Why? I've got two Cancer diagnosis and get what she was going through.
Amazing acceptance as conveyed in her song.
Here is the link to her AGT audition.
Lyrics
Welcome to Let Kids Be Kids, Inc., advocacy blog "We All Deserve Better." Our goal is to post relevant information that will spark action,discussion and interaction, creating a catalyst for solutions and ideas to impact the challenges we face in our society. We welcome comments, suggestions and submissions in support of those seeking a voice. "...Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear..."
Why? I've got two Cancer diagnosis and get what she was going through.
Amazing acceptance as conveyed in her song.
Here is the link to her AGT audition.
Lyrics
“I sit on my bathroom floor, listening as my husband tries to make an appointment with his doctor, any doctor, for tomorrow. The charcoal tile, cool beneath me, marches between us in perfect lines. I remember picking out the tile slabs during our home remodel half a decade ago. All those decisions, the endless choices of kitchen drawer pulls, nursery paint color, tint of the hardwood floor stain—they make up this home.
He reluctantly describes his symptoms and history to the consulting nurse: severe depression, hospitalized for suicidality two months ago, not sure the meds are working, paranoia, thoughts that he would be better off dead. He is simultaneously annoyed by and apathetic about the nurse’s questions.
My bottom aches, sore from sitting so long on a firm surface. My stomach rumbles but I don’t feel hungry. I have spent the better half of this Sunday trying to convince my husband to get help and consider readmittance to the psychiatric hospital. His back is leaned up against our bathtub. I sit between him and our master bathroom door.
The nurse goes through the PHQ-9 and GAD-7 questionnaires, commonly used tools for measuring a person’s level of depression and anxiety. He’s answered the questionnaires dozens of times by now, daily yardsticks when hospitalized in a psychiatric ward. How often in the last two weeks have you been feeling down, depressed, or hopeless? Poor appetite or overeating? Feeling afraid, as if something awful might happen? As a primary care physician myself, I’ve administered these questionnaires to hundreds of patients; I have them memorized. Even though I can’t hear which question she asks, he glances in my direction with each inquiry. He uses the standard 0–3 scale to respond. “Uh, two. Three. One. Three, I guess.” He is weary in the answering. As if he were swatting at a fly that won’t leave him alone.
Realizing he does have active suicidal ideation, she screens for safety: Do you have a gun in the home? A plan for self-harm? Have you bought or collected anything to help you carry out this plan? I think of all the things he’s thrown himself into over the years: bamboo furniture, landscaping, marathons. He qualified for a duathlon world championship with Team USA years ago, before we had children. We both flew to Australia so he could compete. He marched in a parade with the other athletes, lined up behind their respective national flags. He ran and cycled and ran some more through the Newcastle streets, a road that wound alongside a tan, jagged rock face. I barely caught a glimpse of him as he sped by on his sleek bike, hugging the sheer cliffs.
The nurse tells him there are no appointments with psychiatrists until later this week. I feel a swell of rage at the nurse, at my husband’s psychosis, at a medical system—which I am a part of—that would drug him up, spit him out, and create the paranoid stranger sitting before me on our bathroom floor.
I grab the phone from his hand. “He needs an appointment tomorrow, with anyone. They can consult the psychiatrist on call.” I know how the system works, that any clinician can consult the psychiatrist about medical management or plan of care. I don’t know if the nurse knows that I know this, but something in the tenor of my voice must convey my desperation. “Okay, let me see what I can do.”
He won’t meet my eyes, my husband. He won’t say a word to me as we wait. He has been convinced to seek help when all he wants is for it to end, to all be over.
They find him an appointment for tomorrow. I let out a breath, just a sliver of a sigh. It escapes into the air between us, dissipating into a rift. He takes the phone, listens to the instructions. “Okay.” He replies as if he couldn’t be less all right with the plan, with the fact that he is still breathing, cornered by his wife, who stands between him and his exit from his bathroom, from his house, from his life.
He hands me the phone. “This is Ann,” she says, “one of the social workers. Your husband agrees not to harm himself tonight. I suggest you get everything sharp out of the house, anything he could use to hurt himself.” I can hear the apology in her voice, a bow of intonation I have become increasingly familiar with since my husband’s descent into severe depression.
“Okay. Yes. I’ll get them all out.” My mind races. Our whole house. The kitchen knives I use to cut the kids’ fruit in the morning. The razors I use to shave my legs. The blades to his power saw in the basement, the one he used to fashion a backyard swing from a two-by-four. Those tiny scissors I use to trim my eyebrows. The ones I’ve just caught him tracing along his forearm, sharp tip angled toward a pulsing artery, as I walked back into the bathroom after nursing our eight-month-old baby downstairs. “What are you doing?” I asked him, my pitch high. “Nothing,” he said, and shoved the scissors back into the cabinet drawer alongside my lip balm, my mascara.
I look at my husband. His gaze is down, his jaw defiant. “How can I . . . ?” My voice trails off, but the social worker interprets my question. “Just do the best you can. Get all the razors and the knives and the pills. You can only do the best you can.” She repeats it, and the mantra rolls over in my mind, through my empty gut.
I hang up the phone and he brushes by me, doesn’t look up. “I’m going to the appointment tomorrow alone.” He disappears out of our bathroom, leaving a weight in his wake. I say nothing. I find a bag and begin gathering all the razors, all the pills, all the sharps to hide away.”
Mary Pan is a writer and physician with a background in global health and narrative medicine. Her work has appeared in McSweeney’s, Intima, and elsewhere. A Tin House Nonfiction Winter Workshop and Harvard Media & Medicine alum, she was runner-up for AWP’s 2020 Kurt Brown Prize for Creative Nonfiction.
From The Seattle Times
"Hayv Kahraman: Look Me in the Eyes interrogates conditions of migration and immigration in the West. In her largest museum solo presentation to date, Kahraman (born 1981, Baghdad) draws upon her longstanding motif of heavily browed, lidded eyes to expose the simultaneous surveillance and erasure of othered bodies. The exhibition features all new work encompassing paintings, large-scale sculptures, and a deeply personal audio installation.
Kahraman’s artwork balances autobiographical and collective experiences informed by her upbringing as an Iraqi/Kurdish refugee in Sweden. These aspects coalesce within female figures that appear throughout the exhibition—near, but not quite, self-portraits. At times, blank, white eyes offset their faces, speaking to government tracking through iris recognition technology. Meanwhile, disembodied eyes appear among plants highlighting how Western systems of botanical classification support racist hierarchies. Kahraman visually unites these disparate elements through marbling, a centuries-old technique that forces her to relinquish artistic control. The patterns that emerge render each work unique—a potent metaphor for resisting assimilation and its insistence on sameness."
On the Methow River |
The Needling, Seattle's Only Real Fake News
"Despite wide criticism of President-elect Donald Trump’s plans, leaders of Native American tribes across the nation say they’re intrigued by his bold vision for deporting the massive boatloads of immigrants who’ve been terrorizing this land for centuries.
“For more than 500 years now, these immigrants have not only been taking our jobs, but our land, our lives and our culture, so we’re more than deeply interested in how Trump is courageously planning to Make America Great Again by booting people like his family back to Scotland, Germany, and Slovenia,” said Duwamish Tribal Councilmember Sahale Brown. “We’re honestly pretty excited that there’s an American president who finally sees how much better this country would be if millions of European immigrants just got on a boat back to where they came from, preferably of the same size, structural integrity and trajectory as the Titanic.”
Chumash elder Simi Alulquoy said they couldn’t agree more.
“It would no doubt be a huge undertaking, but we’re willing to hear how this would work and however we might be able to help,” said Alulquoy. “We assume that the mass deportations wouldn’t include anyone brought here involuntarily by immigrants or anyone of Mexican descent since most of them have more DNA indigenous to this continent than a rosacea-faced Steve Bannon could ever hope for.”
At press time, tribal leaders said they might be open to immigrants staying if they decide to open up reservations."
Around 1.5 million years ago, four walkers traversed the muddy shore of a lake, leaving footprints. If they did not cross paths, they would have missed each other narrowly — probably by hours if not minutes.
What makes the discovery of these footprints so remarkable is the identity of those who left them.
Using innovative technology, researchers have analyzed the prints in detail, concluding that the footprints were made by two distinct species of hominins — our prehistoric relatives — at around the same time.
While one set of tracks belonged to an ancient primate, Paranthropus boisei, the other footprints were left behind by three Homo erectus individuals, an archaic human species, researchers believe. Their findings were published in the journal Science on Thursday.
Scientists say that the footprints, unearthed in present-day Kenya, are thefirst clear evidence that these two species lived alongside each other in a shared habitat — a finding that raises questions about how they interacted. The answer, not yet known, could further our understanding of how our ancestors evolved.
“This is the first time that we know they were living alongside each other,” said Kevin Hatala, a paleoanthropologist at Chatham University who helped excavate the footprints and analyze them using 3D documentation, in a phone interview. “They probably would have been aware of one another’s existence, living in such close proximity to one another. That raises some interesting questions about competition and coexistence.”
A crew of paleontologists and excavators unearthed the footprints in 2021 near Lake Turkana, in northern Kenya, where they were buried beneath layers of sand and volcanic rock deposited around 1.5 million years ago.
By analyzing the shape of the feet that left the imprints, the study’s authors found that the sets of tracks belonged to individuals from different hominin species. “They appear to be walking in slightly different fashions. They’re both bipeds. They’re both moving adeptly. But there are still subtle differences in how they walk,” Hatala said.
The analysis suggested that the bipeds — meaning they walked upright on two legs — were probably adults. One of them, the ancient primate Paranthropus boisei, was walking at around 4 mph, a modestly fast pace, according to an analysis of their stride length.
Within a few hundred thousand years of the encounter, the Paranthropus boisei would be extinct for reasons that are still unknown. By contrast, the Homo erectus species persisted for another million years — most likely becoming a predecessor of the modern human being. Both species are hominins, members of the same human lineage that split from apes’ ancestors more than 6 million years ago.
Craig Feibel, a geologist at Rutgers University who was a co-author on the study and helped date the findings, said the walkers left sharply defined footprints on a moist surface that was gently buried by a layer of sand soon after, before the surface had time to dry out and crack. That immediate burial allowed scientists to estimate that the tracks were left within hours of each other.
Unlike bones, fossil footprints cannot be transported by water, predators or scavengers — meaning scientists can confidently pinpoint them to a precise location.
There was already evidence that the two species overlapped in time, but no scientist has ever presented such direct proof that they also shared the same habitat, the scientists behind the study say. Reexamining similar footprints found in the same region using the same techniques revealed other sites at which different species of hominin also crossed paths, the authors said.
Thursday’s findings also raises a question: How did these two distinct species of prehistoric human relatives interact?
The answer, which scientists do not know, could one day shed light on the evolutionary path taken by humanity’s ancestors.
The study authors hypothesize that, for much of the time that the species coexisted, they consumed different diets. While the primate was well adapted to chewing vegetables, the Homo erectus was more of a hunter-gatherer. That offers a clue — but not much more — that they may not have been in fierce competition for resources at the time.
Feibel said the lake shore traversed by these two individuals would have been hot and seasonally rainy, similar in climate to the modern Serengeti in Africa. It was a plentiful environment, full of fauna and flowing with water, which the walkers would have shared with a diverse plethora of prehistoric creatures, including pigs, antelopes, saber-tooth cats and giant giraffes. Other tracks found on the same surface were made by bird, bovid or equid creatures, the study said. The bird tracks were “unusually large,” with the largest exceeding 10 inches wide.
It’s possible that subsequent changes in the climate pitted the Paranthropus boisei and the Homo erectus species into stronger competition as depleting resources forced our ancestors to adapt toward riskier, higher-reward food acquisition strategies, the study authors said, referencing existing research into the evolution of throwing, endurance running and changing diets in our prehistoric relatives.
Hatala said it was “definitely possible” that interactions between the two species “would have had some influence on the evolution of Homo erectus.”
Fred Spoor, a professor of paleontology at London’s Natural History Museum who was not involved in the research, said the study presented a good working hypothesis that two species coexisted at this lakeside.
“That is not to say that they were there to congregate and shake hands,” he said in a phone interview. Observing how chimpanzees and gorillas interact in Central Africa might be a good point of reference for imagining an encounter between these two hominin species, he added.
Ultimately, the scope and nature of any interaction between Paranthropus boisei and Homo erectus is unknown at this stage. However, Thursday’s findings align with our understanding that early human evolution was a messy and uneven process — with several species of hominins overlapping chronologically to form a family tree with multiple offshoots rather than a single evolutionary chain.
“It was a much more complicated, bushy affair, with multiple branches,” Spoor said. For most of the last 6 million years, different species of hominin overlapped, he added, with the last Neanderthals dying out just 38,000 years ago — a blink in prehistoric time. “The situation that we as humans are in, that we are alone at the moment, is rather unusual.”