more recent creations. Also, I need to add SSL (Secure Sockets Layer) coding to each of the sites I manage (a total of 3). Beginning in July, unless I've got the coding added to the site, it will show that it's an unsecured site next to its URL, looking somewhat like the image to the left. A secure site will have a padlock icon next to the URL. GoDaddy wants $60 a year for each site to keep them secured. For that price, I'll figure out the coding on my own.I received a message via Google Hangouts a couple hours ago: "Hi, Kevin! I am a journalist (freelance, though this piece is for ________) and I am writing about someone you know. Wanted to see about having a quick interview with you."
My curiosity was piqued.
I replied, "sure".
We spoke on the phone for maybe 20 minutes but he asked that I not mention any specifics at this point, so I won't. I can say that he began the conversation by saying he didn't want to mention the person's name that he wanted to ask me about ahead of time because he was looking for an organic response from me. With my permission, he recorded our conversation for possible use on his podcast in addition to the publication he's writing for. Watch this space.
I've been kicking around whether or not I wanted to pile on to the voluminous coverage and outrage that's already out there about the separating of immigrant children from their parents on our southern border, many of whom are seeking asylum for humanitarian reasons, meaning: they hold no hope for their children or themselves if they remain living the lives they're living; meaning: they risked their lives and the lives of their children to make the arduous journey to our border. I have no doubt that I would be among them if I was in their shoes. How about you?
I started writing about it but quit, lacking sufficient words to express how I truly feel. Heartless, was about the best I could do.
We've got $1.5 trillion dollars in tax cuts for the wealthy but we have only a dismissive, hateful reception for those who desperately look to us for help because they remember a time when we were that shining city on a hill. But no more.
We're no longer deserving of either the Statue of Liberty or the words of Emma Lazarus enshrined on her base.
"Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
What's become of us? I no longer recognize my country!
Like I said, heartless.
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