Circus Tickets - an integrated circus has to provide for it's customers two separate entrances for blacks and whites, and two separate ticket officers.
This law was passed in Louisiana - a totally unnecessary law! They might have felt that if there was such thorough segregation everywhere else, why stop at a circus? You could still catch black germs at a circus, couldn't you? That's why Jim Crow laws are so random - segregation can't just stop at logical spots- it has to continue on. Once it's started, it can't stop. They might have felt motivated by the fact that since Blacks are the 'lower' kind of humanity, they couldn't enjoy something at the same level as the white people - so having to go to separate ticket booths might dampen the fun of a treat event for small black kids, and maybe encourage not going at all! These may have been likely motivations - all self centered and horrible to the black people. The whites did not realize that blacks were humans with the same rights, just as them.
I think this law is terrible. It makes me squirm to think of the embarrassment of going to the white ticket booth by accident and being turned away and laughed upon, and having done nothing wrong. It's just - barbaric. I think that if everybody had surpassed this hurdle sooner, a lot of depression nad degrading actions could have been avoided.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
A Wedding Story
I've written this from my Grandma's point of view, and I hope you like it!
Your Grandpa and I were absolutely giddy with excitement as I walked down the aisle in the church, with my Father clutching my pale hand in excitement. I squeezed his hand and smiled as he let go of my fingers and sat down on the polished wood benches and Manuel ( your Grand-dad) got up, his black shoes tapping the cold stone floor and his mouth quirked into a dashing smile. We settled ourselves at the end of the aisle in front of the fluffy-haired, white-haired, grey-cloaked priest and the beautiful sounds of Beethoven stopped abruptly and the priest began talking. Even at my own wedding the words the priest said bored me slightly - but I would never admit that. My mind wandered to other things - the date of my wedding, October 7th 1962, that would be forever our anniversary - imagine all the years to come! - and where we were being wedded. I had wanted somewhere glamourous and romantic, like Paris or Italy - but it was too expensive added to the price of the reception and the priest and all that piffle, so I was stuck with where I lived - Malta. The church we got married in was in St.Andrew's, quite a poor little chapel, but sweet all the same. It reminded me of meeting Manuel for the first time, not so long ago - just over 5 years! Of course, then we had no idea we would be having a wedding in a church stuffed with 200 blue and grey and yellow-ly dressed people with bouquets and gifts to the dozen. The priest's voice suddenly jolted me to attention, with the mention of my name. 'Doris Mallia, do you hereby declare you will love and cherish, care for in times of need, and love Manuel Grima?' he solemnly said. 'Yes.' I replied, giving Manuel and small, shy smile. As the little page boy ran up with our silver rings, the little flower girls, my cousins, and the maid of honour, my sister, looked on while smiling. They were all wearing little lacy pink boleros over white satin dresses, so they looked rather a picture. I felt old - why was I already at that age of marriage? But I fought it away - I was only 20, for Goodness sake! I decided my other feelings were better - I felt powerful, strong, happy, married.'Then, you may now kiss the bride!' the priest laughed, and Manuel leaned over and gave me a kiss. 'We're married now, Doris,' he seemed to cherish those words, in his own prim, proper way. 'Yes, Manuel - but we also have to cut the cake and do the proper reception before it's really official.' I laughed and pulled his hand. 'Time to get into the white beatle again!'
It was time for the reception! Time for the food, the fun, the laughs, the cake, the gifts! I loved receptions, and I knew since this was my own, that it would be even better.
As I sat by our cake, in the little hall we had rented down Sliema, being given the gifts, I put my hand on my wedding dress. It felt soft and puffy - it was like a ballgown, with a huge skirt made of tulle and a bodice made of creamy white silk, with little white stilettos to set the outfit off- thought you could barely see them, the dress was so long! My veil was of a soft netting, with white flowers adorning it's side; it was what I had wished to wear since I had taken my first steps. My bouquet was an assortment of white flowers : quite hard to get, as summer had just finished in Malta and most flowers were quite dead. I even wore a pearl crown! I sipped from my glass of wine and smiled at the huge cake. The huge cake that we had ordered from Elias Bonacci, THE most sought after confectioner! He had made 3 rich fruit cakes, each one bigger than the first, and covered them in white marzipan and iced the edges with white roses and ivory flowers. It was quite amazing. And it would soon be time to cut it - after the dance. Me and Manuel had to have first dance - any dance- and then our guests. I looked at the grand clock outside the church. Almost time!
My husband and I stood in the center of the dance floor as the classical music started up - he took my hand and we did a gentle waltz around the room. It felt funny, having all those people watch you, but exhilarating all the same. The song ended, and everybody flooded onto the dance area and started dancing - some totally out of tune! Some did a random jive, and some did serious waltzes - some sang along to the music! It was great fun and all too soon it was time to cut the cake.
Me and your Grandpa held the silver knife in our hands ( we held it together) and smelled the rich scent wafting up from the cake - fat sultanas, skinny raisins, glace cherries, and warm cake. Mmm! Even better than all the other cakes - chocolate cream, chocolate biscuit, green cream cherry biscuit, and hard cream meringues. I sunk the knife into the cake and started cutting fat slices - a big chunk for me and Manuel to freeze to eat on our next anniversary, a chunk for the witnesses to freeze, and all the rest to scoff here and now! I doled the slices out on plates and tried a bite. Delicious! But so filling! I only managed 1 slice before it got too much.
The ceremony lasted more than 3 hours combined with the reception, so when the time came for me to leave for the honeymoon, my wedding dress was not so white as it had been.... it was time for my 'honeymoon' ensemble! It was a turquoise linen dress with white pearls threaded on to it's hem. When I came out the changing room in the store, trying it on and wanting to show Manuel, a person mistook me for a model! Flattery really. I looked that good:)
I felt elated, because as soon as I stepped out of the changing rooms in my honeymoon clothes and into my wedding car, I knew my married life was starting.
My Gran's wedding day was, she says, the turning point in her whole life. She loved her wedding day and thought that it was perfect in little ways and so aggravating in others; '' I could have done without the part of the day where my Dad tried on his suit and it turned out to be the wrong size! We panicked but he had lots of other suits at the ready from past occasions, so it turned out OK. But I never fully forgave the suit company!'' She says fondly. Gran most enjoyed saying 'I do.' At her wedding, because it meant she was committing to marriage and she was married - I can't put into words how joyful she felt.
I loved my Gran's wedding. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't boring, it had great food, it was fun, and I want my wedding to be just like this when I'm older - just more modern, hopefully! I hope you liked reading about how my Gran saw her own wedding. I sure enjoyed writing it!
Your Grandpa and I were absolutely giddy with excitement as I walked down the aisle in the church, with my Father clutching my pale hand in excitement. I squeezed his hand and smiled as he let go of my fingers and sat down on the polished wood benches and Manuel ( your Grand-dad) got up, his black shoes tapping the cold stone floor and his mouth quirked into a dashing smile. We settled ourselves at the end of the aisle in front of the fluffy-haired, white-haired, grey-cloaked priest and the beautiful sounds of Beethoven stopped abruptly and the priest began talking. Even at my own wedding the words the priest said bored me slightly - but I would never admit that. My mind wandered to other things - the date of my wedding, October 7th 1962, that would be forever our anniversary - imagine all the years to come! - and where we were being wedded. I had wanted somewhere glamourous and romantic, like Paris or Italy - but it was too expensive added to the price of the reception and the priest and all that piffle, so I was stuck with where I lived - Malta. The church we got married in was in St.Andrew's, quite a poor little chapel, but sweet all the same. It reminded me of meeting Manuel for the first time, not so long ago - just over 5 years! Of course, then we had no idea we would be having a wedding in a church stuffed with 200 blue and grey and yellow-ly dressed people with bouquets and gifts to the dozen. The priest's voice suddenly jolted me to attention, with the mention of my name. 'Doris Mallia, do you hereby declare you will love and cherish, care for in times of need, and love Manuel Grima?' he solemnly said. 'Yes.' I replied, giving Manuel and small, shy smile. As the little page boy ran up with our silver rings, the little flower girls, my cousins, and the maid of honour, my sister, looked on while smiling. They were all wearing little lacy pink boleros over white satin dresses, so they looked rather a picture. I felt old - why was I already at that age of marriage? But I fought it away - I was only 20, for Goodness sake! I decided my other feelings were better - I felt powerful, strong, happy, married.'Then, you may now kiss the bride!' the priest laughed, and Manuel leaned over and gave me a kiss. 'We're married now, Doris,' he seemed to cherish those words, in his own prim, proper way. 'Yes, Manuel - but we also have to cut the cake and do the proper reception before it's really official.' I laughed and pulled his hand. 'Time to get into the white beatle again!'
It was time for the reception! Time for the food, the fun, the laughs, the cake, the gifts! I loved receptions, and I knew since this was my own, that it would be even better.
As I sat by our cake, in the little hall we had rented down Sliema, being given the gifts, I put my hand on my wedding dress. It felt soft and puffy - it was like a ballgown, with a huge skirt made of tulle and a bodice made of creamy white silk, with little white stilettos to set the outfit off- thought you could barely see them, the dress was so long! My veil was of a soft netting, with white flowers adorning it's side; it was what I had wished to wear since I had taken my first steps. My bouquet was an assortment of white flowers : quite hard to get, as summer had just finished in Malta and most flowers were quite dead. I even wore a pearl crown! I sipped from my glass of wine and smiled at the huge cake. The huge cake that we had ordered from Elias Bonacci, THE most sought after confectioner! He had made 3 rich fruit cakes, each one bigger than the first, and covered them in white marzipan and iced the edges with white roses and ivory flowers. It was quite amazing. And it would soon be time to cut it - after the dance. Me and Manuel had to have first dance - any dance- and then our guests. I looked at the grand clock outside the church. Almost time!
My husband and I stood in the center of the dance floor as the classical music started up - he took my hand and we did a gentle waltz around the room. It felt funny, having all those people watch you, but exhilarating all the same. The song ended, and everybody flooded onto the dance area and started dancing - some totally out of tune! Some did a random jive, and some did serious waltzes - some sang along to the music! It was great fun and all too soon it was time to cut the cake.
Me and your Grandpa held the silver knife in our hands ( we held it together) and smelled the rich scent wafting up from the cake - fat sultanas, skinny raisins, glace cherries, and warm cake. Mmm! Even better than all the other cakes - chocolate cream, chocolate biscuit, green cream cherry biscuit, and hard cream meringues. I sunk the knife into the cake and started cutting fat slices - a big chunk for me and Manuel to freeze to eat on our next anniversary, a chunk for the witnesses to freeze, and all the rest to scoff here and now! I doled the slices out on plates and tried a bite. Delicious! But so filling! I only managed 1 slice before it got too much.
The ceremony lasted more than 3 hours combined with the reception, so when the time came for me to leave for the honeymoon, my wedding dress was not so white as it had been.... it was time for my 'honeymoon' ensemble! It was a turquoise linen dress with white pearls threaded on to it's hem. When I came out the changing room in the store, trying it on and wanting to show Manuel, a person mistook me for a model! Flattery really. I looked that good:)
I felt elated, because as soon as I stepped out of the changing rooms in my honeymoon clothes and into my wedding car, I knew my married life was starting.
My Gran's wedding day was, she says, the turning point in her whole life. She loved her wedding day and thought that it was perfect in little ways and so aggravating in others; '' I could have done without the part of the day where my Dad tried on his suit and it turned out to be the wrong size! We panicked but he had lots of other suits at the ready from past occasions, so it turned out OK. But I never fully forgave the suit company!'' She says fondly. Gran most enjoyed saying 'I do.' At her wedding, because it meant she was committing to marriage and she was married - I can't put into words how joyful she felt.
I loved my Gran's wedding. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't boring, it had great food, it was fun, and I want my wedding to be just like this when I'm older - just more modern, hopefully! I hope you liked reading about how my Gran saw her own wedding. I sure enjoyed writing it!
Thursday, October 27, 2011
11 for 2011
What do I have in my pocket? Um, well, let's see; I've got a crumpled gum wrapper, and Halloween jelly thingy, and a 1cent coin. I'm rich!
What was the last thing I had to drink? Water, I guess. I never get juice!
What makes me happy? I love drawing, that makes me pretty happy, I love looking at messily-iced cupcakes - I don't know, it just has a certain cute thing about it - I enjoy cooking, and being with my family and my best friends, looking at sweet, fluffy harp seals, and reading lots of books.
The last nice thing I did for someone? Get Suzie, my sister, a cup of ice.
What SCARES me? A lot of things - snakes, crocodiles, reptiles, human eating animals - but strangely I adore bears; I just want to hug them, they're so adorable - even though they'd probably bite my head off!
The last movie I saw? Pirates of the Caribbean, which scared me so much I started screaming at one point!
The last song I sang was a mix of songs that have melded over the years in my head, so much so I can't pin point where each of it's different parts came from!
The last thing I bought? I went to 'Accesorize' with JJ last week and bought a set of sparkly pink sequined flower clips! Girly, I know.
I definitely couldn't live without my family, and my best friends - but if I had them, then a pencil, paper, and a REALLY FAT BOOK.
What do I hope for? To go to either St.Martin's college in England or Oxford - that's my dream, to become a writer or an artist.
I could live without lots of things- so that a hard one, Ms. Deu! I could probably do without the teasing I get, even though I try to laugh when it is given. Yep, I could definitely live my life without that!
What was the last thing I had to drink? Water, I guess. I never get juice!
What makes me happy? I love drawing, that makes me pretty happy, I love looking at messily-iced cupcakes - I don't know, it just has a certain cute thing about it - I enjoy cooking, and being with my family and my best friends, looking at sweet, fluffy harp seals, and reading lots of books.
The last nice thing I did for someone? Get Suzie, my sister, a cup of ice.
What SCARES me? A lot of things - snakes, crocodiles, reptiles, human eating animals - but strangely I adore bears; I just want to hug them, they're so adorable - even though they'd probably bite my head off!
The last movie I saw? Pirates of the Caribbean, which scared me so much I started screaming at one point!
The last song I sang was a mix of songs that have melded over the years in my head, so much so I can't pin point where each of it's different parts came from!
The last thing I bought? I went to 'Accesorize' with JJ last week and bought a set of sparkly pink sequined flower clips! Girly, I know.
I definitely couldn't live without my family, and my best friends - but if I had them, then a pencil, paper, and a REALLY FAT BOOK.
What do I hope for? To go to either St.Martin's college in England or Oxford - that's my dream, to become a writer or an artist.
I could live without lots of things- so that a hard one, Ms. Deu! I could probably do without the teasing I get, even though I try to laugh when it is given. Yep, I could definitely live my life without that!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
My name - Samantha
My name is Samantha, and that's how I like it, but before? When I was younger, I despised the name. I longed for a beautiful jewel name or a flower name, as I thought those exotic - and mine commonplace- but actually my name was nowhere near as common as others!
My name was originally English, and is mainly used in English speaking countries, but it was a variation on the name 'Samuel' which had originated in Israel - but in my name the Hebrew origin was so thoroughly diluted with the English it wasn't considered in any way to have a link with Israel. The meaning of my name is 'listener', so people who bear the name 'Samantha' are considered silently steady and responsible. I'm English, and so is my name, so there is a cultural significance in there.
My Mum chose the name Samantha because she loved the main character in the TV serial 'Bewitched', who simply twitched her nose and became a reigning witch. She thought Sam was so endearing the name Samantha grew on her, so when I came around, there was no need for a second name( boohoo) because my Mum and my Dad both thought the name Samantha was so beautiful, they knew I'd suit it. As soon as my Mum saw my little peachy head, she knew I was to be Sam.
I love my name now, not only because I now know the story behind it, but because my parents took the time to choose it for me - and they know best, right? So I would think it so sad to change it, because my name is full of sentimental value! I wouldn't like my kids to change the name I gave them - I probably will give them old fashioned, beautiful names, because I'm inspired by the people who bear them. Elizabeth, Oliver, Victoria, Grace, Diana, Audrey - These are all names I sometimes wish I had, they sound so graceful and swan-like. So, really, even though I have moments of wishing my name wasn't mine, overall I love my name and it's general story!
My name was originally English, and is mainly used in English speaking countries, but it was a variation on the name 'Samuel' which had originated in Israel - but in my name the Hebrew origin was so thoroughly diluted with the English it wasn't considered in any way to have a link with Israel. The meaning of my name is 'listener', so people who bear the name 'Samantha' are considered silently steady and responsible. I'm English, and so is my name, so there is a cultural significance in there.
My Mum chose the name Samantha because she loved the main character in the TV serial 'Bewitched', who simply twitched her nose and became a reigning witch. She thought Sam was so endearing the name Samantha grew on her, so when I came around, there was no need for a second name( boohoo) because my Mum and my Dad both thought the name Samantha was so beautiful, they knew I'd suit it. As soon as my Mum saw my little peachy head, she knew I was to be Sam.
I love my name now, not only because I now know the story behind it, but because my parents took the time to choose it for me - and they know best, right? So I would think it so sad to change it, because my name is full of sentimental value! I wouldn't like my kids to change the name I gave them - I probably will give them old fashioned, beautiful names, because I'm inspired by the people who bear them. Elizabeth, Oliver, Victoria, Grace, Diana, Audrey - These are all names I sometimes wish I had, they sound so graceful and swan-like. So, really, even though I have moments of wishing my name wasn't mine, overall I love my name and it's general story!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
My Traditions
Well, that's hard to cover. See, I'm Dutch, Maltese, and English, and those three combined create a LOT of traditions that are very extremely positively fun to celebrate, and a lot of stuff to write about. Anyways, here it goes. I'll just explain our core celebrations.
From a Dutch point of view, I celebrate 'Sinter klaas', a special Christmas celebration where Sinter Klaas, otherwise known as Santa Claus, comes in the dead of night on 5th December, flying with his 'Schvartepetter' (Black Petes) coming all the way from Belgium to give you sweets and gifts - traditionally a big chocolate initial and fat puffs of gingerbread cut in to perfect spheres - if you were good, and if you were bad, well, coal instead of gifts wasn't enough. The Sint would parcel you up in his canvas sack - and if Sint was having a good day he wouldn't roast you for eating all the sweets in the sack you were trapped in!
Malta is sort of an almond-loving country. You have to make special, hard almond cakes called 'Figola' with a shell of crunchy, soft alomondy cookie on top and bottom and the middle is stuffed and stuffed with sweet ground almond paste( and maybe some glace cherries or raisins), and then on top of everything there is sweet pink or green icing, traditionally. Sounds yummy, right? Also, in November, in some sort of 'party' for the dead, there is tremendous celebration and bone shaped cakes are eaten, almost like figolas but instead of a crunchy cookie base there is a softer pastry shell- but still stuffed with almonds!
Now, in England, I celebrate Guy Fawkes' day - a group of, as they are known now, 'guys', who desperately wanted to overthrow the parliament that was just opened and let England roll free.
''Remember, remember,
The fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot.
We see no reason why
Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!''
From a Dutch point of view, I celebrate 'Sinter klaas', a special Christmas celebration where Sinter Klaas, otherwise known as Santa Claus, comes in the dead of night on 5th December, flying with his 'Schvartepetter' (Black Petes) coming all the way from Belgium to give you sweets and gifts - traditionally a big chocolate initial and fat puffs of gingerbread cut in to perfect spheres - if you were good, and if you were bad, well, coal instead of gifts wasn't enough. The Sint would parcel you up in his canvas sack - and if Sint was having a good day he wouldn't roast you for eating all the sweets in the sack you were trapped in!
Malta is sort of an almond-loving country. You have to make special, hard almond cakes called 'Figola' with a shell of crunchy, soft alomondy cookie on top and bottom and the middle is stuffed and stuffed with sweet ground almond paste( and maybe some glace cherries or raisins), and then on top of everything there is sweet pink or green icing, traditionally. Sounds yummy, right? Also, in November, in some sort of 'party' for the dead, there is tremendous celebration and bone shaped cakes are eaten, almost like figolas but instead of a crunchy cookie base there is a softer pastry shell- but still stuffed with almonds!
Now, in England, I celebrate Guy Fawkes' day - a group of, as they are known now, 'guys', who desperately wanted to overthrow the parliament that was just opened and let England roll free.
''Remember, remember,
The fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot.
We see no reason why
Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!''
Is what we sing as we make small 'guys' like scarecrows, put them in prams and ask, 'a penny for the guy, ma'am?' of which many oblige - and then we ceremoniously throw throw them into a blazing fire! Lots of people then gobble warm fish and chips from the side of the road - though, unfortunately, not anymore packaged charmingly in newspaper.
P.S Sorry if I talk a lot about food - it's just one of my favourite parts of my culture:)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
My Favourite Spot
Imperial War Museum, London
This museum is my favourite place because I love history, and what happens behind the scenes at world wars and revolutions is rediscovered here. You can walk around, smelling what old subs smelled like, hunker down to sleep in a remake of a bed a sailor would have had, shoot blanks from guns while hiding in a stinky trench, experience a bombing during the blitz, wear Hitler's clothes, and learn about the holocaust intensely.This is what makes it special; a whole world inside one building.
Other people should visit this place because even if you don't enjoy history particularly, it will all come alive in this museum, and Social Studies class will never be the same again - because you'll have experienced it all, in your mind, first hand.
Hi, fellow bloggers!
Just wanted to say hi, hello, 'hola', 'aloha', 'bonjour', before I start posting, and because hello is just plain nice to say before you start talking, right?
So, Au revoir, bye-bye, salut!
So, Au revoir, bye-bye, salut!
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