With Pine River Elementary School slated to be closed after this school year, parents are weighing options for their children's future education.
Parents who especially value the small-school atmosphere at Pine River outside of Merrill are considering a variety of alternatives, including home schooling, sending their children to another district or enrolling them in parochial schools.
A split Merrill School Board voted Jan. 5 to close Pine River and use the building to house its Head Start and other early childhood programs. Pine River currently serves 134 students.
District leaders expect most current Pine River students will attend Washington Elementary next school year. The move also would mean a shift of elementary school boundaries that would affect students in other schools, as well.
"We have a lot of options. A lot of people are considering home schooling. We're being heavily recruited by the parochial schools in the area," said Jan Rydeski, 46, the mother of three children now attending Pine River.
Rydeski said she and her husband, John, are thinking about going through the open-enrollment process and trying to send their children to Hewitt-Texas Elementary in the Wausau School District.
"We live way out in the country and close to Hewitt-Texas," she said.
Kathy Yahr, principal of Trinity Lutheran School in Merrill, said she had a message on her Facebook account from a Pine River parent asking more about Trinity the night the Merrill School Board decided to close the school.
"That was before we did anything," Yahr said. Now, Trinity educators are sending letters to Pine River parents to invite them to a community night to be held from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m. Thursday.
"We are hoping because we're small, that will draw people to us," Yahr said. "Small schools can really eliminate some of the problems big schools face, such as bullying."
Jennifer Freyer, 36, is the mother of a Pine River second-grader and three younger children she had hoped to send there. She and her husband are part of a group of about 20 parents, including Rydeski, who are working hard to keep Pine River open.
"I guess my biggest frustration is that closing a school is a one-time savings," Freyer said. She argues that renovating the school for new early childhood programs would be expensive, too. "It doesn't make fiscal sense to me," she said.
2012年2月6日星期一
2012年1月19日星期四
South Whitehall OKs residential chicken-raising in limited areas
There were no ruffled feathers at the South Whitehall Township commissioners meeting Wednesday as the board approved a measure allowing residents in certain areas to raise chickens.
The board met and unanimously approved an amendment to the zoning ordinance to allow property owners to house up to four hens as pets. No one in the audience objected.
Commissioners considered the request after 8-year-old township resident Carisa Fogt and her grandfather appeared before the board in September to ask commissioners to revise the ordinance to allow her keep a couple of hens. The prior zoning ordinance required 5 acres for even one chicken, making the Fogts' half-acre lot on Scherer Road ineligible.
The ordinance allows hens, but not roosters, as they make noisy calls and can be disruptive.
The hens would be permitted only on properties containing single-family detached homes in the rrural holding or rural esidential and agricultural zoning districts.
When outdoors, the chickens would be required to be contained in a coop, penned area or run. The pen is not permitted in the front yard and must be positioned at least 10 feet from rear and side yard property lines, as well as 100 feet from a dwelling on another property.
The township planning commission pecked away at the ordinance and recommended the amendment be adopted.
Chickens have become popular in suburban and even urban areas in recent years among owners who delight in caring for the animals, obtaining their own organic eggs or raising them as a family project, sometimes through organizations such as 4-H.
Commissioner Thomas Johns asked if the ordinance would apply to homing pigeons, because some residents keep them as a hobby. Assistant Community Development Director Gerald Harbison said that would be up to the zoning officer's interpretation.
"The ordinance is set up to keep adding, if that would be the case," Harbison said.
The ordinance will take effect in five days.
In other matters, commissioners voted to donate a used police vehicle to the Lehigh County Municipal Emergency Response Team. District Attorney Jim Martin submitted a letter to the board offering to buy the 2003 Ford CV sedan for $500.
Commissioner Dale Daubert asked if the township is truly in need of $500 or if the car could be donated. The township would typically send a used police car to auction, where it could garner $750, Township Manager Jon Hammer said.
"If the district attorney feels this will help him with his duties to the county as well as South Whitehall Township, I say we sign the title over to him at no charge," Daubert said.
The remaining commissioners agreed and voted unanimously to make the donation.
The board met and unanimously approved an amendment to the zoning ordinance to allow property owners to house up to four hens as pets. No one in the audience objected.
Commissioners considered the request after 8-year-old township resident Carisa Fogt and her grandfather appeared before the board in September to ask commissioners to revise the ordinance to allow her keep a couple of hens. The prior zoning ordinance required 5 acres for even one chicken, making the Fogts' half-acre lot on Scherer Road ineligible.
The ordinance allows hens, but not roosters, as they make noisy calls and can be disruptive.
The hens would be permitted only on properties containing single-family detached homes in the rrural holding or rural esidential and agricultural zoning districts.
When outdoors, the chickens would be required to be contained in a coop, penned area or run. The pen is not permitted in the front yard and must be positioned at least 10 feet from rear and side yard property lines, as well as 100 feet from a dwelling on another property.
The township planning commission pecked away at the ordinance and recommended the amendment be adopted.
Chickens have become popular in suburban and even urban areas in recent years among owners who delight in caring for the animals, obtaining their own organic eggs or raising them as a family project, sometimes through organizations such as 4-H.
Commissioner Thomas Johns asked if the ordinance would apply to homing pigeons, because some residents keep them as a hobby. Assistant Community Development Director Gerald Harbison said that would be up to the zoning officer's interpretation.
"The ordinance is set up to keep adding, if that would be the case," Harbison said.
The ordinance will take effect in five days.
In other matters, commissioners voted to donate a used police vehicle to the Lehigh County Municipal Emergency Response Team. District Attorney Jim Martin submitted a letter to the board offering to buy the 2003 Ford CV sedan for $500.
Commissioner Dale Daubert asked if the township is truly in need of $500 or if the car could be donated. The township would typically send a used police car to auction, where it could garner $750, Township Manager Jon Hammer said.
"If the district attorney feels this will help him with his duties to the county as well as South Whitehall Township, I say we sign the title over to him at no charge," Daubert said.
The remaining commissioners agreed and voted unanimously to make the donation.
2012年1月17日星期二
Ambler Seeks Wilton Funds To Restore Farmhouse
Leaders of the Friends of Ambler Farm are seeking $500,000 from the town to help restore the historic Raymond Ambler House that was occupied by the family for more than 160 years.
The nonprofit Ambler Farm's Board of Directors will request $250,000 from the town’s capital improvements fund for the fiscal year that begins July 1 and another $250,000 for the following year from money already earmarked for the project, said board president Neil Gluckin.
The group will officially make a request for the funding at Tuesday’s Board of Selectmen meeting at 7:30 p.m. in Town Hall.
“This is a very good time in the property’s history to move forward with this project, and we will urge the selectmen to understand that the community places a very high value on completing this project and return to Wilton a long-term investment that will far exceed the amount the town will invest in it,” Gluckin said.
The $500,000 would go “a very long way” in helping to complete the overall $1.9 million project, Gluckin said. The project is designed to renovate and open the house to the public for historic tours, educational programs and community events.
Originally believed to have been built in 1799, the white farmhouse was constructed in 1830 and was occupied by members of the Ambler family until Betty Ambler’s death in 1998.
The house, located at 257 Hurlbutt Street, had deteriorated significantly over the last few decades. But when the town obtained the 22-acre property in 1999, the Friends of Ambler Farm was established to operate it as a working farm and to renovate the farmhouse and other buildings to present ongoing educational programs and fun events relating to life on the farm.
“The house will become the cornerstone for representing farm life over the last two centuries and is key to accomplishing the mission set out by the deed of sale to the town – to make this entire property a living example of farm life in Wilton from 1800 to 2000,” Gluckin said.
About $600,000 in renovations have already been done to stabilize the house’s foundation, he said, but there’s a lot more work to do. Exploration of the farmhouse has led to discovery of several old shoes and pieces of clothing under the attic's floorboards. In addition, there are signatures from various carpenters who worked on the house.
“We want to move ahead now so that by 2014 we can put some of the house’s furnishings like chairs, tables and kitchen cabinets back in and to create a hearth kitchen to help depict what life was like in the house and on the farm during the 18th and 19th centuries,” said Gluckin.
Extensive renovations were completed in 2006 at the red Carriage Barn, which was built in 1880 and is used for education programs. A kitchen addition also serves a range of activities and programs. Community organizations can rent the Barn.
The nonprofit Ambler Farm's Board of Directors will request $250,000 from the town’s capital improvements fund for the fiscal year that begins July 1 and another $250,000 for the following year from money already earmarked for the project, said board president Neil Gluckin.
The group will officially make a request for the funding at Tuesday’s Board of Selectmen meeting at 7:30 p.m. in Town Hall.
“This is a very good time in the property’s history to move forward with this project, and we will urge the selectmen to understand that the community places a very high value on completing this project and return to Wilton a long-term investment that will far exceed the amount the town will invest in it,” Gluckin said.
The $500,000 would go “a very long way” in helping to complete the overall $1.9 million project, Gluckin said. The project is designed to renovate and open the house to the public for historic tours, educational programs and community events.
Originally believed to have been built in 1799, the white farmhouse was constructed in 1830 and was occupied by members of the Ambler family until Betty Ambler’s death in 1998.
The house, located at 257 Hurlbutt Street, had deteriorated significantly over the last few decades. But when the town obtained the 22-acre property in 1999, the Friends of Ambler Farm was established to operate it as a working farm and to renovate the farmhouse and other buildings to present ongoing educational programs and fun events relating to life on the farm.
“The house will become the cornerstone for representing farm life over the last two centuries and is key to accomplishing the mission set out by the deed of sale to the town – to make this entire property a living example of farm life in Wilton from 1800 to 2000,” Gluckin said.
About $600,000 in renovations have already been done to stabilize the house’s foundation, he said, but there’s a lot more work to do. Exploration of the farmhouse has led to discovery of several old shoes and pieces of clothing under the attic's floorboards. In addition, there are signatures from various carpenters who worked on the house.
“We want to move ahead now so that by 2014 we can put some of the house’s furnishings like chairs, tables and kitchen cabinets back in and to create a hearth kitchen to help depict what life was like in the house and on the farm during the 18th and 19th centuries,” said Gluckin.
Extensive renovations were completed in 2006 at the red Carriage Barn, which was built in 1880 and is used for education programs. A kitchen addition also serves a range of activities and programs. Community organizations can rent the Barn.
2012年1月10日星期二
Toronto is no place for chickens
I have a little fantasy to share with you. It involves feathers, clucking and yolks, much homespun flapping of aprons in the backyard, the warmth of a chicken held against your belly as it lays in your lap (can that be right? It sounds unsavory) and the happy clap clap of children as I serve them another dish made with orange yolks and milky whites from our own backyard chicken coop. “Thank you, Mama!” they cry.
Thank you, Toronto, for letting me indulge my lifelong dream of a henhouse to call my own. Except the city may not, and wisely so, since my chicken scheme is possibly quite stupid/very stupid indeed.
As early as February, the city, having halted prosecutions of the urban chicken movement, will study small no-roosters urban coops. My favourite city councillor, the sainted Mary-Margaret McMahon , is thrilled. “It’ll be people who are into urban agriculture and food security and growing vegetables in their yard.” She dismisses worries about smells and noise.
I do not. I have enough trouble with the smells and noise of humans without coping with their poultry.
Urban hen ownership is no joke. Consider predators, mass death, the astounding expense of building a coop with insulation, ventilation, an exercise yard and entrance for you and your fowl, the drooping and wilting that makes you send sewage samples to vets for advice, manky eggs, ammonia buildup, cecal droppings and disease (metabolic, infectious, parasitic and behavioural). I will mention only in passing the “blood-tinged nostril discharge” of avian flu.
I like chickens in paintings and photos. Art hens. I hate them in real life, “with their blank beady eyes and the silly way they keep shaking their scrawny little heads,” as the essayist Jean Kerr once wrote.
Eggs are best left to experts, the hot sexy Ontario farmers who populate the new 2012 Faces of Farming calendar, the month of May’s Darryl being my current favourite. Note: He raises hens not in Riverdale but in Hastings County, as God surely intended.
The poultry mania is part of what I call Portlandia Syndrome. Named after the coolest show on television, Portlandia resides on the Independent Film Channel, part of its coolness being the fact that you can’t see it. I bought it on DVD .
Portlandia is a satire of urban hipsters living in the Oregon city “where young people go to retire.” SNL’s Fred Armisen and rock-comedian Carrie Brownstein recreate the slacker ’90s in the new Seattle, where people grow beets in their driveway, entitled cyclists ride through stores (“I’m on a bike!”) and organic locavore diners interrogate the waitress about the provenance of their chicken.
Reassured that he was heritage-breed, woodland-raised and fed only sheep’s milk, soy and hazelnuts, they fret that the hazelnuts were trucked in. Eventually they leave the table to check, visiting “Colin’s” home farm and meeting his friends. After briefly joining a cult, they return and continue ordering.
I love Portlandia, a place so earnest and self-absorbed that it’s more of an ethic than a city. Any pillow or mug can be made cool if you “Put a bird on it!” You can build a business on the slogan “We can pickle that!” the trend born of brining, which can be usefully done to chickens (sorry, Colin) but not to lamps or mangled stilettos as they do in Portlandia.
Thank you, Toronto, for letting me indulge my lifelong dream of a henhouse to call my own. Except the city may not, and wisely so, since my chicken scheme is possibly quite stupid/very stupid indeed.
As early as February, the city, having halted prosecutions of the urban chicken movement, will study small no-roosters urban coops. My favourite city councillor, the sainted Mary-Margaret McMahon , is thrilled. “It’ll be people who are into urban agriculture and food security and growing vegetables in their yard.” She dismisses worries about smells and noise.
I do not. I have enough trouble with the smells and noise of humans without coping with their poultry.
Urban hen ownership is no joke. Consider predators, mass death, the astounding expense of building a coop with insulation, ventilation, an exercise yard and entrance for you and your fowl, the drooping and wilting that makes you send sewage samples to vets for advice, manky eggs, ammonia buildup, cecal droppings and disease (metabolic, infectious, parasitic and behavioural). I will mention only in passing the “blood-tinged nostril discharge” of avian flu.
I like chickens in paintings and photos. Art hens. I hate them in real life, “with their blank beady eyes and the silly way they keep shaking their scrawny little heads,” as the essayist Jean Kerr once wrote.
Eggs are best left to experts, the hot sexy Ontario farmers who populate the new 2012 Faces of Farming calendar, the month of May’s Darryl being my current favourite. Note: He raises hens not in Riverdale but in Hastings County, as God surely intended.
The poultry mania is part of what I call Portlandia Syndrome. Named after the coolest show on television, Portlandia resides on the Independent Film Channel, part of its coolness being the fact that you can’t see it. I bought it on DVD .
Portlandia is a satire of urban hipsters living in the Oregon city “where young people go to retire.” SNL’s Fred Armisen and rock-comedian Carrie Brownstein recreate the slacker ’90s in the new Seattle, where people grow beets in their driveway, entitled cyclists ride through stores (“I’m on a bike!”) and organic locavore diners interrogate the waitress about the provenance of their chicken.
Reassured that he was heritage-breed, woodland-raised and fed only sheep’s milk, soy and hazelnuts, they fret that the hazelnuts were trucked in. Eventually they leave the table to check, visiting “Colin’s” home farm and meeting his friends. After briefly joining a cult, they return and continue ordering.
I love Portlandia, a place so earnest and self-absorbed that it’s more of an ethic than a city. Any pillow or mug can be made cool if you “Put a bird on it!” You can build a business on the slogan “We can pickle that!” the trend born of brining, which can be usefully done to chickens (sorry, Colin) but not to lamps or mangled stilettos as they do in Portlandia.
2012年1月3日星期二
Blair Witch Star Went To Pot--Literally!
More Hollywood actresses have been driven to drugs than reality stars with a handbag line, but never in as positive and creative a way as Heather Donahue. Relax, I'm talking about medical marijuana. Let me explain:
Heather notably played the female lead, "Heather Donahue," in The Blair Witch Project, the 1999 low-budget phenomenon that purported to be a video done by three students who got lost in the woods as you got lost in abject hysteria.
In her new book, Growgirl, Heather talks about the amusing absurdity of having to play along with the PR campaign that made it seem like she and her co-stars were really students and, worse, that they'd truly croaked. "I was allowed to go to the premiere," she told me in a recent interview, "but other times, I was supposed to be dead. I never knew each day if I was supposed to be alive or dead! It was confusing—especially when my mom got that sympathy card," she added, laughing.
But some years later—after the interesting offers and fun locations dried up like the snot she once leaked on Blair Witch billboards—it was career death that seemed a tiny bit inevitable. While filming 2008's The Morgue, a low-budget romp about six strangers who get stranded in the macabre title location, the Pennsylvania-born actress had a revelatory moment. "I wanted a change," she told me, with utter clarity. "I wanted to put things into the world that I was proud of, and I wasn't really proud of things like The Morgue. I remember the exact moment when I decided to quit movies. It was my death-by-mock-fellatio scene, with rubber tubing draped across my face and apple juice dribbling down my cheek." How horrible! Can't wait to rent it!
At this point, any normal person would have surely turned to hard drugs, but Heather simply segued to legal marijuana as part of a group of growers called "the Community" in Nuggettown, California. It turned out to be a terrific career move.
"There was definitely a sense of doing it for the common good," she remembered. "I was part of the Community. And I had a really nice house with a hot tub and a pool." And a boyfriend, too? "I had one when I first moved in," she informed me, "but as soon as I had 27 chickens, a vegetable garden, a puppy, and even a tortoise for a while, things changed. I was a little bit stressed out. I was doing things I had no idea how to do, like building a chicken coop and figuring out how to operate a circular saw!"
Still, it was a welcome change from the rubber tubing—not to mention the snot close-ups—and she really enjoyed mothering "the girls" (i.e., the pot crops) as they grew. "They were so powerful," said Heather, twinkling. "They'd grow an inch or two a night sometimes. Those 'girls' were a force of nature. We pushed each other to the limit, the girls and I!"
As an extra bonus, the gals even provided an unasked-for contact high at certain key moments, letting loose their juices whenever they were under the knife. "You get a transdermal high when you're trimming," Heather admitted. "The smell is so intense during that. And you have the repetitive motion of the scissors nonstop. 'Click, click, click, click . . .' It's the only job you can do stoned on whatever you like!"
Not this little ex–movie star, though. Heather was never a big smoker or an addictive-type person—just a healthily obsessive multitasker who wrote a 1,000-page diary during her downtime and eventually trimmed it into Growgirl. (Click, click, click, click . . .)
The book is a dense and breezy read full of extraordinarily intimate details, most memorably a heated conversation Heather had in a car with her own genitals. ("I'm not really into it," her vajayjay allegedly squawked about an oncoming sex act, to which Heather replied, "What are you—my pussy or the Oracle of fucking Delphi?") And then came the most awkward moment of all. "I fell out of the car, just having had a conversation with my pussy," relates Heather, laughing, "and someone says, 'Are you the girl from Blair Witch?'" Happens to me all the time.
Could Growgirl become a movie, complete with that pricelessly humiliating car scene? "It would have to be animated," Heather suggested. "If I could get the Brothers Quay on this, it would be amazing. Too bad the voice of the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz is not available." I suggested Kristin Chenoweth, who played Glinda in Wicked, and Heather gushed: "Yes! She can do the voice of my vagina! Your lips to God's ear." "Your lips," I deadpanned as we both broke up as if terribly high.
Heather notably played the female lead, "Heather Donahue," in The Blair Witch Project, the 1999 low-budget phenomenon that purported to be a video done by three students who got lost in the woods as you got lost in abject hysteria.
In her new book, Growgirl, Heather talks about the amusing absurdity of having to play along with the PR campaign that made it seem like she and her co-stars were really students and, worse, that they'd truly croaked. "I was allowed to go to the premiere," she told me in a recent interview, "but other times, I was supposed to be dead. I never knew each day if I was supposed to be alive or dead! It was confusing—especially when my mom got that sympathy card," she added, laughing.
But some years later—after the interesting offers and fun locations dried up like the snot she once leaked on Blair Witch billboards—it was career death that seemed a tiny bit inevitable. While filming 2008's The Morgue, a low-budget romp about six strangers who get stranded in the macabre title location, the Pennsylvania-born actress had a revelatory moment. "I wanted a change," she told me, with utter clarity. "I wanted to put things into the world that I was proud of, and I wasn't really proud of things like The Morgue. I remember the exact moment when I decided to quit movies. It was my death-by-mock-fellatio scene, with rubber tubing draped across my face and apple juice dribbling down my cheek." How horrible! Can't wait to rent it!
At this point, any normal person would have surely turned to hard drugs, but Heather simply segued to legal marijuana as part of a group of growers called "the Community" in Nuggettown, California. It turned out to be a terrific career move.
"There was definitely a sense of doing it for the common good," she remembered. "I was part of the Community. And I had a really nice house with a hot tub and a pool." And a boyfriend, too? "I had one when I first moved in," she informed me, "but as soon as I had 27 chickens, a vegetable garden, a puppy, and even a tortoise for a while, things changed. I was a little bit stressed out. I was doing things I had no idea how to do, like building a chicken coop and figuring out how to operate a circular saw!"
Still, it was a welcome change from the rubber tubing—not to mention the snot close-ups—and she really enjoyed mothering "the girls" (i.e., the pot crops) as they grew. "They were so powerful," said Heather, twinkling. "They'd grow an inch or two a night sometimes. Those 'girls' were a force of nature. We pushed each other to the limit, the girls and I!"
As an extra bonus, the gals even provided an unasked-for contact high at certain key moments, letting loose their juices whenever they were under the knife. "You get a transdermal high when you're trimming," Heather admitted. "The smell is so intense during that. And you have the repetitive motion of the scissors nonstop. 'Click, click, click, click . . .' It's the only job you can do stoned on whatever you like!"
Not this little ex–movie star, though. Heather was never a big smoker or an addictive-type person—just a healthily obsessive multitasker who wrote a 1,000-page diary during her downtime and eventually trimmed it into Growgirl. (Click, click, click, click . . .)
The book is a dense and breezy read full of extraordinarily intimate details, most memorably a heated conversation Heather had in a car with her own genitals. ("I'm not really into it," her vajayjay allegedly squawked about an oncoming sex act, to which Heather replied, "What are you—my pussy or the Oracle of fucking Delphi?") And then came the most awkward moment of all. "I fell out of the car, just having had a conversation with my pussy," relates Heather, laughing, "and someone says, 'Are you the girl from Blair Witch?'" Happens to me all the time.
Could Growgirl become a movie, complete with that pricelessly humiliating car scene? "It would have to be animated," Heather suggested. "If I could get the Brothers Quay on this, it would be amazing. Too bad the voice of the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz is not available." I suggested Kristin Chenoweth, who played Glinda in Wicked, and Heather gushed: "Yes! She can do the voice of my vagina! Your lips to God's ear." "Your lips," I deadpanned as we both broke up as if terribly high.
2011年12月25日星期日
Our grandparents taught us what true forgiveness looks like
Much has been made of the Japanese government’s recent apology to Canadian prisoners of war. The apology was welcome and long overdue. Our government’s gracious acceptance was also a dignified gesture.
But while this meaningful exchange between two great nations is symbolically important, true forgiveness can only come from those who suffered, who bled, who lost all dignity during those dark days.
Without such forgiveness, we would never have been born.
On Christmas Day, 1941, our maternal grandfather, Ralph MacLean, was captured by Japanese forces during the fall of Hong Kong. He was an 18-year-old kid from the Magdalen Islands. He spent the rest of the war in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp. Released in 1945, he moved to Alberta the following year.
Like many vets of his generation, our grandfather spent much of his adult life saying very little about his experience during the war years.
He proudly put on his medals and marched with his fellow comrades in every Remembrance Day parade, but was largely silent around the details of his horrific journey as a prisoner of war.
Thankfully, later in life, Grandpa started to speak openly about what he saw, in an effort to share his experiences with family and younger generations and ensure they don’t forget the sacrifices made. It was not easy to hear. He lived through hell. He saw his buddies die. He ate little.
At 89 and living in Calgary, he is one of the remaining PoW vets. Many did not come close to the average life expectancy because of the treatment they endured while incarcerated. There, ruthlessness reigned.
In April, 1942, our grandfather, Hideo, and grandmother, Mitsue Sakamoto, both Canadian-born citizens, were stripped of their possessions and interned in southern Alberta.
Prior to the outbreak of hostilities, their lives were not all that different from ours today. They both grew up in Vancouver. Our grandmother went to high school during the day and Japanese class in the evening. Our great-grandfather was a successful fisherman and owned several vessels.
Hideo and Mitsue met in 1939 and married in January, 1942. They led happy, productive lives. They had running water, enjoyed family outings and were deeply rooted in their community. But the evacuation notice ended this life as they knew it.
Their government turned on them. Their friends outside the Japanese-Canadian community turned on them. They were outcasts in their own land. Families were torn apart and many were never reunited. As our grandparents boarded the train east to the cold Alberta prairie, they did not know what their fate held.
Here, too, ruthlessness reigned. They made their first home in a modified chicken coop. They worked day and night on a sugar-beet farm for subsistence wages. Their only crime was their ethnicity.
Two of their three children were born during the internment. They were allowed to leave at the end of the war, and by 1948, had saved enough money to move to Medicine Hat, Alta. At 91, Grandma Sakamoto is still alive and well.
Dignity was stolen, burdens shouldered and lives lost, on the battlefield and on the home front during the Second World War. Despite suffering such cruelties on both sides of the Pacific Ocean, our family instilled in us a deep sense of respect and understanding for ourselves and for others – not by preaching, but by living these values.
Our grandparents refused to pass on to their children resentment over the wrongs that had been committed against them. This is, above all, the legacy they bequeathed to their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
It is one of hope, of strength. This is what real forgiveness looks like.
In refusing to chain their children to the transgressions committed against them, they allowed our parents the freedom and privilege of an ordinary life. Our parents who, when they met in a high-school gymnasium in Medicine Hat, were not thinking about the fall of Hong Kong, or about evacuation orders and work camps.
They were simply two kids dancing to the Beatles and falling in love in 1967. They married in 1972.
That kind of forgiveness – the kind that makes life and love possible, even after the scars of war – is something no apology can guarantee, however sincere or hard-fought-for and won. This personal forgiveness is what allows the next generations to move on and live fulfilling and enriched lives. We are unspeakably grateful to our grandparents for this gift.
But while this meaningful exchange between two great nations is symbolically important, true forgiveness can only come from those who suffered, who bled, who lost all dignity during those dark days.
Without such forgiveness, we would never have been born.
On Christmas Day, 1941, our maternal grandfather, Ralph MacLean, was captured by Japanese forces during the fall of Hong Kong. He was an 18-year-old kid from the Magdalen Islands. He spent the rest of the war in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp. Released in 1945, he moved to Alberta the following year.
Like many vets of his generation, our grandfather spent much of his adult life saying very little about his experience during the war years.
He proudly put on his medals and marched with his fellow comrades in every Remembrance Day parade, but was largely silent around the details of his horrific journey as a prisoner of war.
Thankfully, later in life, Grandpa started to speak openly about what he saw, in an effort to share his experiences with family and younger generations and ensure they don’t forget the sacrifices made. It was not easy to hear. He lived through hell. He saw his buddies die. He ate little.
At 89 and living in Calgary, he is one of the remaining PoW vets. Many did not come close to the average life expectancy because of the treatment they endured while incarcerated. There, ruthlessness reigned.
In April, 1942, our grandfather, Hideo, and grandmother, Mitsue Sakamoto, both Canadian-born citizens, were stripped of their possessions and interned in southern Alberta.
Prior to the outbreak of hostilities, their lives were not all that different from ours today. They both grew up in Vancouver. Our grandmother went to high school during the day and Japanese class in the evening. Our great-grandfather was a successful fisherman and owned several vessels.
Hideo and Mitsue met in 1939 and married in January, 1942. They led happy, productive lives. They had running water, enjoyed family outings and were deeply rooted in their community. But the evacuation notice ended this life as they knew it.
Their government turned on them. Their friends outside the Japanese-Canadian community turned on them. They were outcasts in their own land. Families were torn apart and many were never reunited. As our grandparents boarded the train east to the cold Alberta prairie, they did not know what their fate held.
Here, too, ruthlessness reigned. They made their first home in a modified chicken coop. They worked day and night on a sugar-beet farm for subsistence wages. Their only crime was their ethnicity.
Two of their three children were born during the internment. They were allowed to leave at the end of the war, and by 1948, had saved enough money to move to Medicine Hat, Alta. At 91, Grandma Sakamoto is still alive and well.
Dignity was stolen, burdens shouldered and lives lost, on the battlefield and on the home front during the Second World War. Despite suffering such cruelties on both sides of the Pacific Ocean, our family instilled in us a deep sense of respect and understanding for ourselves and for others – not by preaching, but by living these values.
Our grandparents refused to pass on to their children resentment over the wrongs that had been committed against them. This is, above all, the legacy they bequeathed to their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
It is one of hope, of strength. This is what real forgiveness looks like.
In refusing to chain their children to the transgressions committed against them, they allowed our parents the freedom and privilege of an ordinary life. Our parents who, when they met in a high-school gymnasium in Medicine Hat, were not thinking about the fall of Hong Kong, or about evacuation orders and work camps.
They were simply two kids dancing to the Beatles and falling in love in 1967. They married in 1972.
That kind of forgiveness – the kind that makes life and love possible, even after the scars of war – is something no apology can guarantee, however sincere or hard-fought-for and won. This personal forgiveness is what allows the next generations to move on and live fulfilling and enriched lives. We are unspeakably grateful to our grandparents for this gift.
2011年10月17日星期一
Backyard chicken' draft ordinance makes
'Backyard chicken' draft ordinance makes for decidedly fowl debate in Harris Township
An idea hatched to allow chickens on residential lots has ruffled feathers as township officials, staff and residents continue discussion of a draft ordinance.
Chickens currently are allowed on lots 10 acres or larger.
The draft is based on a resident request and is similar to ordinances adopted by State College in 2008 and Patton Township in 2009.
Those municipalities allow on-site composting and set violation fines of $50 to $600. Residents may keep four hens per single-family home, though in Patton, residents may keep up to eight hens for lots 2 acres or larger in the agricultural and R1 districts.
While Patton allows slaughtering for personal use, the borough prohibits it. The Harris draft also allows it.
Patton Manager Doug Erickson said the township has issued two or three permits since adopting the ordinance and received no complaints. He recalled much discussion both for and against keeping the birds in residential areas.
Borough Manager Tom Fountaine recalled the issue as highly controversial when first considered. However, since adoption, he called it a “nonissue” and said the borough hasn’t had any problems he’s aware of. The borough has issued five permits.
Harris Township’s draft ordinance calls for a smaller number of hens per lot, with one per 3,000 square feet and a maximum of four per lot up to 1 acre. For larger lots, residents could keep up to 10 hens per property that is less than 10 acres.
“Our issue is, in the village district, we have lots that are 3,000 square feet,” said Manager Amy Farkas. “The lots are just really small.”
However, some residents and supervisors called for a higher chicken density during a sometimes heated discussion at the Oct. 10 Board of Supervisors meeting.
A township website discussion page has received about 60 comments, and supervisor Denny Hameister said he doesn’t think the township has ever received more communication on an issue.
Supervisor Nigel Wilson said Planning Commission members, who will discuss the draft ordinance again tonight at 7, should raise the maximum to six or eight chickens per acre.
“Four seems too restrictive,” he said. “I visited a cousin with a real small backyard and he had five chickens. The only reason you knew he had them was you saw them. I think people are being a little scared about this.”
Also at issue was the draft requirement for a chicken coop permit and the prohibition of a movable coop. The “chicken tractors” essentially are coops with wheels, allowing someone to move a coop around the yard for grazing and to allow the spread of manure.
“It’s the standard mode of backyard chicken keeping in many places,” said resident Susan Squier.
Planning Commission member Paul Weener said he keeps chickens and uses a movable coop.
“It works well,” he said. “It’s a very common thing with backyard chickens.”
Zoning Officer Todd Shea said the problem is that such a coop would require a new permit any time it was moved, part of the township’s zoning law for structures.
“I’m not convinced it’s a good thing,” he said, noting that he could inspect a coop, leave the property, then not know if it continued to be compliant.
Regarding the permitting and enforcement, Farkas said she sometimes receives calls about dogs at large, and calls State College police, who provide service to the township.
“I don’t know who would deal with chickens escaping,” she said. “Who am I going to call if I can’t call the township? Will (Shea) be picking up vagrant chickens, like dogs?”
While Farkas said many good people live in the township, her concern is with the small percentage who will ignore the rules.
Already, some residents have concerns with the at-large “village chickens,” a flock of wild birds Farkas said showed up in 2008 and haven’t left, often hanging out by Duffy’s Tavern and sometimes causing a nuisance, digging in gardens and stopping traffic.
“We told people to deal with them however you would deal with any other animal on your property,” she said.
Resident Ken Hull said he has relocated a couple to a friend’s farm.
Township staff discovered residential chickens have become a trend across the country. Some pointed to it as another aspect of environmental consciousness, raising the birds for eggs and using the manure for compost.
“It’s something everybody zoned out of their residential districts years ago, and now sustainability has become an issue where people want to have access to that,” Farkas said. “It’s a very hot topic right now.”
An idea hatched to allow chickens on residential lots has ruffled feathers as township officials, staff and residents continue discussion of a draft ordinance.
Chickens currently are allowed on lots 10 acres or larger.
The draft is based on a resident request and is similar to ordinances adopted by State College in 2008 and Patton Township in 2009.
Those municipalities allow on-site composting and set violation fines of $50 to $600. Residents may keep four hens per single-family home, though in Patton, residents may keep up to eight hens for lots 2 acres or larger in the agricultural and R1 districts.
While Patton allows slaughtering for personal use, the borough prohibits it. The Harris draft also allows it.
Patton Manager Doug Erickson said the township has issued two or three permits since adopting the ordinance and received no complaints. He recalled much discussion both for and against keeping the birds in residential areas.
Borough Manager Tom Fountaine recalled the issue as highly controversial when first considered. However, since adoption, he called it a “nonissue” and said the borough hasn’t had any problems he’s aware of. The borough has issued five permits.
Harris Township’s draft ordinance calls for a smaller number of hens per lot, with one per 3,000 square feet and a maximum of four per lot up to 1 acre. For larger lots, residents could keep up to 10 hens per property that is less than 10 acres.
“Our issue is, in the village district, we have lots that are 3,000 square feet,” said Manager Amy Farkas. “The lots are just really small.”
However, some residents and supervisors called for a higher chicken density during a sometimes heated discussion at the Oct. 10 Board of Supervisors meeting.
A township website discussion page has received about 60 comments, and supervisor Denny Hameister said he doesn’t think the township has ever received more communication on an issue.
Supervisor Nigel Wilson said Planning Commission members, who will discuss the draft ordinance again tonight at 7, should raise the maximum to six or eight chickens per acre.
“Four seems too restrictive,” he said. “I visited a cousin with a real small backyard and he had five chickens. The only reason you knew he had them was you saw them. I think people are being a little scared about this.”
Also at issue was the draft requirement for a chicken coop permit and the prohibition of a movable coop. The “chicken tractors” essentially are coops with wheels, allowing someone to move a coop around the yard for grazing and to allow the spread of manure.
“It’s the standard mode of backyard chicken keeping in many places,” said resident Susan Squier.
Planning Commission member Paul Weener said he keeps chickens and uses a movable coop.
“It works well,” he said. “It’s a very common thing with backyard chickens.”
Zoning Officer Todd Shea said the problem is that such a coop would require a new permit any time it was moved, part of the township’s zoning law for structures.
“I’m not convinced it’s a good thing,” he said, noting that he could inspect a coop, leave the property, then not know if it continued to be compliant.
Regarding the permitting and enforcement, Farkas said she sometimes receives calls about dogs at large, and calls State College police, who provide service to the township.
“I don’t know who would deal with chickens escaping,” she said. “Who am I going to call if I can’t call the township? Will (Shea) be picking up vagrant chickens, like dogs?”
While Farkas said many good people live in the township, her concern is with the small percentage who will ignore the rules.
Already, some residents have concerns with the at-large “village chickens,” a flock of wild birds Farkas said showed up in 2008 and haven’t left, often hanging out by Duffy’s Tavern and sometimes causing a nuisance, digging in gardens and stopping traffic.
“We told people to deal with them however you would deal with any other animal on your property,” she said.
Resident Ken Hull said he has relocated a couple to a friend’s farm.
Township staff discovered residential chickens have become a trend across the country. Some pointed to it as another aspect of environmental consciousness, raising the birds for eggs and using the manure for compost.
“It’s something everybody zoned out of their residential districts years ago, and now sustainability has become an issue where people want to have access to that,” Farkas said. “It’s a very hot topic right now.”
2011年9月27日星期二
She'd prefer poultry as pets
Carisa, though, isn't counting her chickens quite yet. And her grandfather, Stephen Fogt, who offered to build her a coop , isn't zipping over to the lumber yard any time soon.
The new zoning law must be drafted, reviewed by the Planning Commission and sent back to the board for final approval, said Fogt, who twice has addressed the township on behalf of his granddaughter.
"We want to do it the right way," said Fogt, of Bethlehem, who knows it could take months before they get the official green light. "Carisa has wanted chickens for a long time, and there weren't provisions to deal with a couple of hens."
Carisa's wish to house two small hens clashes with a decades-old ordinance aimed at preventing commercial chicken farms from sprouting up in residential neighborhoods. The Fogts live on half an acre in Orefield, and under the current zoning law, she would need at least 5 acres to meet the zoning requirements to have even one chicken.
"You could see this is not Winchester Heights," said Fogt, referring to a local upscale development, then motioning to the garages and sheds that surround his daughter Julie's rural lot.
After their initial request was denied by the zoning board, the Fogts returned to the township, asking commissioners to rewrite the ordinance, keeping residents like Carisa in mind.
"We listened to her story and thought it might be possible to change our ordinance to include hens as pets," Ellesworth said. "Everyone seems to want to find a way to accommodate them."
Townships and cities across the state are finding ways to make room for backyard poultry.
Philip Clauer, instructor for Penn State's 4-H Youth and Specialty Poultry program, said the trend of changing ordinances to allow raising of poultry in urban areas has been popular since 2007.
"Some people feel better producing their own food, and chickens are small, inexpensive and easy to raise," Clauer said. "I also see more people getting back to doing family projects with their extra time instead of traveling or more expensive activities with the family."
The issue was explored in a recent online forum, hosted by the Pennsylvania State Association of Township Supervisors. Some townships adjusted ordinances to allow for chickens, with laws varying to consider lot sizes and the nature of the community.
Brian Moyer, program assistant with Lehigh County's Penn State Cooperative Extension office, said the struggle is familiar and a growing number of residents are "adamant about having these ordinances changed."
Not all townships bend their rules, though.
Clauer, based in State College, Centre County, said about half of the townships in his area accepted proposed changes and the other half refused revisions.
And in recent years, he said, some chicken owners who helped spark the poultry trend have backed out.
"Interesting thing is many people that started raising urban chickens three to five years ago no longer have their chickens," he said. "It is a neat idea until people realize they need daily care and are different than pets."
Carisa has been fascinated with chickens since she was a toddler, and can rattle off the names of more than a dozen chickens at her grandmother's Bucks County house, including Cookie, Sparkle and Thelma, the boss of the bunch.
"I want to collect my own eggs and have my own chickens — just two little hens," Carisa said.
Carisa plans to keep them in acoop , which would be at least 100 feet from the nearest neighbor — a plan that got the preliminary nod of the township earlier this month.
The new zoning law must be drafted, reviewed by the Planning Commission and sent back to the board for final approval, said Fogt, who twice has addressed the township on behalf of his granddaughter.
"We want to do it the right way," said Fogt, of Bethlehem, who knows it could take months before they get the official green light. "Carisa has wanted chickens for a long time, and there weren't provisions to deal with a couple of hens."
Carisa's wish to house two small hens clashes with a decades-old ordinance aimed at preventing commercial chicken farms from sprouting up in residential neighborhoods. The Fogts live on half an acre in Orefield, and under the current zoning law, she would need at least 5 acres to meet the zoning requirements to have even one chicken.
"You could see this is not Winchester Heights," said Fogt, referring to a local upscale development, then motioning to the garages and sheds that surround his daughter Julie's rural lot.
After their initial request was denied by the zoning board, the Fogts returned to the township, asking commissioners to rewrite the ordinance, keeping residents like Carisa in mind.
"We listened to her story and thought it might be possible to change our ordinance to include hens as pets," Ellesworth said. "Everyone seems to want to find a way to accommodate them."
Townships and cities across the state are finding ways to make room for backyard poultry.
Philip Clauer, instructor for Penn State's 4-H Youth and Specialty Poultry program, said the trend of changing ordinances to allow raising of poultry in urban areas has been popular since 2007.
"Some people feel better producing their own food, and chickens are small, inexpensive and easy to raise," Clauer said. "I also see more people getting back to doing family projects with their extra time instead of traveling or more expensive activities with the family."
The issue was explored in a recent online forum, hosted by the Pennsylvania State Association of Township Supervisors. Some townships adjusted ordinances to allow for chickens, with laws varying to consider lot sizes and the nature of the community.
Brian Moyer, program assistant with Lehigh County's Penn State Cooperative Extension office, said the struggle is familiar and a growing number of residents are "adamant about having these ordinances changed."
Not all townships bend their rules, though.
Clauer, based in State College, Centre County, said about half of the townships in his area accepted proposed changes and the other half refused revisions.
And in recent years, he said, some chicken owners who helped spark the poultry trend have backed out.
"Interesting thing is many people that started raising urban chickens three to five years ago no longer have their chickens," he said. "It is a neat idea until people realize they need daily care and are different than pets."
Carisa has been fascinated with chickens since she was a toddler, and can rattle off the names of more than a dozen chickens at her grandmother's Bucks County house, including Cookie, Sparkle and Thelma, the boss of the bunch.
"I want to collect my own eggs and have my own chickens — just two little hens," Carisa said.
Carisa plans to keep them in a
2011年9月19日星期一
Wally's Chicken Coop Comes to Storrs
Wally’s Chicken Coop is not your normal sit down and eat restaurant. Instead of tables and chairs, Wally’s is decorated with a long wooden bench where customers can sit down and eat chicken bits and French fries out of a paper bag. But with handful of chicken restaurants around the Storrs area, one might wonder what makes this new joint special.
“It’s all homemade,” says Mike Natale, co-owner of Wally’s. Specializing in “chicken bits,” which Natale describes as handcrafted chicken nuggets cut from whole breast chicken and made fresh daily, Wally’s Chicken Coop offers a variety of chicken sandwiches, meal combos that include their house-made chicken bits and a side of French fries as well as breakfast sandwiches.
With the average price of each meal around $6 or $7, “it’s fairly priced,” says Matt Jerrild, a UConn student as well as a first-time customer to Wally’s Chicken Coop, who ordered The Mongo, described as a large order of chicken bits with a large order of fries and a can of soda.
The Coop attracts UConn students looking for an affordable, tasty bite, and with the restaurant just a little over one week old, the line of students speaks volumes to the quality of the food.
“[Business] is going pretty good,” says Natale. “It’s fun, it’s fun with the kids, they have a good time. We have a good atmosphere here.”
In response to their feelings towards past failures of other restaurants that have tried to stay alive in the same location, the brothers don’t seem too worried. “It doesn’t scare us at all,” says Natale. “We’re hard working guys and we just want to make a dollar for our kids and have some fun while we’re doing it.”
Although Natale along with his twin brother, Jeff Natale are co-owners of Wally’s Chicken Coop, the actual Wally is a 120 lb Bernese mountain dog who has been in the Natale family for three years.
“It’s all homemade,” says Mike Natale, co-owner of Wally’s. Specializing in “chicken bits,” which Natale describes as handcrafted chicken nuggets cut from whole breast chicken and made fresh daily, Wally’s Chicken Coop offers a variety of chicken sandwiches, meal combos that include their house-made chicken bits and a side of French fries as well as breakfast sandwiches.
With the average price of each meal around $6 or $7, “it’s fairly priced,” says Matt Jerrild, a UConn student as well as a first-time customer to Wally’s Chicken Coop, who ordered The Mongo, described as a large order of chicken bits with a large order of fries and a can of soda.
The Coop attracts UConn students looking for an affordable, tasty bite, and with the restaurant just a little over one week old, the line of students speaks volumes to the quality of the food.
“[Business] is going pretty good,” says Natale. “It’s fun, it’s fun with the kids, they have a good time. We have a good atmosphere here.”
In response to their feelings towards past failures of other restaurants that have tried to stay alive in the same location, the brothers don’t seem too worried. “It doesn’t scare us at all,” says Natale. “We’re hard working guys and we just want to make a dollar for our kids and have some fun while we’re doing it.”
Although Natale along with his twin brother, Jeff Natale are co-owners of Wally’s Chicken Coop, the actual Wally is a 120 lb Bernese mountain dog who has been in the Natale family for three years.
2011年4月24日星期日
Best fried chicken in Charlotte? It just might be Price's Chicken Coop
It’s not the best location. The building itself leaves a lot to be desired. Though there’s a large lot in the back, parking can still be a challenge.
It’s crowded nearly all of the time, with the lines waiting to order at the counter often 6-7 people deep. (and there’s 5-6 lines)
Most importantly there’s nowhere to sit. We mean that literally, nowhere. Price’s is take-out only. Take your box of goodies to your house, to your office, or eat it sitting on the bed of your pick-up like I did recently, just don’t plan on eating in the restaurant.
Call it soul food, southern food, comfort food or any other food, we’ll just call it southern fried goodness.
Price’s menu contains many items such as burgers, fried shrimp, fried shrimp and more. For us though, the reason to eat at this Charlotte staple is chicken, fried chicken, and it’s as good as it comes.
You’ll pay $6.25 for a quarter chicken (white meat) The all-white meat ½ chicken meal runs $8.75. You’ll receive cole-slaw, tater rounds, hush puppies and a roll with your meal. The service at Price’s is brisk and concise but friendly and your meal will be packaged in a carryout box with condiments and utensils.
It’s crowded nearly all of the time, with the lines waiting to order at the counter often 6-7 people deep. (and there’s 5-6 lines)
Most importantly there’s nowhere to sit. We mean that literally, nowhere. Price’s is take-out only. Take your box of goodies to your house, to your office, or eat it sitting on the bed of your pick-up like I did recently, just don’t plan on eating in the restaurant.
Call it soul food, southern food, comfort food or any other food, we’ll just call it southern fried goodness.
Price’s menu contains many items such as burgers, fried shrimp, fried shrimp and more. For us though, the reason to eat at this Charlotte staple is chicken, fried chicken, and it’s as good as it comes.
You’ll pay $6.25 for a quarter chicken (white meat) The all-white meat ½ chicken meal runs $8.75. You’ll receive cole-slaw, tater rounds, hush puppies and a roll with your meal. The service at Price’s is brisk and concise but friendly and your meal will be packaged in a carryout box with condiments and utensils.
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