Wednesday, March 12, 2014

In Honor Of Women's History Month- Lucy On The Edge Of The World

 
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman 

Lucy On The Edge Of The World

People, ordinary vagrant night owls, hung-over refugees from the now closed bars and cabarets that dotted high Massachusetts Avenue and low Brattle Street, average vagabond wanderers of the Harvard Square night afraid to go home to face some wrath, the shiftless, the toothless homeless lacking that benighted nickel for subway fare or having made an erroneous judgment in favor of sweet sickly Thunderbird wine, came into the all-night Hayes-Bickford seeking, like him,  relieve from their collective woes with a cup of weak-kneed coffee and steamed, steamed everything. They, whatever their condition, whatever their motives, did not bother Lucy (the first name Lucy was all anybody ever found out about her as far as he knew, at least that was all he turned up upon later  inquiry) sitting alone at her “reserved” table in the back of the cafeteria toward the rest rooms.

Lucy Lilac, nicknamed that last part by some ancient want-to-be fellow bard perhaps and it stuck. At least she would brighten up and answer to that call (that moniker’s genesis like her real surname undisclosed to him by the other regular tenants of the night when he asked around). She spent her youthful (she was perhaps twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, had just finished college, he had heard, so that age seemed about right) middle of the nights just then hunched over a yellow legal notepad filling up its pages with her writings and occasionally she would speak in a melodious sing-song voice some tidbit she had written out loud, not harmful out loud like some of the drunks at a few of the tables, or some homeless wailing banshee cry, but just out loud.

Some of it he thought was beautiful the words glued together in such a way that spoke of serious and thoughtful labors, and some of it was, well, doggerel, words strewn about in fashionable if haphazard free verse, about par  for the course with poets and other writers, But all of it, whatever he heard of it, was centered on her plight in the world as a woman torn, as a woman on the edge, the edge between two societies, between her membership in the generic human race and her ragamuffin fate as a woman reduced to second-class human citizenship a kindred of the black masses. Between, as one professor put it whom he had asked about it later, two cultural gradients if that term has any meaning beyond the academy. And maybe she had been stuck that way but let’s let him try to reconstruct what it was all about, all about for Lucy Lilac night owl. See he became so fascinated by where she was going with her muse in those 1962 summer nights, about how she was going to resolve that battle between “cultural gradients” and about the gist of what she had to say to a callow world in those days that he turned up many a “two in morning” to try to figure her dream out. He had more than a passing interest in this battle since he was also spooked by those same demons that she spoke of.    

[Oh, by the way, for the curious, Lucy Lilac, was drop-dead beautiful, with long black iron-pressed straight hair as was the style then, alabaster white skin whether from her odd hours of sleep or by genetic design was not clear, big red lips, which he did not know whether was in style then or not, the bluest eyes of blue, always wearing dangling earrings. Usually as well wearing some long dress so it was never really possible to determine her figure or her legs, important pieces of knowledge to him, and not just to him, in those sex-obsessed days, but he would have said slender and probably nice legs too. Since neither her beauty, nor the idea of sex, at least pick-up sex, enter into this sketch that is all that needs to be pointed out. Except this, her beauty, along with that no-nonsense demeanor, was so apparent that it held him, and others too, off from anything other than an occasional distant forlorn smile. ]               

What Lucy Lilac would speak of, like a lot of the young in those days, was her alienation from parents, society, just everything to keep the list from getting out of hand, but not just that. On that she had kindred spirits in abundance. She was also alienated from her race like lot of the young, him included, were in those days as well. Alienated from her nine-to-five-go-by-the-rules-we-are-in-charge-trample on the rest of the world, especially the known black world white race. Part of it was that you could not turn open a newspaper or turn on a radio or television without having the ugly stuff going down south in America (and sometimes stuff in the north too confronting you headlong). But part of it was an affinity with black culture (one of the gradients, okay), mainly through music and a certain style, a certain swagger in the face of a world filled with hostility. “Cool,” to use just one word. 

Now this race thing, this white race thing of Lucy’s had nothing to do, he did not think, at least when she spoke that thought never came through, with some kind of guilt by association with the rednecks and crackers down in places like Alabama and Mississippi goddams. It was more that given the deal going down in the world, the injustices, the not having had any say in what was going on, or being asked about it either make her feel like she was some Negro in some shack some place. Some mad priestess fellaheena scratching the good earth to make her mark.

As Lucy expanded her ideas each night (and began to get a little be-bop flow into her voice as she spoke, a flow that he secretly kept time to), he got a better sense of what she was trying to say. (He later learned though one of her poems, that she had been, as he had, very influenced by Norman Mailer’s 1950s essay in The Partisan Review The White Negro, a screed on what Mailer called the white hipster, those who had parted company with their own culture and moved to the sexier, sassy cultural gradient.) And while Lucy and he were both comfortably ensconced in the cozy Cambridge  Hayes-Bickford  (well maybe not cozy but safe anyway) and had some very white skin to not have to James Crow worry about he began to see what she meant.

And Lucy Lilac really hit home when she spoke of how she had been, to his surprise since she gave every indication of being some cast-off Mayfair swell’s progeny, minus that important alienation thing, brought up under some tough circumstances down in New Jersey. She spoke about being from poor, very poor white folks somewhere around Toms River, her father out of work a lot worrying about the next paycheck and keeping him and his under some roof, her mother harried by taking care of five kids on two kids’ money, about being ostracized by the other better off kids, about seeking solace in listening to Bessie Smith, Billie, and a ton of other blues names that he recognized. And he too recognized a fellahin kindred since his own North Adamsville existence seemed so similar.

Yes, those nights he knit a secret and unknown bond with Lucy Lilac, Lucy who a few months later vanished from the Hayes-Bickford night, Lucy from the edge of the world, and wherever she wound up he knew just what she meant by the white Negro hipster-dom she was seeking, and that maybe he was too…

And hence this Women’s History Month contribution.                   


 
***The Roots Is The Toots-The Music That Got The Generation Of ’68 Through The 1950s Red Scare Cold War Night -Gene Vincent's Be-Bop-A-Lula
 
 
 
Markin comment:

You all know Frankie, right? Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, map of Ireland, fierce Frankie when necessary, and usually kind Frankie by rough inclination. Ya, Frankie from the old North Adamsville neighborhood. Frankie to the tenement, the cold-water flat tenement, born. Frankie, no moola, no two coins to rub together except by wit or chicanery, poor as a church mouse if there ever was such a thing, a poor church mouse that is. Yes, that Frankie. And, as well, this writer, his faithful scribe chronicling his tales, his regal tales. Said scribe to the public housing flats, hot-water flats, but still flats, born. And poorer even than any old Frankie church mouse. More importantly though, more importantly for this story that I am about to tell you than our respective social class positions, is that Frankie is king, the 1960s king hell king of Salducci’s Pizza Parlor, if not then North Adamsville’s finest still the place where we spent many a misbegotten hour, and truth to tell, just plain killed some time when we were down at our heels, or maybe down to our heels.

Sure you know about old Frankie’s royal heritage too. I clued you in before when I wrote about my lost in the struggle for power as I tried to overthrow the king when we entered North Adamsville High in 1960. By wit, chicanery, guile, bribes, threats, physical and mental, and every other form of madness he clawed his way to power after I forgot the first rule of trying to overthrow a king- you have to make sure he is dead. But mainly it was his "style”, he mad-hatter “beat” style , wherefore he attempted to learn, and to impress the girls (and maybe a few guys too), with his arcane knowledge of every oddball fact that anyone would listen to for two minutes. After my defeat we went back and forth about it, he said, reflecting his peculiar twist on his Augustinian-formed Roman Catholicism, it was his god-given right to be king of this particular earthy kingdom but foolish me I tried to justify his reign based on that old power theory (and discredited as least since the 17th century) of the divine right of kings. But enough of theory. Here’s why, when the deal went down, Frankie was king, warts and all.

All this talk about Frankie royal lineage kind of had me remembering a story, a Frankie pizza parlor story. Remind me to tell you about it sometime, about how we used to bet on pizza dough flying. What the heck I have a few minutes I think I will tell you now because it will also be a prime example, maybe better than the one I was originally thinking about, of Frankie’s treacheries that I mentioned before. Now that I think about it again my own temperature is starting to rise. If I see that bastard again I’m going to... Well, let me just tell the story and maybe your sympathetic temperature will rise a bit too.

One summer night, ya, it must have been a summer night because this was the time of year when we had plenty of time on our hands to get a little off-handedly off-hand. In any case it would have had to be between our junior and senior years at old North Adamsville High because we were talking a lot in those days about what we were going to do, or not do, after high school. And it would have had to have been on a Monday or Tuesday summer night at that and we were deflated from a hard weekend of this and that, mainly, Frankie trying to keep the lid on his relationship with his ever lovin’ sweetie, Joanne. Although come to think of it that was a full-time occupation and it could have been any of a hundred nights, summer nights or not. I was also trying to keep a lid on my new sweetie, Lucinda, a sweetie who seemed to be drifting away, or at least in and out on me, mostly out, and mostly because of my legendary no dough status (that and no car, no sweet ride down the boulevard, the beach boulevard so she could impress HER friends, ya it was that kind of relationship). Anyway it's a summer night when we had time on our hands, idle time, devil’s time according to mothers’ wit, if you want to know the truth, because his lordship (although I never actually called him that), Frankie I, out of the blue made me the following proposition. Bet: how high will Tonio flip his pizza dough on his next pass through.

Now this Tonio, as you know already if you have read the story about how Frankie became king of the pizza parlor, and if you don’t you will hear more about him later, is nothing but an ace, numero uno, primo pizza flinger. Here’s a little outline of the contours of his art, although minus the tenderness, the care, the genetic dispositions, and who knows, the secret song or incantation that Tonio brought to the process. I don’t know much about the backroom work, the work of putting all the ingredients together to make the dough, letting the dough sit and rise and then cutting it up into pizza-size portions. I only really know the front of the store part- the part where he takes that cut dough portion in front of him in the preparation area and does his magic. That part started with a gentle sprinkling of flour to take out some of the stickiness of the dough, then a rough and tumble kneading of the dough to take any kinks out, and while taking the kinks out the dough gets flattened, flattened enough to start taking average citizen-recognizable shape as a pizza pie. Sometimes, especially if Frankie put in an order, old Tonio would knead that dough to kingdom come. Now I am no culinary expert, and I wasn’t then, no way, but part of the magic of a good pizza is to knead that dough to kingdom come so if you see some geek doing a perfunctory couple of wimpy knead chops then move on, unless you are desperate or just ravenously hungry.

Beyond the extra knead though the key to the pizza is the thinness of the crust and hence the pizza tosses. And this is where Tonio was a Leonardo-like artist, no, that’s not right, this is where he went into some world, some place we would never know. I can still see, and if you happened to be from old North Adamsville, you probably can still see it too if you patronized the place or stood, waiting for that never-coming Eastern Mass. bus, in front of the big, double-plate glass pizza parlor windows watching in amazement while Tonio tossed that dough about a million times in the air. Artistry, pure and simple.

So you can see now, if you didn’t quite get it before that Frankie’s proposition is nothing but an old gag kind of bet, a bet on where Tonio will throw, high or low. Hey, it’s just a variation on a sports bet, like in football, make the first down or not, pass or rush, and so on, except its pizza tosses, okay. Of course, unlike sports, at least known sports, there are no standards in place so we have to set some rules, naturally. Since its Frankie’s proposition he gets to give the rules a go, and I can veto.

Frankie, though, and sometimes he could do things simple, although that was not his natural inclination; his natural inclination was to be arcane in all things, and not just with girls. Simply Frankie said in his Solomonic manner that passed for wisdom, above or below the sign in back of Tonio’s preparation area, the sign that told the types of pizza sold, their sizes, their cost and what else was offered for those who didn’t want pizza that night.

You know such signs, every pizza palace has them, and other fast eat places too, you have to go to “uptown” eateries for a tabled menu in front of your eyes, and only your eyes, but here’s Tonio’s public offerings. On one side of the sign plain, ordinary, vanilla, no frills pizza, cheap, maybe four or five dollars for a large, small something less, although don’t hold me to the prices fifty years later for christ sakes, no fixings. Just right for “family night”, our family night later, growing up later, earlier in hot-water flats, public housing hot-water flats time, we had just enough money for Spam, not Internet spam, spam meat although that may be an oxymoron and had no father hard-worked cold cash for exotic things like pizza, not a whole one anyway, in our household. And from what Frankie told me his too.

Later , when we had a little more money and could “splurge” for an occasional take-out, no home delivery in those days, when ma didn’t feel like cooking, or it’s too hot, or something and to avoid civil wars, the bloody brother against brother kind, plain, ordinary vanilla pizza is like manna from heaven for mama, although nobody really wants it and you just feel bloated after eating your share (and maybe the crust from someone who doesn’t like crust, or maybe you traded for it); or, plain, by the slice, out of the oven (or more likely oven-re-heated after open air sitting on some aluminum special pizza plate for who knows how long) the only way you could get it after school with a tonic (also known as soda for you old days non-New Englanders and progeny), usually a root beer, a Hires root beer to wash away the in-school blahs, especially the in-school cafeteria blahs.

Or how about plump Italian sausage, Tonio thickly-sliced, or spicy-side thinly-sliced pepperoni later when you had a couple of bucks handy to buy your own, and to share with your fellows (those fellows, hopefully, including girls, always hopefully, including girls) and finally got out from under family plain and, on those lucky occasions, and they were lucky like from heaven, when girl-dated you could show your stuff, your cool, manly stuff, and divide, divide, if you can believe that, the pizza half one, half the other fixing, glory be; onion or anchovies, oh no, the kiss of death, no way if you had the least hope for a decent night and worst, the nightmarish worst, when your date ordered her portion with either of these, although maybe, just maybe once or twice, it saved you from having to do more than a peck of a kiss when your date turned out not to be the dream vision you had hoped for; hams, green peppers, mushrooms, hamburg, and other oddball toppings I will not even discuss because such desecration of Tonio’s pizza, except, maybe extra cheese, such Americanized desecration , should have been declared illegal under some international law, no question; or, except, maybe again, if you had plenty of dough, had a had a few drinks, for your gourmet delight that one pig-pile hunger beyond hunger night when all the fixings went onto the thing. Whoa. Surely you would not find on Tonio’s blessed sign this modern thing, this Brussels sprouts, broccoli, alfalfa sprouts, wheat germ, whole wheat, soy, sea salt, himalaya salt, canola oil, whole food, pseudo-pizza not fit for manly (or womanly) consumption, no, not in those high cholesterol, high-blood pressure, eat today for tomorrow you may die days.

On the other side of the sign, although I will not rhapsodize about Tonio’s mastery of the submarine sandwich art (also known as heroes and about seventy-six other names depending on where you grew up, what neighborhood you grew up in, and who got there first, who, non-Puritan, got there first that is) are the descriptions of the various sandwich combinations (all come with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, the outlawed onions, various condiment spreads as desired along with a bag of potato chips so I won’t go into all that); cold cuts, basically bologna and cheese, maybe a little salami, no way, no way in hell am I putting dough up for what ma prepared and I had for lunch whenever I couldn’t put two nickels together to get the school lunch, and the school lunch I already described as causing me to run to Tonio’s for a sweet reason portion of pizza by the slice just to kill the taste, no way is right; tuna fish, no way again for a different reason though, a Roman Catholic Friday holy, holy tuna fish reason besides grandma, high Roman Catholic saint grandma, had that tuna fish salad with a splash of mayo on oatmeal bread thing down to a science, ya, grandma no way I would betray you like that; roast beef, what are you kidding; meatballs (in that grand pizza sauce); sausage, with or without green peppers, steak and cheese and so on. The sign, in all it beatified Tonio misspelled glory. 

“Okay,” I said, that sign part seemed reasonable under the circumstances (that’s how Frankie put it, I’m just repeating his rationalization), except that never having made such a bet before I asked to witness a few Tonio flips first. “Deal,” said Frankie. Now my idea here, and I hope you follow me on this because it is not every day that you get to know how my mind works, or how it works different from star king Frankie, but it is not every day that you hear about a proposition based on high or low pizza tosses and there may be something of an art to it that I, or you, were not aware of. See, I am thinking, as many times as I have watched old saintly Tonio, just like everybody else, flip that dough to the heavens I never really thought about where it was heading, except those rare occasions when one hit the ceiling and stuck there. So maybe there is some kind of regular pattern to the thing. Like I say, I had seen Tonio flip dough more than my fair share of teenage life pizzas but, you know, never really noticed anything about it, kind of like the weather. As it turned out there was apparently no rhyme or reason to Tonio’s tosses just the quantity (that was the secret to that good pizza crust, not the height of the throw), so after a few minutes I said "Bet." And bet is, high or low, my call, for a quarter a call (I have visions of filling that old jukebox with my “winnings” because a new Dylan song just came in that I am crazy to play about a zillion times, Mr. Tambourine Man). We are off.

I admit that I did pretty well for while that night and maybe was up a buck, and some change, at the end of the night. Frankie paid up, as Frankie always paid up, and such pay up without a squawk was a point of honor between us (and not just Frankie and me either, every righteous guy was the same way, or else), cash left on the table. I was feeling pretty good ‘cause I just beat the king of the hill at something, and that something was his own game. I rested comfortable on my laurels. Rested comfortably that is until a couple of nights later when we, as usual, were sitting in the Frankie-reserved seats (reserved that is unless there were real paying customers who wanted to eat their pizza in-house and then we, more or less, were given the bum’s rush) when Frankie said “Bet.” And the minute he said that I knew, I knew for certain, that we are once again betting on pizza tosses because when it came right down to it I knew, and I knew for certain, that Frankie’s defeat a few nights before did not sit well with him.

Now here is where things got tricky, though. Tonio, good old good luck charm Tonio, was nowhere in sight. He didn’t work every night and he was probably with his honey, and for an older dame she was a honey, dark hair, good shape, great, dark laughing eyes, and a melting smile. I could see, even then, where her charms beat out, even for ace pizza flinger Tonio, tossing foolish old pizza dough in the air for some kids with time on their hands, no dough, teenage boys, Irish teenage boys to boot. However, Sammy, North Adamsville High Class of ’62 (maybe, at least that is when he was suppose to graduate, according to Frankie, one of whose older brothers graduated that year), and Tonio’s pizza protégé is on duty. Since we already know the ropes on this thing I didn’t even bother to check and see if Sammy’s style was different from Tonio’s. Heck, it was all random, right?

This night we flipped for first call. Frankie won the coin toss. Not a good sign, maybe. I, however, like the previous time, started out quickly with a good run and began to believe that, like at Skeet ball (some call it Skee-ball but they are both the same–roll balls up a targeted area to win Kewpie dolls, feathery things, or a goof key chain for your sweetie) down at the amusement park, I had a knack for this. Anyway I was ahead about a buck or so. All of a sudden my “luck” went south. Without boring you with the epic pizza toss details I could not hit one right for the rest of the night. The long and short of it was that I was down about four dollars, cash on the table. Now Frankie’s cash on the table. No question. At that moment I was feeling about three feet tall and about eight feet under because nowadays cheap, no meaning four dollars, then was date money, Lucinda, fading Lucinda, date money. This was probably fatal, although strictly speaking that is another story and I will not get into the Lucinda details, because when I think about it now that was just a passing thing, and you know about passing things- what about it.

What is part of the story though, and the now still temperature-rising part of the story, is how Frankie, Frankie, king of the pizza parlor night, Frankie of a bunch of kindnesses, and of a bunch of treacheries, here treachery, zonked me on this betting scandal. What I didn’t know then was that I was set up, set up hard and fast, with no remorse by one Francis Xavier Riley, to the tenements, the cold-water flat tenements, born and his cohort Sammy. It seems that Sammy owed Frankie for something, something never fully disclosed by either party, and the pay-off by Sammy to make him well was to “fix” the pizza tosses that night I just told you about, the night of the golden fleecing. Every time I said "high" Sammy, taking his coded signal from Frankie, went low and so forth. Can you believe a “king”, even a king of a backwater pizza parlor, would stoop so low?

Here is the really heinous part though, and keep my previous reference to fading Lucinda in mind when you read this. Frankie, sore-loser Frankie, not only didn’t like to lose but was also low on dough (a constant problem for both of us, and which consumed far more than enough of our time and energy than was necessary in a just, Frankie-friendly world) for his big Saturday night drive-in movie-car borrowed from his older brother, big-man-around- town date with one of his side sweeties (Joanne, his regular sweetie was out of town with her parents on vacation). That part, that unfaithful to Joanne part I didn’t care about because, once again truth to tell, old ever lovin’ sweetie Joanne and I did not get along for more reasons than you have to know. The part that burned me, and still burns me, is that I was naturally the fall-guy for some frail (girl in pizza parlor parlance time) caper he was off on. Now I have mentioned that when we totaled up the score the Frankie kindnesses were way ahead of the Frankie treacheries, no question, which was why we were friends. Still, right this minute, right this 2010 minute, I’m ready to go up to his swanky downtown law office (where the men’s bathroom is larger than his whole youth time old cold- water flat tenement) and demand that four dollars back, plus interest. You know I am right on this one.
 

Veterans For Peace
 
 
 
 
For Immediate Release
 
Contact: Pat Scanlon, Office: 978-475-1776, Cell: 978-590-4248, email:Vets4PeaceChapter9@gmail.com 
Attached: Press Release, Parade Flyer, Open Letter to Residents of Boston
 
Mayor Walsh and Representative Steven Lynch
Officially Invited to Walk in the
Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade
 
Boston, Mass. – March 12, 2014 – Organizers of the Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade announced today that Mayor Marty Walsh and Representative Steven Lynch have been cordially invited to walk in the only parade on the streets of Boston on March 16 that is open, welcoming and inclusive of all groups whether they are veterans or non-veterans, gay or straight, black or white.
 
Mayor Walsh attempted to negotiate a suitable agreement with the Allied War Veterans Council to allow MassEquality to openly walk in the traditional parade. As has been widely reported those negotiations have fallen apart because of the intransience and continued exclusionary and discriminatory practices of the organizers of the traditional parade. The Mayor has publically stated that he will not walk in the first parade if MassEquality does not walk. MassEquality is not walking.
 
 “Ones sexual orientation simply does not matter” stated Pat Scanlon, Coordinator of Veterans For Peace and the lead organizer for the second parade. “Our parade has eight divisions. One is the LGBT Division”. The other divisions are: Veterans For Peace, Peace, Religious, Environmental Stewardship, Political, Labor, Social and Economic Justice. “We welcome diversity”, stated Scanlon, “and invite all members of the LGBT community to come and join the second parade.  Both Mayor Walsh and Representative Lynch are welcome to join that division and truly show support for the LGBT community. It would be a significant statement for both of these politicians to walk under the rainbow flag”.
 
Since the breakdown of negotiations it appears as if both politicians are attempting to solicit one or more gay veterans to walk with them, crashing the party so to speak. “This appears to be more a desire to be in the first parade rather than actually supporting the LGBT community,” stated Reverend Lara Hoke, a Navy veteran, a lesbian and member of Veterans For Peace. “We understand the desire of both Mayor Walsh and Representative Lynch, who have walked in this parade for many years, to want to walk in the first parade” said Rev. Hoke.. “If MassEquality is not walking in that first parade openly with banners, signs, posters, songs and or clothing proclaiming who they are while celebrating Saint Patrick then Mayor should not walk either. The Mayor instead should join the inclusive and welcoming second parade, the Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade”. If Mayor de Blasio can walk in the alternative parade in New York City, Mayor Walsh can do the same in Boston”.
 
Participants in the Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade will assemble at 2:00 pm on West Broadway and D streets in South Boston on Sunday, March 16.
 
Web: smedleyvfp.org    Twitter: @smedleyVFP       Facebook: facebook.com/smedleyvfp
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UKRAINE
Say NO to another U.S. war!

Urgent call for anti-war actions

March 10 to March 17

The threat is real. Sanctions, war build up, warships with guided missiles to the Black Sea, F-15 fighter jets on Russia's border are dangerous provocations. Washington has recognized and committed more than $10 billion to an illegal right-wing government that seized power from elected officials.
Actions large and small are urgently needed -- informational picket lines, visits to congressional offices, protests at media centers against war propaganda, vigils, and challenges to government officials. Let's make our voices heard.

   In NEW YORK CITY 

No new U.S. war! Stop media lies about Ukraine
March from CNN to Fox News
Friday, March 14
5 pm to 6 pm -
Rally at CNN
, 10 Columbus Circle
(Broadway & 59th St)
6 pm
March down Broadway to FOX News,

49th St. & 6th Ave.

UKRAINE: What the media isn't telling you
WAR ALERT
Corporate media have always lied about the reasons for war, from Vietnam and Iraq to Libya and Syria. If you turn on CNN or FOX News, read the New York Times or listen to NPR, you aren't getting the real story. Here are 10 things the U.S. corporate media won't tell you about what's happening in Ukraine.
1. Washington planned the coup in Ukraine.
U.S. State Department official Victoria Nuland was caught on tape plotting who would be the next head of Ukraine. She bragged that the U.S. had spent $5 billion funding the so-called democracy movement there. Senator John McCain went to Kiev, spoke at rallies and was photographed with the leader of the fascist Svoboda party. Neo-Nazi forces took over buildings and threw out the elected government in a coup d'etat, then passed new laws with no quorum in the parliament.
2. There has been no Russian invasion.
Washington officials have threatened Russia for "invading" Ukraine. It's a Big Lie meant to cover up U.S. involvement in the coup. Russia has a military base in Crimea, a predominately Russian ethnic area, and is legally allowed to station up to 25,000 troops in the country. Russia has said it may act to protect civilians if they are threatened by the neo-Nazis in Kiev. That is all.
3. The U.S. war buildup.  
The Navy has deployed the USS Truxton, a warship armed with guided missiles, to the Black Sea. Six F-15 fighter jets and 60 military personnel have been sent to Lithuania, in addition to those already stationed there. The U.S. and EU are imposing sanctions and travel bans on Russian officials. Politicians from Hillary Clinton to John McCain have compared Russian President Vladimir Putin to Hitler. When preparing for war, the U.S. always uses this bogus comparison to demonize leaders of opponent countries.
4. Neo-Nazis dominate the new government.
The openly racist, anti-Semitic and pro-Hitler Svoboda party is one of three major parties in the government. Svoboda led the street actions that forced elected President Yanukovych to flee. The Right Sector, armed fascists who have beaten opponents and vandalized public property, are now in charge of the military. Immediately after the coup, Ukraine's chief rabbi, Moshe Reuven Azman, urged Jews to flee Kiev. The government's first act was to ban the use of Russian and other minority languages. Opponents of the coup have been beaten, disappeared, or had their offices and homes vandalized and burned.
5. Coup leaders hired snipers to justify their takeover.
A leaked call between Estonian and European Union officials reveals that people behind the new government hired snipers to kill protesters and police in Kiev. President Yanukovych was blamed for the killings and this was used to justify the coup.
6. Wall Street and Big Oil want to control Ukraine - and Russia.
Oil and gas pipelines in Ukraine bring fuel from Russia to Europe. Big Oil wants to control the pipelines to cut the flow from Russia and hike their own profits. The U.S. has even offered the new government gas from dangerous fracking drilling here! Russia is the world's largest producer of gas, oil and industrial minerals. They want to break up Russia too. Wall Street would love to get its claws deeper into Ukraine and Russia - to drive up profits and push down wages for workers here and there.
7. NATO's drive to expand.
As part of the Western drive to dismantle Russia, the Pentagon wants to establish military bases on the Ukraine/Russia border. The U.S. dominated NATO alliance has expanded aggressively into eastern Europe in the past 20 years, adding 12 countries to its roster so far. U.S./ NATO forces continue to occupy Afghanistan to the south.
8. Billions for coup in Ukraine, cuts for food stamps in U.S.
In early February, Congress and the Obama administration agreed to cut SNAP food assistance benefits for hungry families by $8.7 billion, claiming there's no money. Yet just weeks later, they announced $10 billion in assistance to the neo-Nazis in Kiev. Secretary of State John Kerry personally delivered the first billion on March 4.
9. Power for the 1%, misery for workers.
The new regime has appointed wealthy oligarchs as governors of rebellious regions of Eastern Ukraine. It's also agreed to an IMF austerity plan drafted by Washington to cut workers' pensions, unemployment insurance and social programs - just like the cutbacks workers from Detroit to Greece face.
10. People across Ukraine are fighting back.
People in Eastern Ukraine and throughout the country are organizing against the coup. Some have taken over regional and city buildings and refused to hand them over to the new authorities. Others are marching on military bases and demanding that the troops not obey the commands of the neo-Nazis in Kiev. Some are calling on the Russian government to protect and assist them. The people of Ukraine remember well what Nazi rule was like during World War II, and they will not stand for it again.
Get informed!
Find more information on Ukraine and upcoming actions at

IACenter.org
Join us! Educate, organize and protest.
Let's stop the next U.S. war before it starts.
International Action Center 
Variety of downloadable signs helpful for
Ukraine No War demonstrations

www.iactucson.org/signs
 Statements & further reading   
United National Antiwar Coalition (UNAC) demands
'U.S. hands off Ukraine and Venezuela"
http://nepajac.org/UNAC_030614.html
Veterans for Peace - San Diego:
"Preparing for war with Russia"
sdvfp.org/preparing-for-war-with-russia/
Glen Ford:
"Hillary and other assorted barbarians at Russia's gate"
www.blackagendareport.com/content/hillary-and-other-assorted-barbarians-russia%E2%80%99s-gate
Ajamu Baraka:
"Ukraine and the Pathology of the Liberal Worldview:
An African American Perspective"
www.counterpunch.org/2014/03/07/ukraine-and-the-pathology-of-the-liberal-worldview/
Transcript of leaked Victoria Nuland-Geoffrey Pyatt call
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-26079957

 
------------------------------------------------



IAC Solidarity Center
147 W 24th St
2nd FL
New York, NY 10011



[and PICK UP a free copy of Remember These Children - thanks to Bob Cable!]


Tears of Gaza

Showing Thursday, March 20, in Cambridge
[please download & distribute flyer]
Disturbing, powerful and emotionally devastating, Tears of Gaza is less a conventional documentary than a record—presented with minimal gloss—of the 2008 to 2009 bombing of Gaza by the Israeli military (with overwhelming approval and support of Israelis).
Norwegian director Vibeke Løkkeberg uses local Palestinian crews to provide footage of a Palestinian reality largely unseen by the Western media. Løkkeberg’s film tracks the everyday existence of a people living in a city ill-prepared to cope with a tragedy of such scale; it captures the stories of three children surviving in Gaza's impoverished infrastructure.
"Few antiwar films register with the disturbing immediacy and visceral terror of Tears of Gaza. Almost purely observational, "Tears" doesn't take sides as much as obliterate politics: the bullet holes in the 2-year-olds did not arrive by accident... The inherent cruelty of so much of the action, committed against civilians with very little infrastructure, services or commercial goods, much less equipment to fight fires, comes through loud and clear... Production values are good overall, but the cinematography is the standout..." ~ John Anderson, Variety

“We must blow Gaza back to the Middle Ages, destroying all the infrastructure Including roads and water” ~ Eli Yishai, Israeli Deputy Prime Minister, 2001

"The UN has repeatedly found Israeli’s actions in Gaza to be a war crime.  [destroying infrastructure, targeting civilians, using indiscriminate force, using incendiary devices - white phosphorus ...]  ~Washington's blog


When/where
doors open 6:40; film starts promptly 7pm
243 Broadway, Cambridge - corner of Broadway and Windsor,
entrance on Windsor
rule19.org/videos

Please join us for a stimulating night out; bring your friends!
free film & free door prizes[donations are encouraged]feel free to bring your own snacks and soft drinks - no alcohol allowed
"You can't legislate good will - that comes through education." ~ Malcolm X

UPandOUT film series - see rule19.org/videos

Why should YOU care? It's YOUR money that pays for US/Israeli wars - on Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Palestine, Libya. Syria, Iran, So America, etc etc - for billionaire bailouts, for ever more ubiquitous US prisons, for the loss of liberty and civil rights...





Tue, Mar 11, 2014 12:25 PM
CIW list header
You CAN go home again… 

CIW returns to Louisville, the birthplace of Fair Food, to visit with dear old friends and rekindle powerful alliances for the Wendy’s campaign!
ky6
In March, 2005, Taco Bell’s parent company Yum Brands, based in Louisville, KY, signed the first-ever Fair Food agreement with the CIW after four long years of boycott.  During those four years, we built deep and lasting friendships with many, many residents of Louisville, people with an abiding belief in justice, in human rights, and in the faith that we can, through our concerted efforts, build a better, more humane world.
But the Campaign for Fair Food did not end with the Taco Bell agreement.  That was just the beginning, and since 2005 much has transpired.  In Immokalee and in Louisville, new children have come into the world and grown into little people, while other children have grown and left home for college and to build their own families.  Among our Louisville allies, many have taken new jobs and launched new directions in their lives, while others have retired and started new chapters in theirs.  And across the country, eleven new corporations have signed Fair Food agreements, while the Campaign for Fair Food has not only grown, but given birth to the groundbreaking Fair Food Program, changing forever how workers are treated in Florida’s fields and the relationship of farmworkers to the industry in which they toil.
Yesterday, the Campaign for Fair Food came home again, to the place where Fair Food was born, to continue the campaign to bring Wendy’s — the final fast-food holdout — into the fold.  And Louisville, as if it were just yesterday that we had last stood together in the streets demanding a penny more per pound from Taco Bell, answered the call...
ky2
The CIW's historic tour of Louisville, more photos from the 100-person action at Wendy's, and a video short await you at the CIW website!
You are subscribed to the CIW Mailing List as: alfredjohnson34@comcast.net
Click here to unsubscribe.
Coalition of Immokalee Workers • PO Box 603, Immokalee, FL 34143 • (239) 657-8311 • workers@ciw-online.org
CIW list header
“This ain’t a protest, this is a celebration…”
“Human rights have arrived in Florida’s fields, and Publix, you are late to the party!”

Those are the words of Pedro Lopez (below, right) – jaranero extraordinaire and the CIW’s most trusted emcee for tours, fasts, and marches since anyone can remember — at the rally yesterday outside a Nashville, TN, Publix, as nearly 200 people gathered following a 3-mile march through the city that once again put smiles on the faces of countless Nashville residents and reminded Publix of the remarkable transformation taking place in Florida’s fields on which it has turned its back.
nash11
Pedro was right, and today we wanted to just share that party — organized by our tireless friends at Nashville Fair Food and Dignidad Obrera — through a gallery of shots from yesterday’s march and a video that captures its spirit.
You are subscribed to the CIW Mailing List as: alfredjohnson34@comcast.net
Click here to unsubscribe.
Coalition of Immokalee Workers • PO Box 603, Immokalee, FL 34143 • (239) 657-8311 • workers@ciw-online.org
CIW tumblrCIW twitterCIW facebook page

Dear Al,
We are 5 days away from the largest annual peace event in Massachusetts. It comes as the two most heavily armed nuclear powers maneuver on Ukraine's borders and as the US continues with its drone strikes, Afghanistan occupation and its regime change efforts from Syria to Venezuela.  JOIN US this Sunday, March 16, to stand for Peace!

People's Parade for Peace, Equality, Jobs, Environmental Stewardship, Social & Economic Justice - Sunday, March 16

Unite, Participate, Celebrate

Sunday, March 16, 2014, 2:00 pm *** Assembly Time Changed! ***
D Street & West Broadway, South Boston • Broadway MBTA (Red Line) 
 • Look for white "Vets for Peace" Flags
*** Note New Start Time! *** Assemble: 2pm.  Parade start: 3pm   Sign Up to Attend and Bring your Organization's Banner!

Veterans For Peace is organizing what parade organizers call the only “Peace Parade” in the country. The Peace Parade is energizing, with great music, great messages and just a lot of fun for everyone. It is also an important opportunity to send a strong message that the American people are determined to reverse the militarist foreign policy that literally threatens the survival of our planet and steals food from the table of the hungry and housing from the homeless.
The Peace Parade steps off behind the official St. Patrick's Day Parade which was initiated to celebrate Irish culture and contributions to our country. Sadly, in recent years, the official parade has become most famous or notorious for discrimination and exclusion.  Exclusion of the peace message. Exclusion of demands for justice. and most notably exclusion of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) community. Even the intervention of Mayor Walsh failed to change this policy of exclusion.  LGBTQ groups will march in South Boston on March 16 in the welcoming and inclusive Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade, together with contingents demanding justice for labor, environmental survival, economic and social justice.


Our opportunity to be heard for peace and justice will be greater this year than ever before. In years past the barracades were removed after the official parade and street sweepers thundered down the route of march before the Peace Parade was allowed to step off, discouraging spectators from remaining. This year, Mayor Walsh has committed that the barricades will remain in place and the sweepers will come AFTER the Peace Parade.

People's Parade for Peace, Equality, Jobs, Environmental Stewardship, Social & Economic Justice

Unite, Participate, Celebrate

Sunday, March 16, 2014, 2:00 pm *** Assembly Time Changed! ***
D Street & West Broadway, South Boston • Broadway MBTA (Red Line) 
 • Look for white "Vets for Peace" Flags
*** Note New Start Time!  *** Assemble: 2pm.  Parade start: 3pm   Sign Up to Attend and Bring your Organization's Banner!
There are several DIVISIONS marching in the parade, as well as two marching bands and other musical groups. Duck Boat, bus and Trolley rides ave available for those who do not choose or are not able to walk the entire route but want to make their statement. In addition to the Peace Division, there will be divisions representing: Veterans groups;  LGBTQ groups; faith groups; environmental groups; community social and economic justice groups; labor groups; political groups. Please invite your group(s) to come!
Contact: Massachusetts Peace Action, Cole Harrison, info@masspeaceaction.org, 617-354-2169; for the Peace Division or Veterans for Peace, Pat Scanlon, info@massvfp.org, 978-475-1776; faith groups contact Lara Hoke, minister@uuandover.org .

Logistics & Directions

Sign Up to Attend and Bring your Organization's Banner!
The parade route is 4.5 miles and ends at Andrew Station.
Rides along the parade route are available for those who need them, but please let us know ahead of time that you may need a ride.
Come by T if at all possible as the area will be very congested. Broadway is the closest MBTA subway station.
Parking is available for participants in the St. Patrick’s Peace Parade. Vehicles must enter from the north from Summer Street onto D Street; the parking lot is at 383 D Street. Look for the lot with 40 foot white truck trailers.   Allow extra time for traffic.

Directions

From North Route I-93 to South Station exit (20 A). Merge onto Purchase Street to light (100 feet). Make a left onto Summer Street (will pass South Station on right). Go approx. 1 mile to Convention Center. Turn right onto D Street, parking lot .2 mile up on left, (look for VFP Flag)
From South
Route I-93 – Take exit 20 toward South Station. Follow signs for Chinatown, continue straight onto Lincoln Street, turn right onto Kneeland Street, turn left onto Atlantic, south Station will be up on your right. Take a right onto Summer Street. Go approx. 1 mile to Convention Center. Turn right onto D Street, parking lot .2 mile up on left, (look for VFP Flag)
Thanks are due to the Smedley Butler Bridgade of the Veterans for Peace for leading the organizing of the Fourth Annual Saint Patrick’s Peace Parade. 

Click the button below to contribute directly to  help support the Peace Parade.


PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!
Yours For Peace and Justice
cole picturesignature
Cole Harrison
Executive Director, Massachusetts Peace Action

Join Massachusetts Peace Action - or renew your membership today!  
Dues are $40/year for an individual, $65 for a family, or $10 for student/unemployed/low income.  Members vote for leadership and endorsements, receive newsletters and discounts on event admissions.  Donate now and you will be a member in good standing through December 2014!  Your financial support makes this work possible!
PayPal - The safer, easier way to pay online!
Massachusetts Peace Action, 11 Garden St., Cambridge, MA 02138
617-354-2169  • info@masspeaceaction.org • Follow us on Facebook or Twitter


This Saturday, March 15th at 2pm
Join the National Day of Action
March for 15 in Boston!
 
 
  
From Seattle to Tampa, from Los Angeles to Boston, workers and activists nationwide are fighting for a $15/hr minimum wage. March 15th will be a national day of action where working people nationwide will show their support for a $15/hr minimum wage.
 
In Boston this campaign is already underway, and on March 15th we will be marching from the State House in solidarity with our brothers and sisters across the state and across the country. Join us on Saturday to show that Boston supports a living wage for all workers!
 
 
For any questions about this event or about the campaign for 15 Now, please email us at 15NowNewEngland@gmail.com or call (857) 615-5082
For admission we ask for a donation of around $5, but no one will be turned away because they cant pay. 
2pm Saturday
March 15th 
Mass State House
 Beacon and Park St
Boston, MA 01233

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