Alexander Leos has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). There are definite negative effects of this disorder but on the plus side, it contributes to the tremendous pleasure he gives to all that come in contact with him. Over the years his antics have brought considerable laughter to his family and others. Grandpa's Enigma is his grandfather's attempt to share with you the humor that Alex, almost entirely inadvertently, has given him. If, in addition, the reader gains a better appreciation of ADHD and how it may be dealt with, we would be most pleased; however, it was never our intention to provide any guidance, just a few laughs.
The brutal lynching of two young black men in Marion, Indiana, on August 7, 1930, cast a shadow over the town that still lingers. It is only one event in the long and complicated history of race relations in Marion, a history much ignored and considered by many to be best forgotten. But the lynching cannot be forgotten. It is too much a part of the fabric of Marion, too much ingrained even now in the minds of those who live there. In Our Town journalist Cynthia Carr explores the issues of race, loyalty, and memory in America through the lens of a specific hate crime that occurred in Marion but could have happened anywhere. Marion is our town, America’s town, and its legacy is our legacy. Like everyone in Marion, Carr knew the basic details of the lynching even as a child: three black men were arrested for attempted murder and rape, and two of them were hanged in the courthouse square, a fate the third miraculously escaped. Meeting James Cameron–the man who’d survived–led her to examine how the quiet Midwestern town she loved could harbor such dark secrets. Spurred by the realization that, like her, millions of white Americans are intimately connected to this hidden history, Carr began an investigation into the events of that night, racism in Marion, the presence of the Ku Klux Klan–past and present–in Indiana, and her own grandfather’s involvement. She uncovered a pattern of white guilt and indifference, of black anger and fear that are the hallmark of race relations across the country. In a sweeping narrative that takes her from the angry energy of a white supremacist rally to the peaceful fields of Weaver–once an all-black settlement neighboring Marion–in search of the good and the bad in the story of race in America, Carr returns to her roots to seek out the fascinating people and places that have shaped the town. Her intensely compelling account of the Marion lynching and of her own family’s secrets offers a fresh examination of the complex legacy of whiteness in America. Part mystery, part history, part true crime saga, Our Town is a riveting read that lays bare a raw and little-chronicled facet of our national memory and provides a starting point toward reconciliation with the past. On August 7, 1930, three black teenagers were dragged from their jail cells in Marion, Indiana, and beaten before a howling mob. Two of them were hanged; by fate the third escaped. A photo taken that night shows the bodies hanging from the tree but focuses on the faces in the crowd—some enraged, some laughing, and some subdued, perhaps already feeling the first pangs of regret. Sixty-three years later, journalist Cynthia Carr began searching the photo for her grandfather’s face.
This is as much a celebration of life as it is a memoir. My husband, Lou, and I each did our own thing but we always helped one another to accomplish what the other needed or wanted. We adored our children and took pleasure in them. I am relishing this pleasure once again while leaving a record for my family to build on and also revealing my personal journey from ignorance to being a student of Judaism. Ah! To have a chance to revisit those times has been wonderful. Not only did I want to leave a record for my children and grandchildren but also for my great grandchildren, but I also wanted to go on that grand adventure called “life” once again. True, it had its tragedies; doesn’t every life? But its pleasures and high points and our wonderful marriage outweighed everything else.
This candid memoir of addiction and recovery shares an intimate chronicle of life from Midwestern childhood to NYC's drug-fueled underground. Patrick Moore's account of life as a crystal meth addict combines heartbreaking honesty with rare insight and surprising humor. It chronicles a twenty-year trip stretching from Moore's lonely childhood in Iowa to the day he sits, naked, in a Los Angeles rental, hallucinating about psycho-robbers while talking to a possum he's sure is God. Along the way, there are acid trips at the V.F.W., Dexetrim study halls, teeth-grinding nights of dancing and anonymous sex in New York City's hottest eighties clubs. He takes pictures of Andy Warhol, loses friends and lovers, and navigates a Byzantine underworld of cookers, users, club kids, dealers, and colorful characters as intense as the drug itself. Through Patrick's vivid retelling, you'll meet Lee, the glamorous bad boy with a taste for danger; Tony, the tweaker who likes to remove his eyebrows; Ding-Dong, the Depends-wearing, nearly blind housemate; Hisako, the artist and squatter with a fondness for hot plate cooking; "Mother" Judy, the tough, butch rehab counselor who takes no prisoners, and countless others on the road from crystal meth hell to eventual sobriety.
In this book the author traces the way that early psychic development from birth up to three years is reflected throughout our lifespan, including adulthood, couplehood and parenthood. The inner child reverberating within us (consciously and unconsciously) and thus present in our ongoing interactions with others, often colours and guides our current experiences, whether with our life partner or children, and as psychotherapists, with our patients. Our openness to its resonance allows us to become more attuned to and emotionally accessible to ourselves and others.The author's primary aim is to familiarize the reader with her innovative idea of the emotional immune system managed by a healthy narcissism and operating via the inner reverberations of hidden childhood narratives. Our sense of familiar self is accordingly consolidated and immunised to an invasion by foreign sensations.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, America’s High Plains witnessed a startling onrush of settlers. But these lands are unforgiving, dreams failed, and a great dwindling followed. A dying land shapes its residents, how they think, how they live, and where they place their faith. But while the High Plains are dry, flat, and mostly treeless, the region is not yet lifeless. Many persist and even thrive. Peter R. Sandberg meditates on a region and its people, drawing on memories of ordinary yet remarkable individuals striving to flourish in a place that just might not want them. He melds compelling narratives about the people he knew with insights into prairie life and humanity itself, drawing out joy, tragedy, faith, hope, and meaning. Throughout the book, the author reflects on how his dry, windy, isolated upbringing shaped who he is and how he views people and the world. He draws on his childhood in Northwest Kansas, followed by decades spent across much of the rest of America, to examine life on the High Plains and how it compares with the rest of the country. Ultimately this book provides a message of perseverance from the heartland for a nation seeking to find its way.
