Danielle Crittenden2013-05-24T04:59:37-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=danielle-crittendenCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Danielle CrittendenGood old fashioned elbow grease.Hope, Change and Traffic Jamstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.25196672013-01-21T21:09:03-05:002013-03-23T05:12:01-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
As we crawled past the vice president's mansion we were brought to a stop again by more sirens and flashing lights. Three white mini-buses, each escorted by speeding police cars blaring with self-importance, raced by us. The traffic resumed its creeping pace.
"Huh. Mini-buses. That's unusual. Who was in those do you think?"
Decoding motorcades is something of a Washington car game. "Not the vice president, obviously," my son replied. "He's always in a black car with tinted windows. And there wasn't a second car so it couldn't be the president." (The second car serves as a decoy. The same when the president flies over the city in his helicopter, Marine One. You can tell it's him because it's trailed by a twin.)
"And there were no motorcycles."
"Right. I don't think it was anyone super-important. Presidential relatives maybe?"
"Could be. Or maybe congressmen being shuttled from event to event."
"Yeah, that makes sense." We both glanced at the clock again. We were barely a mile from the house and a quarter hour had passed.
"Do you remember when Biden made me late for school?" my son asked.
"Hah, no. Remind me."
"So I overslept one morning but I managed to make the bus, and I was like a minute away from the school -- I was just going to make it -- when the vice president's motorcade suddenly appeared and stopped traffic. Got a late slip. I was really pissed off."
He considered what he'd just said and smiled. "I guess not many kids can say the vice president made them late for class."
"It's a weird city to grow up in," I agreed.
IT WAS THAT kind of weekend -- for the permanent residents of the capital a combination of celebration and hassle. Flocks of circling helicopters thwack, thwack, thwacked overhead like noisy mechanical geese. The inaugural parties were no less gridlocked than the streets.
Daily Beast/Newsweek held what was billed a bipartisan brunch at Cafe Milano, Washington's equivalent of Tavern on the Green. It proved to be bipartisan on many fronts: Grover Norquist poked through the same buffet as Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaragosa. Harvey Weinstein and Eva Longoria mingled with policy heavyweights such as former defense secretary William Cohen; Arianna Huffington broke bread with our hostess Tina Brown -- two rival Internet queens cheerfully holding court over mimosas and sparkling water.
It's an unofficial rule here that the best Washington parties are given by New Yorkers (Exhibit A: the annual Vanity Fair after-party at the White House Correspondent's Dinner). Our own parties tend towards the stodgy and brutal, much like the city itself.
So if you live outside Washington, the phrase "inaugural ball" might conjure up images of princesses and glass slippers. Think again.
I attended my first (and only) inaugural ball in 1989. A friend of ours had scored tickets to the Texas ball, to be held that year at the Air and Space Museum. Of course it was THE ball to go to, given the Texan connections of our newly elected president, the first George Bush.
I'd like to tell you that the evening went magically: that we drank flutes of champagne and nibbled on blini as we watched the new president and first lady dance to an 18-piece orchestra. I'd like to tell you that I exchanged witticisms with incoming cabinet ministers and was even asked to dance by one of the president's sons (who knew one day he would become president?!).
The reality was -- well, try to imagine attending a party at O'Hare airport, lines and security included. Imagine standing in topply, impractical heels and shivering in bare shoulders as the inaugural equivalent of TSA agents inspected ID and hustled you through metal detectors. Imagine then stepping into the vastness of a Smithsonian museum, as crowded as a departure lounge on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Except here everyone is drunk (and you can't figure out how this is possible because it will eventually take you two hours to find the bar and shove your way to the front for one lousy drink). Did the president and the first lady arrive already? Did they dance? You don't know because the dance floor area is similarly impossible to navigate. I remember the most exciting moment of the evening was sighting Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, bow tie slightly askew, traveling on a down escalator as we went up.
ON INAUGURATION DAY 2013, Martin Luther King day, the city was as quiet as a church before the bride and groom march down the aisle.
Again I found myself driving downtown, this time with my husband, on our way to watch the festivities from the rooftop balcony of the Canadian embassy. Once every four years, the Canadians have the best seats in the house: From the embassy's roof, you can see the vast sweep of the Capitol and its grounds; the inaugural parade route passes directly below.
We were able to penetrate as near as three blocks from the embassy before we were prohibited by perimeter security from going any further. I argued with my husband about where to park: there was definitely an apocalyptic feeling to the empty streets. By that time most of the crowds were already at the mall and what remained were patrols of heavily armed soldiers, humvees, police and sharpshooters. I insisted that we should just park illegally -- seriously, were the cops going to ticket us today? They obviously had bigger duties to attend to.
My husband retorted that he wasn't worried about being ticketed or even towed. "Today is the sort of day they'll just blow up the car. We'll return and find all that's left is scorched pavement and bits of melted rubber."
He had a point there. So we drove around until we found a meter that didn't have a temporary no-parking sign taped to it, buttoned up our coats and walked in the direction of the cheers. It was definitely a more subdued day than four years ago, when the entire city felt seized by Obama-mania. Even the street vendors seemed to offer fewer souvenir tchochkes -- the tables of "Obama Nation" T-shirts and commemorative crockery looked positively meager in comparison to the riches of memorabilia four years ago. I suppose you could build a whole political thesis out of this observation: What does it say about Obama's diminished popularity? etc., etc. But the Washingtonian in me thought, "Meh. Second term."
We reached the gates of the embassy, where security guards festooned in bright red-and-white "Canada/USA" scarves passed out red-and-white striped mittens to the arriving guests. A huge tailgate party was taking place on the embassy's front steps. A long line had formed in front of a food truck serving "Beaver Tails," which is the Canadian equivalent of funnel cakes: flattened pastries globbed with assorted sticky toppings.
Inside Ambassador Gary Doer and his wife Ginny graciously greeted throngs of politicians and diplomats. Who wouldn't prefer to watch the ceremony from this glorious perch, well-fed and warm, a glass of wine or steaming cup of Tim Horton's coffee in hand?
Canada's feisty foreign minister, John Baird, was this year's embassy guest of honor. I'd met him at a pre-inaugural event the night before and was impressed to see him leave in a Diamond taxi cab. No black tinted windows or earpieced security goons for this guy. Not even an Uber! A refreshing contrast to the limo wars that were being waged outside pre-inaugural parties all over the city. (I overheard one elegantly coiffed lady complain to her husband -- as they stood freezing and waiting for their car to be called up in front of a hotel -- that they should have brought her car because it "wasn't black like all the others. We might see it more quickly.")
AFTER MARVELING AT the view of the Capitol, dressed up in its best bunting, I retreated to the warm indoors to watch the ceremony on a big screen. The convivial party chatter hushed when the president took the Oath of Office, and remained respectfully silent throughout his speech.
I felt, as always on these occasions, that for all the cynicism and partisanship that pervades every waking moment in Washington, these events have the power to make it stop. Even if just for a quarter hour. The solemnity of the proceedings underscores the fact that, for better or worse, we're going to be married to this president for the next four years. As with a marriage ceremony, skeptics are moved to suspend their misgivings for at least a few brief minutes -- and instead reflect on the greatness of the institution as a whole. That a president may fall short of his loftily stated promises is to be expected. The gimlet-eyed aunt in the front row may well be right and will have many years to tell you so. Yet in the drama of the moment, you hope for the best. You want, for just a few seconds, the angry shouting and jeering to stop before --
"I don't think it was a good as 2008."
"He was basically saying, 'screw you' to the Republicans --"
"I was surprised he didn't talk more about guns."
"I thought Michelle looked angry."
Oh well. That's the nature of our democratic politics, as epitomized by these quadrennial rituals of renewal. Hope and celebration tempered by opposition, cynicism and traffic jams.]]>Introducing The School Lunch Projecttag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.22857192012-12-17T09:32:11-05:002013-02-16T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
Each month a menu comes home in her backpack. I survey the offerings provided by a food service company contracted by the D.C. school board. We're now in the post-Michelle-Obama school lunch era, and school boards are no longer able to get away with classifying ketchup and French Fries as "vegetables." Thus the menu itself reads like something from a trendy farm-to-table restaurant:
Rotisserie-style chicken, whole wheat roll OR whole-wheat spaghetti with Marinara and mozarella cheese. Local collard greens. Chilled peaches.
Or how about this, which was served earlier this month, on the caterer-declared "South Korean Embassy Day!":
Korean Bibimbap Marinated Chicken w/brown rice (with a marinated tofu vegetarian option); Korean-style mushroom, carrot and cucumber salad, with seasoned broccoli and a fresh tangerine.
"I would love to eat this food!" I tell my daughter. "What is wrong with this food? It sounds delicious -- and certainly better than anything I throw together for you. "
She takes the menu from me and examines it with the disdainful air of a defense attorney before placing it down on the kitchen counter.
"Mother," she says, "the food is nothing like this. They just write it this way to fool the parents."
My daughter goes on to remind me that her particular school lacks a proper cafeteria, in which the food can be prepared and heated. Instead it is delivered by a truck, in big serving vats. It is then spooned onto the children's plates by a lunch lady.
"It's disgusting, Mom," she continues. "The chicken is, like, rat meat or something. I don't know where they get it. Probably from rats. The sauce is slimy or gooey, and there are always these things in it --"
"Vegetables?" I suggest.
"Maybe they're vegetables. My friend once found an insect in his. It was so gross. And Miss [Lunch Lady] -- the other day I saw her sneeze into the soup and ..."
"Okay, enough, enough! I get it!"
I guess the problem is that once you stop serving kids pizzas or geometrically shaped deep-fried food -- even if it's deep-fried rat -- it ceases to be recognizably "safe" and "familiar," with no unexpected texture or sauce. (And it may also be, as my daughter suggests, that there is a certain amount of caterer spin going on as to what kids are actually being served.) That the daily consumption of a junky diet is going to lead, however, to the heart disease or diabetes that one day might kill them is not something that troubles their young minds.
Turns out, students like their shockingly unhealthy lunches. They resent the First Lady's interference with their menus and government-imposed mandates to eliminate junk food and sodas from their lunch trays. They don't, frankly, care about rampant childhood and youth obesity rates and the importance of healthy eating habits. They're happy to tell Jamie Oliver to go stick that carrot up his ... Well, you get the idea. And if you don't, in that typical Gen-Y way, a group of students produced a YouTube music video, rather melodramatically entitled "We Are Hungry," to complain. The video has received more than 1.1 million hits.
So what to do? The students scored a victory of sorts recently when Congress last week relented on the calorie ceiling, allowing "school lunch planners to use as many grains and as much meat as they want.
"This flexibility is being provided to allow more time for the development of products that fit within the new standards while granting schools additional weekly menu planning options to help ensure that children receive a wholesome, nutritious meal every day of the week," [Agriculture Secretary Tom] Vilsack said in a letter to Sen. John Hoeven, R-N.D.
The new guidelines were intended to address increasing childhood obesity levels. They set limits on calories and salt, and phase in more whole grains. Schools must offer at least one vegetable or fruit per meal. The department also dictated how much of certain food groups could be served.
Until 1980, fewer than one in 10 people were obese. Since then, rates doubled or tripled and in 19 of 34 OECD countries the majority of the population is now overweight or obese. OECD projections suggest that more than two out of three people will be overweight or obese in some OECD countries by 2020.
These countries too are facing upheavals in their diets, their ways of lives, their habits of eating. It's not just American kids who aren't getting enough exercise or consuming too many sodas and processed foods.
Thus the idea of launching a School Lunch Project: We wish to create a forum in which we can swap stories, share ideas, and start tackling the problem together -- not simply as "societies" or "governments" but as communities, mothers, fathers, experts, and yes, you too kids. This project will run across HuffPost's international sites -- in the U.S., Canada, UK, Italy, France, and Spain -- where we hope to start the conversation locally as well, in whatever dialect you happen to speak.
To kick it off, HuffPost worked with the data research company RIWI to produce the first "High School Lunch Index" -- which surveys the attitudes of high school students towards their school lunches in six countries. You can read about what students think here.
And if you're wondering what DO students in those countries typically face in their cafeterias each day -- click on the slideshow below.
]]>Vi presentiamo lo "School Lunch Project"tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.23144672012-12-17T09:30:00-05:002013-02-16T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
Ogni mese, nel suo zaino, arriva a casa un menu. Io passo in rassegna le proposte offerte da una società di ristorazione a cui il consiglio scolastico del Distretto federale della Columbia ha concesso l'appalto. Ora siamo nell'era del pranzo scolastico post Michelle Obama, e i consigli scolastici non possono più cavarsela classificando il ketchup e le patatine fritte come "ortaggi". Perciò il menu somiglia a quello di un agriturismo alla moda:
GUARDA LE GALLERY IN FONDO ALLA PAGINA
Pollo allo spiedo, panino di farina integrale OPPURE spaghetti integrali alla marinara e mozzarella. Cavolo verde da coltivazione locale. Macedonia di pesche.
E che dire di quest'altro, servito questo mese nel giorno che il servizio di ristorazione ha dichiarato "Il giorno dell'ambasciata sudcoreana!":
Bibimbap con pollo marinato alla coreana e riso integrale (con un'alternativa vegetariana di tofu marinato); funghi alla coreana, insalata di carote e cetrioli con broccoli conditi e un mandarino fresco.
"Io sarei contenta di mangiare questi piatti!", dico a mia figlia. "Cosa c'è che non va in questi piatti? Sembrano squisiti, e di certo migliori di qualunque pasto possa preparati io in quattro e quattr'otto."
Lei prende il menu dalle mie mani e lo esamina con l'aria sdegnosa di un avvocato difensore, dopodiché lo posa sul ripiano della cucina.
"Mamma", dice, "quel cibo non è affatto così. Lo descrivono in questo modo per infinocchiare i genitori."
Mia figlia prosegue per ricordarmi che la sua scuola non ha una mensa vera e propria in cui si possa preparare e riscaldare il cibo. Il cibo viene consegnato da un camion, in grandi recipienti. Poi un'addetta al pranzo lo versa a cucchiaiate nei piatti dei bambini.
"E' disgustoso, mamma", continua. "Il pollo sembra carne di topo o qualcosa del genere. Non so dove lo prendano. Forse dai topi. Il condimento è viscido o appiccicoso, e ha sempre dentro delle cose..."
"Verdure?" suggerisco.
"Magari fossero verdure. Una volta un mio compagno ci ha trovato dentro un insetto. Era schifoso. E la signorina [addetta al pranzo], l'altro giorno l'ho vista starnutire nella zuppa e..."
"D'accordo basta, basta così. Ho capito!"
Immagino che il problema sia dovuto al fatto che, quando smetti di servire ai bambini della pizza o del cibo fritto tagliato in forme geometriche - anche se la frittura è di topo - quel cibo smette di essere riconoscibile, "sicuro" e "familiare", privo di consistenze o condimenti inaspettati. (E può anche essere, come suggerisce mia figlia, che da parte della società di ristorazione ci sia una qualche forma di imbonimento su quello che viene effettivamente servito ai bambini). In ogni caso, il fatto che il consumo quotidiano di cibo spazzatura comporti l'insorgere del diabete o di malattie cardiache che un giorno potrebbero ucciderli non è una cosa che turba le loro giovani menti.
E mia figlia non è l'unica a pensarla così. Quest'autunno è scoppiata una sorta di guerra civile tra gli studenti americani e le loro mense, quando è entrato in vigore il limite imposto dal Congresso di 850 calorie per il pranzo.
Si scopre che gli studenti adorano quei pranzi assurdamente insalubri. Provano avversione per l'ingerenza della First Lady nei loro menu come per l'obbligo imposto dal governo di eliminare il cibo spazzatura e le bevande gassate dai loro vassoi a pranzo. Francamente, a loro non interessa nulla del tasso crescente di obesità nell'infanzia e nell'adolescenza, né badano all'importanza di osservare sane abitudini alimentari. Sono felici di dire a Jamie Oliver di infilarsi quella carota su per il... Beh, avete capito.
E se non avete capito, nelle tipiche modalità della Generazione Y, alcuni studenti hanno realizzato e caricato su YouTube un video musicale dal titolo piuttosto melodrammatico, "We Are Hungry" ("Abbiamo fame"), per esprimere le loro rimostranze. "We Are Hungry Il video ha ricevuto più di un milione e centomila contatti.
Che fare, quindi? Gli studenti hanno riportato una sorta di vittoria la scorsa settimana, quando il Congresso ha revocato il tetto massimo delle calorie, permettendo ai "pianificatori dei pranzi scolastici di usare quanti cereali e quanta carne desiderano".
"Questa flessibilità viene concessa affinché ci sia più tempo per sviluppare prodotti che rispettino i nuovi standard, garantendo al contempo che nella pianificazione dei menu settimanali le scuole offrano scelte che assicurino che i bambini ricevano un pasto salutare e nutriente ogni giorno della settimana", ha comunicato [il Ministro dell'Agricoltura Tom] Vilsack in una lettera al senatore John Hoeven, R-N.D.
Le nuove direttive mirano ad affrontare i crescenti tassi di obesità infantile. Pongono un limite alle calorie e all'uso del sale, e introducono un maggiore apporto di cereali integrali. Le scuole devono offrire almeno una verdura o un frutto a ogni pasto. Il ministero ha anche indicato la quantità di certi gruppi alimentari che può essere servita.
E non sono solo i politici e le scuole statunitensi a lottare con questo problema. Secondo studi recenti compiuti dall'Organizzazione per la cooperazione e lo sviluppo economico (Ocse), nei 34 paesi democratici che ne sono membri:
Fino al 1980, meno di una persona su dieci era affetta da obesità. Da allora il tasso è raddoppiato o triplicato, e in 19 dei 34 paesi membri dell'Ocse la maggioranza della popolazione è attualmente in sovrappeso o obesa. Le proiezioni dell'Ocse suggeriscono che in alcuni paesi dell'Ocse, entro il 2020, più di due persone su tre saranno in sovrappeso o obese.
Anche questi paesi stanno vivendo degli sconvolgimenti nella loro dieta, nel loro stile di vita, nelle loro abitudini alimentari. Non sono solo i bambini americani che non fanno abbastanza movimento o che consumano troppe bevande gassate e cibi trattati.
Perciò è nata l'idea di lanciare un "Progetto per il pranzo scolastico": desideriamo creare un forum in cui possiamo raccontarci delle storie, scambiarci delle idee e iniziare a fronteggiare il problema insieme, non solo a livello di "società" o "governi" ma a livello di comunità, tra madri, padri, esperti e, sì, anche voi ragazzi. Questo progetto viaggerà nei siti internazionali dell'HuffPost, negli Stati Uniti, in Canada, nel Regno Unito, in Italia, Francia e Spagna, dove auspichiamo di avviare un confronto anche a livello locale, in qualunque idioma voi parliate.
Per dare l'avvio, l'HuffPost ha lavorato con la Riwi, società di ricerca dati, per produrre il primo "Rapporto sul pranzo alle scuole superiori", che indaga l'atteggiamento degli studenti delle scuole superiori verso i loro pranzi scolastici in sei paesi. Puoi leggere quello che pensano gli studenti cliccando qui
E se ti stai chiedendo cosa trovano DAVVERO gli studenti nelle loro mense ogni giorno, guarda la galleria qui sotto.
]]>Os presentamos el Proyecto Comer en la Escuelatag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.23140672012-12-17T04:29:07-05:002013-02-15T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
Una vez al mes trae el menú en su mochila. Yo leo lo que ofrece la empresa de comidas contratada por el Departamento de Educación del Distrito de Columbia. Estamos en la era post- Michelle Obama de comida escolar, y los colegios ya no pueden hacer pasar el ketchup y las patatas fritas como "verduras". El menú es lo más parecido que he visto a un restaurante de moda:
Pollo asado, panecillo integral O espaguetis integrales con salsa marinara y mozzarella. Verduras de la huerta. Melocotones frescos.
¿Y qué me dicen de esto, que estaba en el menú de hace unos días, en una jornada declarada "Día de la Embajada de Corea del Sur"?
Pollo coreano Bibimbap marinado con arroz integral (con opción vegetariana de tofu marinado); champiñones a la coreana, ensalada de zanahoria y pepino con brócoli aderezado y una mandarina.
"¡Me encantaría comer esto!", le digo a mi hija. "¿Dónde está el problema? Tiene una pinta estupenda, desde luego mucho mejor que cualquier cosa que te pueda hacer yo".
Mi hija coge el menú y lo examina con el gesto desdeñoso de un abogado defensor antes de volver a colocarlo en el mostrador de la cocina.
"Madre", dice, "esto no tiene nada que ver con la comida. Lo ponen así para engañar a los padres".
Mi hija me recuerda que en su colegio no hay instalaciones en las que se pueda preparar y calentar la comida. En lugar de eso el almuerzo lo lleva un camión en grandes contenedores. Una empleada del comedor lo distribuye en los platos de los niños.
"Es una porquería, mamá", añade. "El pollo es una especie de carne de rata o algo así. No sé de dónde lo sacan. Seguramente es rata. La salsa es viscosa o pegajosa y siempre hay cosas flotando..."
"¿Verduras?", sugiero.
"A lo mejor son verduras. Una vez una amiga mía se encontró un insecto. Fue asqueroso. Y el otro día vi a la empleada del comedor estornudando en la sopa y..."
"¡Bueno, vale, vale! Ya me hago una idea".
Me imagino que el problema es que una vez que se deja de dar a los chicos comida como pizzas o fritos de diversas formas geométricas -incluso si se trata de rata frita-, deja de ser comida "segura" y "familiar", sin salsas o texturas desconocidas. (Y también es posible, como mi hija sugiere, que las empresas de comidas adornen las informaciones sobre lo que sirven a los niños). Ahora, el hecho de que el consumo diario de una dieta basura vaya a acabar provocándoles una enfermedad del corazón o una diabetes que algún día les pueda matar no es algo que altere sus jóvenes mentes.
Resulta que a los estudiantes les encantan sus menús tan tremendamente insanos. Les fastidia la intromisión de la Primera Dama en lo que comen y las decisiones oficiales destinadas a eliminar de sus bandejas la comida basura y los refrescos. Les dan absolutamente igual los desbocados índices de obesidad infantil y juvenil y la importancia de mantener hábitos saludables de alimentación. Están encantados de decirle a Jamie Oliver que se meta las zanahorias por donde le... Bueno, ya me entienden. Y si no me entienden, un grupo de estudiantes acaba de hacer, con ese típico estilo Generación Y, un vídeo musical en YouTube con el melodramático título de "Tenemos hambre" para protestar. Ya lo han visto más de 1,1 millones de personas.
¿Qué hacer? Los estudiantes se apuntaron un tanto la semana pasada cuando el Congreso flexibilizó el límite de calorías, permitiendo que "los que elaboran los menús escolares utilicen los cereales y la carne que deseen".
"Se concede esta flexibilidad para dar más tiempo a que se desarrollen productos que se ajusten a los nuevos criterios, al tiempo que se ofrecen a los centros escolares nuevas opciones para planear los menús semanales que garanticen que los jóvenes reciben cada día de la semana una comida completa y nutritiva", escribió en una carta el secretario de Agricultura, Tom Vilsack, al senador John Hoeven, republicano de Dakota del Norte.
"Los nuevos criterios están pensados para abordar los índices crecientes de obesidad infantil. Limitan la sal y las calorías, e introducen más cereales integrales. Los centros escolares deben ofrecer al menos una verdura o una fruta en cada comida. El departamento también establece la cantidad de determinados grupos de alimentos que puede servirse".
Los políticos y los colegios de EE UU no son los únicos que están lidiando con este asunto. Según recientes estudios de la OCDE entre su 34 países miembros:
Hasta 1980, menos de una de cada diez personas era obesa. Desde entonces, los índices se han duplicado o triplicado, y en 19 de los 34 países de la OCDE la mayoría de la población es ahora obesa o sufre exceso de peso. Las proyecciones de la OCDE sugieren que en 2020 más de dos tercios de la población sufrirán exceso de peso u obesidad en algunos de esos países.
Estos países también están sufriendo vuelcos en sus dietas, en su forma de vida, en sus hábitos alimentarios. Los chicos estadounidenses no son los únicos que no hacen suficiente ejercicio físico y consumen demasiados refresos y alimentos procesados.
De ahí la idea de lanzar el Proyecto Comer en la Escuela: queremos crear un foro en el que podamos intercambiar experiencias, compartir ideas y empezar a abordar juntos el problema, no solo desde las "sociedades" o los "gobiernos", sino como comunidades, madres, padres, expertos y, sí, vosotros también, chicos. Este proyecto se desarrollará en los sitios internacionales del HuffPost -Estados Unidos, Canadá, Reino Unido, Italia, Francia y España- donde confiamos en que se entable también un debate local, en cualquiera de los idiomas que se hablen.
Para ponerlo en marcha, HuffPost ha trabajado con una empresa de investigación con el fin de elaborar el primer Índice de Comidas de Instituto, en el que se sondean las opiniones de los estudiantes de bachillerato sobre sus almuerzos en seis países distintos.
Y si se están preguntando qué es lo que DE VERDAD suelen encontrarse los estudiantes de esos países en las cafeterías de sus centros cada día, vean la galería de fotos que presentamos.
]]>Que mangent nos enfants à l'école: opération cantines!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.23135142012-12-17T01:31:24-05:002013-02-15T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
Chaque mois, un menu apparaît dans son sac à dos. Je découvre les options offertes par le fournisseur du conseil scolaire de D.C. Les temps ont changé pour les déjeuners scolaires depuis les réformes de Michelle Obama, et les conseils scolaires n'ont plus le droit de nommer "légumes" les frites et le ketchup. Ainsi, le menu, qui ressemble à celui d'un restaurant à la mode "en direct de la ferme", se lit comme suit :
Poulet style-rôtisserie, petit pain blé entier OU spaghetti blé entier avec sauce marinera et fromage mozzarella. Chou vert local. Pêches refroidies.
Ou encore le menu suivant, servi plus tôt ce mois-ci, lors d'une "Journée de l'ambassade de la Corée du Sud", ainsi nommée par la le fournisseur:
Poulet bibimbap coréen mariné avec riz brun (en option végétarienne, le tofu mariné); champignon de style coréen, salade aux carottes et au concombre, avec du brocoli assaisonné et une tangerine fraiche.
"J'adorerai manger ça!", dis-je à ma fille. "Qu'est-ce qui est si horrible? Ça a l'air délicieux, bien plus que ce que je te prépare moi-même le matin."
Elle prend le menu et l'examine avec l'air dédaigneux d'un avocat pour la défense, avant de le déposer sur le comptoir de cuisine:
" Maman, la nourriture n'est pas du tout comme ça. Ils écrivent tout ça pour tromper les parents."
Ma fille continue en me rappelant que son école n'a pas de vraie cantine, où l'on peut préparer et cuire la nourriture. Les mets sont livrés plus tôt par camion, dans des gros plats de service. Ensuite, une cantinière les sert aux enfants à la cuillère.
"C'est dégoutant, Maman", continue-t-elle. "Le poulet, on dirait de la viande de rat ou quelque chose. Je ne sais pas d'où ça vient. Probablement des rats. La sauce est gluante et il y a toujours des choses là-dedans..."
"Des légumes?", proposè-je.
"Peut-être que ce sont des légumes. Une fois, mon ami a trouvé un insecte dans le sien. C'était tellement dégoutant. Et Madame [la cantinière], l'autre jour je l'ai vu éternuer dans la soupe et..."
"D'accord, assez, assez! J'ai compris!"
J'imagine qu'une fois que tu arrêtes de servir aux enfants des pizzas ou des mets frits en formes géométriques, même s'il s'agit de rat frit, la nourriture ne leur semble plus "inoffensive" ni "familière", d'autant plus avec une texture ou une sauce inattendue. (Et il est aussi possible, comme l'a suggéré ma fille, qu'il y ait une certaine liberté littéraire quant au contenu des menus par rapport à ce qui est servi en réalité.) En revanche, le fait que la consommation quotidienne de malbouffe mènera à une cardiopathie ou un diabète qui pourrait un jour les tuer n'est nulle part dans l'esprit de ces jeunes.
Il semblerait que les étudiants aiment vraiment leurs déjeuners de junk food. Ils en veulent à Michelle Obama, en pointe sur ces questions, d'avoir changé leurs menus et aux autorités d'avoir éliminé la malbouffe et les sodas de leurs plateaux repas. Ils ne veulent rien savoir des taux endémiques d'obésité chez l'enfant et de l'importance d'une saine alimentation. Ils sont heureux de dire à Jamie Oliver de se mettre une carotte dans le... Vous comprenez. Et si vous ne comprenez pas, dans une manière typique de cette jeune génération, un groupe d'élèves a créé une vidéo sur YouTube avec comme titre un peu mélodramatique " "We Are Hungry" [Nous avons faim], pour se plaindre. Le clip a été visionné plus de 1,1 million de fois.
Alors, que faire? Les élèves ont gagné une sorte de victoire la semaine dernière quand le Congrès a cédé, permettant aux planificateurs de menus de choisir la quantité de céréales et de viande qu'ils utilisent.
"Cette latitude est accordée pour permettre plus de temps au développement de produits conforment aux nouvelles normes, tout en donnant aux écoles de nouvelles options dans la planification de menus pour assurer que les enfants reçoivent un repas sain et nutritif chaque jour de la semaine," a écrit le [ministre de l'Agriculture Tom] Vilsack dans une lettre au Sénateur John Hoeven, R-N.D.
Les nouvelles normes avaient pour but de réduire les taux d'obésité chez les jeunes. Elles plaçaient des limites sur la quantité de calories et de sel, et ajoutaient plus de céréales complètes. Les écoles doivent offrir au moins un légume ou fruit par repas. Le ministère imposait aussi les quantités de certains types de nourriture qui peuvent être servies.
Jusqu'en 1980, moins d'une personne sur 10 était obèse. Depuis, les taux ont doublé ou triplé, et dans 19 des 34 pays de l'OCDE, la majorité de la population est maintenant en surpoids ou obèse. Les projections de l'OCDE suggèrent que plus de deux personnes sur trois seront en surpoids ou obèse dans certains pays membres d'ici 2020.
Ces pays aussi font face à des changements dans leur alimentation, leur mode de vie, leurs comportements alimentaires. Ce ne sont pas seulement les enfants américains qui ne font pas assez d'exercice ou qui consomment trop de soda ou de nourriture industrielle.
C'est ce qui nous a donné l'idée de créer l'Opération cantines : Nous voulons créer un forum où l'on pourra échanger des histoires, des idées, et commencer à s'attaquer au problème ensemble, pas simplement en tant que "société" ou "gouvernement", mais en tant que communautés, mères, pères, experts, et oui, aussi, vous les enfants. Ce projet s'étendra sur tous les sites internationaux du HuffPost, celui des États-Unis, du Canada, de la Grande-Bretagne, de l'Italie, de la France et de l'Espagne, et on espère aussi pouvoir démarrer la conversation à l'échelle locale, peu importe votre langue.
Pour commencer, Le HuffPost a fait appel à une entreprise de recherche de données statistiques RIWI pour créer le premier "Indice des déjeuners dans les écoles secondaires", qui étudie les attitudes des élèves au secondaire envers leurs déjeuners scolaires dans six pays. Vous pouvez lire ce que ces élèves pensent ici.
Et si vous voulez savoir ce que les élèves de ces pays DOIVENT affronter quotidiennement dans leurs cantines, cliquez sur le diaporama ci-dessous.
]]>Que mangent nos enfants à l'école: opération cantines!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.23160162012-12-17T01:31:24-05:002013-02-15T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
À chaque mois, un menu apparaît dans son sac à dos. Je prend compte des options offertes par le fournisseur en aliments du conseil scolaire de D.C. Les temps ont changé pour les déjeuners scolaires depuis les réformes de Michelle Obama, et les conseils scolaires n'ont plus le droit de nommer "légume" les frites et le ketchup. Ainsi, le menu, qui ressemble à celui d'un restaurant tendancieux "de la ferme à la table", se lit comme suit :
Poulet style-rôtisserie, petit pain blé entier OU spaghetti blé entier avec sauce marinera et fromage mozzarella. Chou vert local. Pèches refroidies.
Ou encore le menu suivant, servi plus tôt ce mois-ci, lors d'une "Journée de l'ambassade de la Corée du Sud", ainsi nommée par la le fournisseur en aliments :
Poulet bibimbap coréen mariné avec riz brun (en option végétarienne, le tofu mariné); champignon de style coréen, salade aux carottes et au concombre, avec du brocoli assaisonné et une tangerine fraiche.
"J'adorerai manger cette bouffe!", dis-je à ma fille. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle a de si mauvais? Ça semble délicieux, bien plus que ce que je te prépare moi-même le matin."
Elle prend le menu et l'examine avec l'air dédaigneux d'un avocat pour la défense, avant de le déposer sur le comptoir de cuisine.
"Maman ," elle me dit, "la nourriture n'est pas du tout comme ça. Ils écrivent tout ça pour tromper les parents."
Ma fille continue en me rappelant que son école n'a pas de vrai cantine, où l'on peut préparer et chauffer la nourriture. Les mets sont livrés plus tôt par camion, dans des gros plats de service. Ensuite, une cantinière les sert aux enfants à la cuillère.
"C'est dégoutant, Maman," elle me dit. "Le poulet, on dirait de la viande de rat ou quelque chose. Je ne sais pas d'où ça vient. Probablement des rats. La sauce est gluante et il y a toujours des choses là-dedans..."
"Des légumes?" je lui demande.
"Peut-être ce sont des légumes. Une fois, mon ami a trouvé un insecte dans le sien. C'était tellement dégoutant. Et Madame [la cantinière], l'autre jour je l'ai vu éternuer dans la soupe et..."
"D'accord, assez, assez! J'ai compris!"
J'imagine qu'une fois que tu arrêtes de servir aux enfants des pizzas ou des mets frits en formes géométriques, même si c'est du rat frit, la nourriture ne semble plus "inoffensif" et "familier", libre de toute texture ou sauce inattendue. (Et il est aussi possible, comme l'a suggéré ma fille, qu'il y ait une certaine liberté de la part des cantines quant à ce qu'ils servent en réalité.) Par contre, le fait que la consommation quotidienne de malbouffe mènera à la cardiopathie ou au diabète qui pourrait un jour les tuer est nulle part dans l'esprit de ces jeunes.
Il semblerait que les étudiants aiment leurs déjeuners extrêmement non nutritifs. Ils en veulent à la cantinière d'avoir changé leurs menus et aux mandats gouvernementaux pour avoir éliminé la malbouffe et les sodas de leurs cabarets. Ils ne veulent rien savoir des taux endémiques d'obésité chez l'enfant et de l'importance d'une seine alimentation. Ils sont heureux de dire à Jamie Oliver de se mettre une carotte dans son... Vous comprenez. Et si vous ne comprenez pas, dans une manière typique de cette jeune génération, un groupe d'élèves a créé une vidéo sur YouTube avec comme titre un peu mélodramatique " "We Are Hungry" [Nous avons faim], pour se plaindre. Le clip a été visionné plus de 1,1 million de fois.
Alors, que faire? Les élèves ont gagné une sorte de victoire la semaine dernière quand le Congrès a cédé, permettant aux planificateurs de menus de choisir la quantité de grains et de viande qu'ils utilisent.
"Cette latitude est accordée pour permettre plus de temps au développement de produits conforment aux nouvelles normes, tout en donnant aux écoles de nouvelles options dans la planification de menus pour assurer que les enfants reçoivent un repas sain et nutritif chaque jour de la semaine," a écrit le [ministre en agriculture Tom] Vilsack dans une lettre au Sénateur John Hoeven, R-N.D.
Les nouvelles normes avaient pour but de réduire les taux d'obésité chez les jeunes. Elles plaçaient des limites sur la quantité de calories et de sel, et ajoutaient plus de grains entiers. Les écoles doivent offrir au moins un légume ou fruit par repas. Le ministère imposait aussi les quantités de certains types de nourriture qui peuvent être servies.
Jusqu'en 1980, moins d'une personne sur 10 était obèse. Depuis, les taux ont doublé ou triplé, et dans 19 des 34 pays de l'OCDE, la majorité de la population est maintenant en surpoids ou obèse. Les projections de l'OCDE suggèrent que plus de deux personnes sur trois seront en surpoids ou obèse dans certains pays membres d'ici 2020.
Ces pays aussi font face à des changements dans leur alimentation, leur mode de vie, leurs comportements alimentaires. Ce ne sont pas seulement les enfants américains qui ne font pas assez d'exercice ou qui consomment trop de soda ou de nourriture industrielle.
C'est ce qui nous a donné l'idée de créer l'Opération cantines : Nous voulons créer un forum où l'on pourra échanger des histoires, des idées, et commencer à s'attaquer au problème ensemble, pas simplement en tant que "société" ou "gouvernement", mais en tant que communautés, mères, pères, experts, et oui, aussi, vous les enfants. Ce projet s'étendra sur tous les sites internationaux du HuffPost, celui des États-Unis, du Canada, de la Grande-Bretagne, de l'Italie, de la France et de l'Espagne, et on espère aussi pouvoir démarrer la conversation à l'échelle locale, peu importe votre langue.
Pour commencer, Le HuffPost a fait appel à une entreprise de recherche de données statistiques RIWI pour créer le premier "Indice des déjeuners aux écoles secondaires", qui étudie les attitudes des élèves au secondaire envers leurs déjeuners scolaires dans six pays. Vous pouvez lire ce que ces élèves pensent ici.
Et si vous voulez savoir ce que les élèves de ces pays DOIVENT affronter quotidiennement dans leurs cantines, cliquez sur le diaporama ci-dessous.
]]>Gourmet Polish Food? Who Knew?!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.21656672012-11-29T09:14:19-05:002013-01-29T05:12:02-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/From a Polish Country House Kitchen:
"What are you working on now?"
"A Polish cookbook."
Snickers or a perplexed look. Then, unfailingly, a reply along the following lines:
"How many recipes can you get out of boiled potatoes?"
Unfortunately for many of us, including even the millions of North Americans with Polish ancestry, the very term "Polish cooking" conjures up unfortunate memories of heavy, greasy dishes: the food of exile and poverty. Its reputation was not enhanced by 45 years of communism.
But as we happily discovered, the new Polish cuisine is not, as one might say, your grandmother's cooking.
Since the fall of communism in 1989, Polish cuisine, which had been something of a national secret -- sometimes restaurants were hidden away in private houses along with the underground printing presses -- burst into the open, along with free trade unions and democratic political parties. The first phase was chaotic, and often derivative. In Warsaw, new restaurants served pretentious French food, together with overpriced French wine. Meanwhile, Polish versions of "pizza" -- melted cheese and sautéed mushrooms on sourdough bread -- appeared in the provinces, along with McDonald's and even cheaper imitations.
But in recent years, Polish cooks, both amateur and professional, have returned to their roots, launching a revival of Polish cooking on a national scale. The most fashionable Warsaw and Krakow restaurants no longer serve foreign food with fancy names. And they serve szmalec, an old-fashioned peasant spread made of pork fat, instead of butter. They offer black bread to spread it on, instead of baguettes. They make robust pork and duck dishes instead of grilled tuna and wasabi (although, we hasten to add, grilled tuna and wasabi are available in Warsaw as well).
Creative chefs have also begun to experiment with, and promote, the use of Polish ingredients. The entrepreneurial Gessler family began opening restaurants specializing in new versions of traditional dishes, from herring tartare to pierogi as exotic as the dim sum of Hong Kong. The Slow Food movement has also taken off in Poland, and has spread to restaurants such as Bulaj in the resort town of Sopot, which specializes in local fish and local game, served with locally grown organic vegetables. Slow Food entrepreneurs have also begun to raise the quality of many traditional foods, from sheep's milk cheese, a traditional product of Poland's mountainous South, to mead (fermented honey), which now comes in dozens of variations.
The cuisine has been modernized, and is less fatty and less salty than it used to be. Previously scarce vegetables now play a leading role. But the new cuisine is recognizably Polish, not pseudo-French or mock Italian, and is much the better for it. Outside the major cities, provincial restaurants -- karczmy -- now serve soup and pickles instead of hamburgers.
It is this revolution we have tried to capture in our cookbook -- one which we hope to bring to America, to those who love and remember Polish food -- and to those who are nostalgic for Jewish food as well: In North America, Jewish cooking remains a kind of fossilized Polish cuisine, as so many Jews here trace their roots back to Poland and Eastern Europe. It too suffers from a reputation for heaviness: bloated pierogies, boiled cabbage, vinegary, preserved fish, potatoes, potatoes, potatoes. What a joy, thus, to re-discover the subtleties and interesting flavors of Polish-Jewish cuisine unhampered by poverty or politics.
The concept for the book evolved a few summers ago on the back porch of Anne's Polish manor house, Dwor Chobielin. She and her husband, Radek Sikorski (now Poland's Foreign Minister) had rescued this house from ruin, and painstakingly, over many years, restored it to its original beauty. Radek's family wanted to bring back something that had been lost during the years of war and communist occupation. In a different way, we hope our cookbook can do the same.
For a preview of recipes and more photos, go to the cookbook's website here. Follow the book on Twitter: @polishsoulfood
]]>Surviving Sandy in Styletag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.20401402012-10-29T15:33:29-04:002012-12-29T05:12:02-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
We've endured numerous power shortages, ice storms, 9/11, Snowpocalypse I and II in the 16 years we've lived in Washington -- even a full-on hurricane (Isabel, 2003) that killed power for a week, and brought the neighbour's tree down conveniently in our backyard pool. The day after Isabel, we'd been scheduled to host a cocktail party for friends who were returning to Washington after a few years abroad. I wasn't sure what to do: canceling was the obvious choice -- but what would that amount to, aside from our family sitting grimly in the dark alone complaining about the outages? I figured everybody else was in the same situation, so what the heck: we'd bought the booze already. We went ahead with the party. It was mid-September, the storm had passed, and we could hold the party outside beside the lagoony wreck of the pool (which weirdly looked quite magical, with massive branches cascading over the water -- add a few floating candles and bingo, instant atmosphere). The caterers -- who still had power -- gamely ensured the show would go on and brought along copious supplies of ice along with the passed food (the BBQ still worked). We offered a signature cocktail -- a Hurricane, of course. We had a massive turnout of relief seekers -- and it remains one of the best parties in memory. In short, when life serves you a hurricane, serve Hurricanes:
My husband and I in front of the downed tree, ready for guests!
I understand that simply in having written the above paragraph, the last laugh is now going to be on me. Perhaps Sandy WILL be worse than Isabel, Snowpocalypse and the actual Apocalypse combined, in which case I invite you all to jeer me when our house has fallen down and our entire family, clutching sticks of furniture, is swept away in the ensuing street tsunamis towards certain watery death in the Potomac. That still doesn't mean I'm going to fill up pots of water. Or place flashlights around the house (there's an app for that). Or even, as some Facebook friends are suggesting, fill our bathtubs with water in case the toilets don't flush (I'm not sure how that works exactly? How does a full bathtub ensure a working toilet? Or are you supposed to use the bathtub for ...? Gross. NOT going there.)
But short of the house falling down (or something falling on the house) I think there are ways to survive these disasters in a more civilized fashion -- without panicking, and dare I say, with style? Thus, as a Hurricane Survivor, I offer you the following tips on how to turn an epic disaster into a party.
First off, I'm assuming you've taken whatever precautions are necessary given your proximity to the storm. The house or apartment is sealed up, you've got the water and extra batteries and okay, fine, you've filled up your bathtub. Stop worrying about that tree next door. If it's going to fall, it's going to fall and there ain't nothing you can do about it. You may as well go down having fun.
Second, I've assumed you've also laid in plenty of booze. Remember, red wine and spirits such as Scotch don't require chilling and can be drunk straight up; no need for ice. Good long-term strategy should the power be out for more than a day or two. You can also pour ice cubes (while you have them) in that full bathtub and use it to chill white wine, beer, vodka, gin, and mixers. That'll work for 24 hours.
I hope you didn't just buy safety candles, but also votive candles. Like, a ton of them. This way when the power shuts down you not only have light, but a romantic atmosphere in which to enjoy your aforementioned booze. If you're lucky enough to have a fireplace, make sure you've moved in firewood. Now you have heat AND a super romantic atmosphere in which to enjoy your glass of wine.
You're probably wondering about food, right? Bar snacks -- chips, pretzels, nuts -- last for ages, but you don't want to have to sustain yourself on these for long, unless you're a frat boy. If you have a BBQ you've already pulled it as close to the house as is safely possible, right? As the first option is grilling up all those frozen burgers that are now defrosting in your powerless freezer.
HOWEVER, if you have a gas stove then, my friend, you know you can survive for months. I'm assuming you've also taken the precaution of pre-charging all your 3 and 4G devices, so you can access online recipes (Epicurious is my favorite site; foodnetwork.com is excellent as well). Pasta is a no-brainer of course, but you can do way better than that. Google anything that is pan-roasted. Or stewed. Or seared. Remember there is all that meat to get rid of, and cooked food will last longer than raw. A soup or stew is especially good, as you can just keep reheating it every day to keep it from spoiling (don't haul me to the FDA for this advice; it's been done for centuries by peasants everywhere). Indeed just keep adding to it: vegetables, dried beans, lentils, rice.
If you only have an electric stove then you will have to fall back on the neighbourly rules during states of emergencies: which is, whoever has power and/or a gas stove is the de facto hurricane party host. Pack up your booze, thawing meat, and children if you have them, and get over to their house.
Or come over to mine. We'll have the fire going, candles lit, wine poured, steaming bowls of beef stew, and Netflix on the iPad.]]>HuffPost Canada Rocks COPA Awards!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.20053122012-10-23T12:12:20-04:002012-12-23T05:12:01-05:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/Canadian Online Publishing Awards. As the venue suggests, it wasn't your usual awards event: no sit-down tables and earnest acceptance speeches. Indeed the winners could barely be heard shouting out their thanks to the boisterous, drinking crowd, while awards host Amber Mac grew hoarse trying to announce the finalists in various categories. Certainly it captured the edgy, youthful spirit that defines online publishing today.
That spirit of course imbues our own upstart site here at HuffPost Canada, which was nominated for no fewer than eight awards including best news coverage for politics, the NDP leadership convention, our Mind The Gap series, and blogs by NDP MP Charlie Angus, our Media Bites columnist J.J. McCullough, and contributor Douglas Anthony Cooper.
So you can imagine how proud I was, as the former Managing Editor of Blogs here, to see our talented writers walk away with both the Gold and Silver awards for Best Blog in the daily and weekly newspapers, and broadcasters category.
Angus won the Gold for his newsbreaking blogs on the crisis of Attawapiskat (something none of us could pronounce a year ago); and McCullough took Silver for his smart, funny twice-weekly media commentary. Cooper's expose on the animal rights PETA, which did not win, remains one of the blog series I am most proud to have published during my time as editor: You can read the first part of the series here (links to subsequent parts are there).
Congratulations to all our nominees, and a special thanks to our elite blog squadron Angelina Chapin and Devon Murphy. Contributors who have had the pleasure of working with them, like me, know them to be among the most gracious, responsive and capable editors working in the country.
]]>The Week That Was: Prince Harry NUDE PIX!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.18301642012-08-25T13:15:30-04:002012-10-25T05:12:06-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/never post links to the red-headed royal frolicking around a Las Vegas hotel room in the buff, with an equally starkers "poker" (poke her? surely that's what the reports meant ...) companion. At most we would publish a serious think piece on the increasingly diminishing returns of the monarchy -- one which would thoughtfully weigh its relevance to our country, one which might indeed spark an important national debate on the topic.
Unfortunately, no such blog appeared in my inbox.
Instead, I had to contend with the fall-out from another royal screw-up, this one involving a certain Republican congressman from Missouri ("Mizzoruh"). Rep. Todd Akin's musings on the ability of "legitimate rape" victims to become pregnant immediately prompted a viral reaction from the international blogosphere, including among our own outraged contributors. Canadian HuffPoster Daniel Alexandre Portoraro weighed in here; U.S. vagina expert Eve Ensler weighed in here; and perhaps my favorite reaction was by UK HuffPoster Tom Doran here -- who offered readers a handy questionnaire as to whether they had been "legitimately raped" or not. Among the questions:
1. Am I Pregnant?
If YES, congratulations! You weren't raped. No less an authority than Representative Todd Akin of Missouri's 2nd congressional district says:
"First of all, from what I understand from doctors [pregnancy from rape] is really rare [...] If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."
Not willing to let such left-wing diversions as so-called "medical expertise" and "common decency" stand in his way, the good congressman is here to give all you ladies a refresher course in reproductive health. When a woman is legitimately raped (once the perpetrator has waited the required 6-8 weeks for his Rape License to come through), a microscopic set of steel hangar doors immediately seal her fallopian tubes shut, rendering fertilization impossible. Rep. Akin is currently running for Senate, so GET DONATING! It occurs to me that I neglected to mention his party identification, but that's probably unnecessary.
If NO, proceed to the next question...
And so on.
Also causing a racket on the blog rail was, of course, the imminent Quebec election. Again I had hoped for some serious, high-minded think pieces here, but this seems impossible given the candidates who are running. From Anglo Canada, it's like watching a Cirque de Soleil clown show, with all the buffoonish antics but absent any comedy. Especially not funny was Mark Milke's calculations upon how much all those extravagant election promises might end up costing the rest of Canada.
As a general rule, one can find at election time a candidate or two who inspires at least some slight degree of votability, who seem to be on a basic level inspiring or, ideally, just plain normal. Not so this time around in Quebec, where the three major candidates -- Jean Charest, Pauline Marois and Francois Legault -- are a uniquely unlikeable trio. Each one, should he or she win, will in their own unique way set about moving the province backward, possibly on the road to ruin. I do not pity the decision Quebecers will be forced to make September 4 because there is, quite literally, no one to vote for.
Peter Worthington, meanwhile, took the endlessly face-grab-causing Marois to task on her open hostility towards English, in "Was it Something We Said, Pauline?" while Bernie Farber took issue with Marois open hostility towards everything and everyone who is slightly different from herself.
Give the woman this -- actually, there is nothing to give her. Except maybe one of those "too Asian" $100 bills the Bank of Canada sent back to the drawing board. That's more enough for a bus ticket out of town.
PRINCE HARRY NUDE PIX!!!!!!!
Got your attention back?
Seriously now -- and we DID have some serious stuff over here -- one of the most remarkable series of blogs we've run lately was by Former Liberal party candidate Daniel D. Veniez on the deluded attitudes Canadians hold towards their health care system -- despite its glaring and often shocking failures. The series was prompted by Dr. Brian Day's battle with the B.C. Medical Commission, which has told Day he can no longer charge patients at his private health clinic, the Cambie Surgery Centre. I urge you to read all three parts of Veniez's series: One, Two and Three.
Readers on all three English-speaking HuffPost sites will now be able to get exclusive inside commentary from Syria, by our boots-on-the-ground blogger Andrew Sheehan (who will be writing under a pseudonym for safety as long as he is based in Damascus). You can read his first post for us here.
And sorry kids, we continued our back-to-back back-to-school coverage over in Living, highlighting some more FUN THINGS you can look forward to, aside from the stench of banana in your lunch box. We helpfully offered a list of some of the strange things that schools have banned (more strangely, bananas in lunch boxes was not on it). Among the items? Yoga pants (Ottawa); hugging (Brampton) and, wait for it, best friends (UK). We also offered a recipe as to how to make your own hand sanitizer. I should stress that this was not a suggestion for a substitute for a banana in your lunch. Although I'm sure it would smell a heckuva lot better.
PRINCE HARRY NUDE PIX!!!!
Or did I already say that?]]>The Week That Was: Go West, Young Websitetag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.18058812012-08-19T06:54:10-04:002012-10-19T05:12:03-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/great news -- for readers who are rapidly running out of sources of local news and opinion. It's also another indicator of HuffPost's rising and growing importance in the Canadian media. HuffPost Canada was the first international brand birthed by its U.S. mother company, AOL -- its quick success encouraged launches of sites in the UK, France, and most recently, Spain.
HuffPost Canada now receives some 3.4 million unique visitors per month -- that's a 117% growth in traffic since we launched in May. In February, we also launched HuffPost Quebec, which is growing more rapidly even than the Anglo site -- up 156%, with close to 300,000 uniques per month.
Among all these numbers, we discovered that a good third of our readers live in Western Canada -- and we were receiving more of these visitors to our site than any of our national newspaper competitors (e.g. National Post and the Globe). So: Ping!
So as of this week, those readers will now receive their own, bespoke editions, tailored to their interests and issues -- with all the fun and spiciness of the national edition mixed in. A big welcome to Western editors Pablo Fernandez (in Alberta -- don't mess with this guy, he's a reservist with the Royal Canadian Armoured Corps!), and Andree Lau in British Columbia -- and all their new hardworking troops. You can read Arianna's announcement of the Alberta launch here and B.C. here. I'd also like to give a shout-out to all my new friends and contributors I met out West this week, at our launch events in Calgary and Vancouver. You can see photos of the events here. Was I serious about you blogging for us? Yes I was. Email me at Danielle.Crittenden@huffingtonpost.com.
This past week also saw the finale of the 2012 Summer Olympics -- our Style section offered an original wrap up. Meanwhile, there was international condemnation of the sentencing of the girls' band Pussy Riot in Russia, including right here on our own blog rail by NDP MPs Charlie Angus and Andrew Cash. I'd not realized that Charlie and Tom are both former punk rockers, and in the 1980s were in a band called L'etranger (named after, I'm assuming, that famous rocker, Albert Camus). Shove off Justin Trudeau and Patrick Brazeau -- Charlie and Andrew are the way coolest MPs on the Hill.
And it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas -- which is a parent's way of saying it's Back to School time. Our Lifestyle section is rolling out helpful articles on the topic, such as tips for the new kids. I need advice on how to a contrive a sympathetic and sorrowful look on my face when my kids and I bump into the stacks of school supplies at the mall. My impulse is to shout, "YES!" So far, the only consolation I've been able to offer my rising fifth grader is, "Look, it's only seven more years until you graduate, then only four more years of college after that ... which amounts to, I guess, 11 more years of school, or the length of your entire lifetime to date, plus one year."
I didn't mention the subsequent years of school debt. Why give her another reason to hate math?]]>The Week That Was: At Least We Got Somethingtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.17689542012-08-12T00:37:32-04:002012-10-11T05:12:07-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/my column about the Olympic Games (of course you do, it was a literary jewel), and how I don't watch them. It was kind of a big admission. Like standing in a stadium full of Leafs fans and saying, "Hockey? It's not really me." (Presuming there are enough Leafs fans to fill a stadium.)
Well, you can kinda understand why. As of this writing, Canada is 12th, with one gold, five silver and 12 bronze medals. Let us all bow our heads and listen up to what Jerry Seinfeld says:
The Olympics is really my favorite sporting event. Although, I think I have a problem with that silver medal. Because when you think about it, you win the gold -- you feel good, you win the bronze -- you think, "Well, at least I got something". But when you win that silver it's like, "Congratulations, you almost won. Of all the losers you came in first of that group. You're the number one loser. No one lost ahead of you!
So at least we have something. A lot of something. And sure, there were a lot of outrages -- from yesterday's disqualification in men's relay due to a simple misstep, to my own personal outrage at the loss of our women's synchronized swimming team, not least because these amazing women have been blogging for us. In the latter case, your sport depends entirely upon the subjectivity of the judges -- it can't be measured by a winning millisecond. And it seems our team did something too creative, too "outside the box" and not enough wooing of the judges. The same issue that has plagued figure skating in the past. But ladies, we were proud of you. Keep going for the dream, even when your dream is punished by unimaginative numbskulls.
Maybe the problem with the Olympics comes down to, as contributor Yoni Goldstein suggests, the sports. Bottom line here:
One characteristic of the Olympics to explain why we don't care about the Olympics when the Olympics aren't staring us right in the face: the games themselves, and here, I think, is where the problem lies. It's that the sports competed in at the Olympics don't keep our attention. In other words, they are not interesting to us when not framed by the Olympics.
For one thing, the sports featured in London are laughably simplistic. Compare a typical Olympic amateur sport -- let's say, shot put -- to a typical professional team sport, hockey. The former is ludicrously one-dimensional: You throw a heavy ball as far as possible, and hope no one throws the ball any farther. That's. Basically. It. Now consider hockey: for starters, competitors are actually playing two games simultaneously -- trying to score a goal and trying to keep the opponent from scoring, and there are any number of ways to be successful, and to fail, in each of those endeavors. I don't want to belittle the technique and training necessary to become a successful shot-putter (have you seen those guys?), but at the end of the day, like running, swimming, javelin, pole vaulting, cycling and virtually every other Olympic event, it's just one very specific skill-set.
Or maybe it's the ridiculous commercials? Blogger Patricia Pearson asked a fair question: What is up with all those taxpayer-paid-for ads about the War of 1812?
One minute, I'll be watching some riveting event of sportsmanship at the Olympics, and then suddenly CTV cuts to commercial, and I'm treated to an array of cartoonishly noble characters attired in soldierly red coat and womanly bonnet, circa Regency England, with platoons aiming bayonets at the American frenemy, and I'm like: WTF, federal government? Nobody cares about the War of 1812. It happened two centuries ago, before Tim Hortons and hockey. It doesn't matter.
Maybe the federal government has figured out that you snoozed through History I, II, and III -- all in which Canada's "triumph" in the War of 1812 featured prominently -- so is playing "gotcha" while you are in your boxers and eating Doritos, wondering how the 4x100-metre relay is going to play out. Some currently unemployed attack-ad genius is trying to shove Canadian history into your subconscious, and knows that subliminal nude Laura Secords won't pass the broadcasting regulations. Next up: Commercials triumphing the passage of the Wheat Board Act.
Fortunately for those who love the games more than I do, you could follow HuffPost's fabulous coverage -- whether it was our Dawn Cuthbertson's coverage of 1500m runner Hilary Stellingwerff's journey to the Olympics, or Ron Nurwisah's liveblogging of the epic women's soccer match, or Managing Editor Kenny Yum's take on Olympic marathoners.
So let's now move on -- and pray that this afternoon's closing ceremonies won't be a reprise of the opening's quick history of England, as if staged by Andrew Lloyd Webber, replete with dancing chimney sweeps and NHS nurses...
HuffPost Canada launched its Music section, and landed some big names including Dan Mangan. And Blog Town welcomed superstar Raffi to its rail, who wrote movingly about the death of the whale that inspired his children's hit "Baby Beluga" (stuck in mothers' heads around the world!).
This coming week will see the launches of HuffPost regional editions in Alberta and B.C. So exciting! I'll be travelling out there, and will give you a full report next Sunday. I'm having my Stetson sized as I write.
Don't say you're not excited. Now get back to your Doritos.]]>The Week That Was: Happy Generic Holiday Weekendtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.17425702012-08-05T00:35:19-04:002012-10-04T05:12:10-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
The sadly, but safely, named "Civic Holiday" is one being celebrated across the country (although according to Wikipedia -- hey, it's a long weekend here in Ontario and I'm feeling lazy -- those of you in Quebec (apologies: a Quebec), Newfoundland and Labrador, and the Yukon are not getting a holiday. Sorry, amend that -- only the government workers are getting an extra day off in those places, because we all know how hard they freakin' work, and how much they freakin' deserve it. The rest of you barristas, get back to your latte art.
Those principalities bold enough to assign a name to the holiday (thus risking potential alienation of some segments of the population) have gone all out in places. In British Columbia -- and again, I'm reverting to my friend Wiki here -- y'all are brave enough to call it "British Columbia Day." Ditto for "New Brunswick Day" -- guess where? -- and "Saskatchewan Day" -- no hints!-- although weirdly Nova Scotia gets all creative and calls it "Natal Day." Seriously? And what do you call the day before it -- "Pre-Natal Day"?
Leave it to Ontario -- from where I am writing -- to go all complicated. Obviously one generically named holiday is not good enough for us. So:
In Ontario, the day may be known as Simcoe Day in honour of the first Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada and the promulgator of the Act Against Slavery; the Scotiabank Caribbean Cultural Festival, formerly known as Caribana, is held this holiday weekend in Toronto, coinciding with Emancipation Day. Civic Holiday may also be known by one of a number of local appellations such as Mountie Day in North York, Colonel By Day in Ottawa, George Hamilton Day in Hamilton, Joseph Brant Day in Burlington, Founders' Day in Brantford, McLaughlin Day in Oshawa, Alexander Mackenzie Day in Sarnia, James Cockburn Day in Cobourg, Peter Robinson Day in Peterborough, and John Galt Day in Guelph, as well as numerous other names in smaller municipalities.[citation needed]
I am definitely waiting on that citation. But wait... the name that shouts out to me is "Scotiabank Caribbean Cultural Festival -- formerly known as Caribana."
First, as we all know, Caribana is not a pop star, and therefore can't go the "formerly known as" route. It is a crazy Caribbean festival, alternately loved and loathed by Toronto's inhabitants. There is dancing in the streets, goat-based street food, traffic jams, a general looking-the-other-way on public drug use, culminating (unfailingly) in some sort of shooting or stabbing incident. Then the next day the blogs and opinion pages will be filled with outraged columns saying either, 1) the shooting or stabbing incident is because of our lax immigration laws and politically correct non-enforcement of aforementioned drug use; or 2) it's racist to draw attention to the shooting or stabbing incident in an otherwise wonderful festival celebrating our multi-cultural society.
Whatever you think of it, it's hardly something you'd associate with a bank.
And yet isn't everything subject to corporate branding these days? It's gone beyond the weirdly named stadiums, like FedExField, that have no reference to the team or civic culture which they have just bought into. We have now reached even supposedly organic ethnic festivals brought to you by Scotiabank (although I'm sure the corporate spokesmen will hastily add disclaimers for any stabbing or shooting -- read the small print on your spliff...). However, unlike in years past, I'm sure you'll be able to buy many types of slickly produced souvenirs: Scotiabank rastafarian wigs; Scotiabank Jamaican patties; Scotiabank official Bob Marley bobbing head dolls; Scotiabank bong pipes; Scotiabank commemorative Che Guevara T-shirts (wait, wouldn't Che have been against Scotiabank?).
Maybe it's time for a large corporation to buy the rights to our lamely titled "Civic Holiday." Let's just put it out to the highest bidder, shall we? Tim Hortons Day. Labbatt's Blue Day. Surely those are themes all Canadians could rally around? Although if we are going to the truly highest bidder, I guess we'll wind up with:
Enbridge Pipeline National Celebration Day.
* * *
Digressing now to the theme of this column, which is the week brought to you by The Huffington Post Canada. And what a GREAT week that always is!
First, we finished up with the coverage of our editorial lunch with Conrad Black, a.k.a. Lord of Crossharbour, in which he coyly flirted with the possibility of getting back into the media game. That caused quite the media frenzy. However, having been in the room with the Lord when he played this card, it should be stressed that he made it clear that all was contingent on his becoming a citizen again. But you could see that Citizen Black was "not irreconcilable" to the idea, as he might put it -- but nor was he issuing a call for resumes. He also answered our readers' very interesting questions -- which you can read his replies to here.
Our star Ottawa bureau chief, Althia Raj, was ahead of the competition as always with her scoop about Adam Carroll, the Liberal staffer who was asked to resign for creating a Twitter account that spilled details of Public Safety Minister Vic Toews divorce (vikileaks), being hired back by the party's head office.
Meanwhile, the newsroom was thrown into overtime with not one but two new vertical launches ("sections," if you will, for you dead tree types): HuffPost Canada Impact and HuffPost Canada Music. Big piece on the latter, re: Canada's Kathleen Edwards on how she's much more than "Bon Iver's girlfriend."
(Old fogey alert: I had to Wikipedia those references. Hilarity in newsroom ensues.)
In Blog Town, where I'm from, we had a bunch of blogs of interest: you can read about a vegetarian's defence of the seal hunt by Justin Beach, here; apparently, the Attawapiskat reservation should be renamed Atta-whassup-wit-that, according to MP Carolyn Bennett, who commented critically upon the federal court ruling this week that said it was the Tories, and not the First Nations, who royally messed up wit that.
And of course I'm sure you will continue to follow all the ups and downs of the summer Olympics on our big news page here.
As for me, I'm about to pour my Hendrick's gin-and-tonic and celebrate this LCBO Day in Ontario.
**Correction made to blog per commenter "Newfoundlander." Thanks Newfoundlander -- as noted, I'm a gin drinker not a beer drinker. But if I were even more Canadian I assume I would drink rye?]]>The Week That Was: I Admit I'm Not Watching the Olympicstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.17145582012-07-29T00:00:34-04:002012-09-27T05:12:05-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/
"Who do we have to blame for this?" I asked one of the news editors.
"China."
Yes, well, there's much to blame on China -- but that's another editorial. For now I'll be the one Olympian curmudgeon (gold medallist in this category FYI, according to my children) to admit I'm not glued to my television following the ups and downs of our competing teams. That's not to say I don't appreciate the extraordinary training, talent, and dedication that our athletes bring to the Olympics. I love that the games "bring us all together" as a nation -- in a way not seen since there were only three television channels and one nightly news broadcast. I'm a sucker for all the heroic stories of the people-who-didn't-expect-to-make-it-and-yet-overcame-huge-personal-hurdles-to-do-so. But to my children's -- and admittedly, my parents' -- consternation, I don't watch them. Politics is my team sport, especially during a U.S. presidential election. And so I was especially gripped by Mitt Romney's bad showing in the early trials of the foreign relations championships -- causing so great an athlete as Carl Lewis to suggest that there are some Americans "who shouldn't leave the country." Ouch. And David Frum explains here why Canadians should not be offended that Mittens did not include Canada on his whirlwind world tour.
So it's a good thing my HuffPost colleagues don't feel the same way that I do, and are going for the gold in Olympic coverage. The aforementioned news team will keep our readers satisfied in up-to-the-minute coverage and commentary -- and over in blogs, we have multiple former Olympians and other top commentators who have joined our "HuffPost Team Canada" to bring you the most interesting insights into the actions taking place before you on your screen.
For those of you not currently glued to those screens, I'd love to bring your attention to other happenings in HuffPost Town. First, we've had a couple of truly stellar -- dare I say gold-level? -- features roll out.
First, our newsroom was honoured on Thursday by the presence of Lord Black of Crossharbour, a.k.a. Conrad Black, as guest of honour at our monthly editorial luncheon. Black, who returned to Canada on May 4 after serving nearly four years in prison, candidly answered questions on a range of topics, from his personal experiences in prison to his determination to fight to keep his Order of Canada, from his recent libel lawsuit against Random House to his future media plans (yes, he may have them!). Black appeared unruffled by any of the subjects raised by the HuffPost editorial team; throughout the luncheon he courteously and expansively discussed his recent travails, and at times became impassioned in his answers -- about the need for prison reform, about those who have sought to defame his reputation, and about the future of politics and political discourse in Western democracies. At the end of the luncheon, when asked what he thinks is the public's greatest misperception of him, Black replied that it was the belief that he was "pompous." Further coverage of the luncheon will be posted this coming week. Lord Black literally had so much to say of interest that we have had to break it down into multiple features.
Also this week, a newsroom argument led to this hilarious "Change My Mind" blog, in which two young single men, HuffPost bloggers Daniel Portoraro and JD Halperin debated the statement, "The modern woman is too picky." Last check-in showed that Daniel was leading in his dissent, by 18 per cent -- but both make wise, true -- and hilarious -- cases for their mutual sides.
Third (or bronze, as it may be, in order here but not in level of bestness), we launched Adopt a HuffPet -- a feature that will bring attention to our neediest rescue pets who need homes, from across the country. This effort is spearheaded by the fabulous N. Michelle Nadon, who runs C4P Animal Rescue, and has kindly agreed to bring some of the neediest adoption cases to our readers. I'm truly proud to say that with her first blog, two cats were quickly adopted. If you adopt one of our HuffPets, please let us know -- and keep us posted as to their progress.
Also, we will be launching a new section on Tuesday -- HuffPost Impact Canada. Truly, there is nothing else like this in Canada. It will be a site devoted to those individuals and organizations who seek to make real change in this society; our core areas of focus will include homelessness and poverty, immigration and citizenship, and aboriginal communities. If you know of a worthy cause or individual you'd like to see highlighted in this section, please email me: danielle.crittenden@huffingtonpost.com.
Now I must return to following the election [cough] Olympics.]]>The Week That Was: Making Sense of The Senselesstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.16916482012-07-21T09:19:42-04:002012-09-20T05:12:04-04:00Danielle Crittendenhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/danielle-crittenden/won't happen to me.
And those thoughts may feel even more urgent to Canadians as our week began and ended with horrific shootings -- on Monday, two people were killed and 24 injured at a Toronto block party. A 19-year-old man, Nahom Tsegazab, has been charged.
Perhaps that's why Jessica Ghawi has emerged as one of the most compelling, indeed haunting, victims in the Colorado tragedy. I have not been able to stop thinking about her. It's not just the freakish fact that she narrowly dodged being killed at another mass shooting, at Toronto's Eaton Center, last month. I think it's more due to the fact that social media has allowed us to feel suddenly very intimate with this otherwise total stranger, so intimate that our minds can't easily brush away the idea, That couldn't have been me. Or, as HuffPost blogger Lisa Belkin put it, "Any of our children could have been at the movies last night."
Jessica's last tweets to friends about her excitement about being at the screening, including the very last, "MOVIE DOESN'T START FOR 20 MINUTES" are heartbreakingly sweet and ordinary -- youthful, exuberant, sassy, a young woman's cadence familiar to any parent. Jessica's tweets from the scene at the Eaton Center on June 2 -- she had just left the food court moments before the shooting took place -- were even more spooky. As she chronicled the ambulances and stretchers arriving, she wrote, "A man dressed as Batman is charging tourists to take pictures outside the Eaton Center yelling "MY PARENTS ARE DEAD!" Very tacky & heartless."
Now a man dressed as a Batman villain commits a movie theatre massacre. What are we to make of that?
To this I'd say: nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. In the end, none of us can "game" our fates. And this is why, ultimately, no sense can be found in senselessness.
The massacre would be no less comprehensible if, like Timothy McVeigh or Anders Behring Breivik, James Holmes asserted some twisted political reasoning for his actions. In a way, the very absurdity of Holmes' fantasy underscores the mad, murderous impulses that have existed in mankind throughout time -- ones that today find their outlets in the Holmes, McVeighs and Breiviks of the world, but also among tribal leaders in Africa and hired assassins in Syria. We can be rightly outraged that we live in a world that permitted Holmes to purchase thousands of rounds of ammunition over the Internet -- but would the massacre have been any less horrifying if Holmes had sprayed the audience with an old-fashioned shotgun?
Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say: Hey, massacres happen. What I am saying is that there is not much any of us can do to explain or avoid random violence -- just as we can't explain why some survive car crashes and others don't, or why some arrived late to work on September 11 and thus lived, and those who were punctual didn't. What we can do is heed simply what Jessica herself wrote on her blog after the Eaton Centre shooting:
I was shown how fragile life was on Saturday. I saw the terror on bystanders' faces. I saw the victims of a senseless crime. I saw lives change. I was reminded that we don't know when or where our time on Earth will end. When or where we will breathe our last breath. For one man, it was in the middle of a busy food court on a Saturday evening.
I say all the time that every moment we have to live our life is a blessing. So often I have found myself taking it for granted. Every hug from a family member. Every laugh we share with friends. Even the times of solitude are all blessings. Every second of every day is a gift. After Saturday evening, I know I truly understand how blessed I am for each second I am given.
And we can heed the words, too, of Jessica's brother, Jordan, who took to Twitter himself to urge the public to "remember the names of the victims and not the name of the coward who committed this act."
I agree with Jordan. I think it is unfortunate that the killer survived -- and that his story will play out endlessly in the coming months. This seems exactly the attention such a sick individual will crave -- and indeed, part of the attraction of committing the crime in the first place. Better that the monster were dispatched quickly to his destined circle of Hell.
For now we can only honour the victims by, as Jordan say, remembering them. Every single one of them. And embracing every single second of life we are given.
If that makes sense.
If you'd like to help the Aurora victims and their families, HuffPost Impact has started a fund via Crowdrise, which has already raised $6,000 since launched last night. The page also has options for giving blood, supporting nonprofit crisis centers, etc. Go here for more info.]]>
