Life in a Multicultural Society

America is a “melting pot”. We all have heard this expression, and if you live in the US, it is hard for you to argue with it. People from all over the world find their new home in the country, which opened its doors for everyone who was in need. Former citizens of Morocco and Philippines, Russia and Poland, Mexico and Italy build their new lives in the “land of the free, and the home of the brave”. Most of the people, including myself, think that such a “melting pot”, is what makes this country so irresistibly special and great. It is what makes it different from any other place. America provides the real freedom and equality to all its citizens, and that makes people appreciate their new homeland even more. But although everything stated above is true, nevertheless some American people concern that such a “domestic internationalism” and such a broad variety of different cultures and backgrounds in one country will lead to an inability for a social unity and compromise. Some think that in the time of trouble the United States will not be so “united”, since they consist of a number of multicultural groups that have very different opinions about social and political issues concerning the wellbeing of the American population.

So is it possible for a country to be a “one nation under G-d”, in spite of it’s variety of multicultural heritages? To answer this question, I will give you an example of another country, which is in a very similar social situation. Israel is one of the youngest countries in the world, and does not have its own native population. Over ninety percent of its population consists of fresh immigrants from dozens of different countries of Eastern Europe, Africa, America and Middle East, whose cultures are nothing alike. Indeed, Israel is the country of different cultures! And after all, how can you expect a first generation immigrant from Morocco to get along with a Polack that just moved to Israel from his little town in eastern Poland? Can they unite for the common cause? Yes, they can. And in Israel, they do every day. In spite of enormous differences in their views, they have a reason to feel a passionate brotherly love for each other, and that reason is their little country. Their new little home with its pluses and minuses, with its problems and worries.

Walking on a street of any city in Israel, it is hard to see two people that look alike: all the possible shades of skin color, hair, faces, national dresses, religious outfit attributes of all the religions in the world… But when the time comes, all of them are nothing but one people, one nation, relating and feeling for each other.

One of the best examples of the ability and will of these different people to unite is the Memorial Day. In Israel, the Memorial Day is the day of memory for all of those who gave their lives for the land of Israel. One of the biggest emotional attributes of that day is the air raid siren that is played in every corner of the country. When the sirens wails, the whole country comes to a standstill. It is an emotional moment as Israelis unite in their sorrow over the loss of those who have given their lives for the State. Given the small size of the country (five million) and the number of fallen (over 200,000), it is hard to find someone was not the relative or friend of a fallen soldier. Here is how the Memorial Day is described by a famous Israeli writer Avi Hein in his book “Yom A-Zikaron”:

Perhaps the most widely recognized commemoration, as on Yom HaShoah, an air raid siren is played twice during Yom Ha-Zikaron. All activity, including traffic, immediately ceases. People get out of their cars, even in the middle of otherwise busy highways, and stand in respect for the sacrifice of those who died defending Israel. The first siren marks the beginning of Memorial Day and the second is sounded immediately prior to the public recitation of prayers in military cemeteries. During the siren, the whole country comes to a standstill - people stop working, children stop playing, and even drivers stop driving. Everyone stands at attention in silence as the siren wails in memory of the fallen. It is a very emotional and difficult day in Israel as this small country remembers the many young soldiers who have given their lives so the Jewish State could exist.

Such consideration for each others feelings carries a great amount of love for the fellow citizens in spite of their cultural differences. This is an example of a “brick” that brings people together, makes them understand how close to each other they really are, and how all those differences are irrelevant in the eyes of a common issue.

Here in America, we also have such a “brick”. It is Freedom. The Freedom that was given to all of us in the equal manner. America is indeed a “melting pot” and that is what makes this country so unique, so desirable, and so amazing. And every social group has to value and watch over their unique qualities such as their history and culture. They have to be proud of their heritage, and in no way to be ashamed of it, or try to forget it. But we are people of one nation, and in the difficult time we have to stand up for what our country stands for. We have to unite and help each other, seeing nothing but a friend and a fellow American in each other no matter what our cultural differences could be. Because that what America was meant to be, and that is what it is destined to retain.

Purim (Holiday)

Jewish calendar has many various holidays. Some of them are happy, some of them are sad, some are more religious, and some are more cultural, but they all have a story behind them, and they all play a big role in the observance of Jewish religion and complying with the commitments of every day’s life cycle.

The holiday, I want to tell you about, is by far the most joyful and happiest of all the Jewish holidays. It is called Purim, and we celebrate it on the 14th day of Adar by the Jewish calendar, or on March, 4th by the western calendar. What is Purim? It is the day of the Miracles, the day of Survival. In Israel people say, that all the Jewish holidays can be described by the same definition:” They wanted to kill us, but we won! Lets eat!” Purim is a perfect example of such understanding. Let me give you a short introduction to Purim.

Purim celebrates the salvation of the Jewish people, in the year 3405 from Creation (356 bce), from Haman's plot "to destroy, kill and annihilate all the Jews, young and old, infants and women, in a single day." Haman was prime minister to the Persian emperor Achashverosh. Enraged that Mordechai the Jew "would not bow or prostate himself before him," Haman argued before Achashverosh that "one people, scattered and divided in all provinces of your realm, whose laws are different from those of all peoples" ought not be allowed to exist. After receiving a permission from the king, Haman selected the day for the execution of his plan by throwing the “purim” (craps, Persian). After a series of events, the roles have switched and Haman was punished by the king, and Jewish people were saved.

The story of Purim is written in one of the books of Torah, which is called the Book of Ester. And although Purim, as we said, can be described by the general definition of a Jewish holiday, it is very different from anything else. The Book of Ester is called “Maghilat Ester” in Hebrew, and these words have another meaning: “to reveal the hidden”. Purim is all about the revealing of the hidden. For example, the Book of Ester is the only book of Torah, where the name of God is not used once; however the Torah scholars tell us, that behind all the “coincidences” that help to save Jewish people from Haman is indeed nothing but the Divine Presence of God. Consequently, one of the traditions that we have for celebrating Purim is to dress up in costumes and hide our faces behind masks. Also, on Purim we eat “Hamentashi”, cookies with the stuffing inside, to symbolize the revelation.

When we celebrate Purim, we come to the synagogue to listen to the reading of the Book of Esther, and afterwards, we have a feast when we invite friends and family, and we sit together at the table and sing happy song about the holiday. Additionally, Purim is the day when we give presents. We give at least two food presents to our friends and also money to the charities and to the people in need.

No doubt, in every country, for every social, national, or religious group of people, holidays are much more than just a day off from work. Holidays remind us about our history, our culture, our heritage. They are that common subject that helps people get together and realize how close they really are to each other. My hope is that in the future we will only have joyful happy holidays, because there will be no sad things to remember.

The quotations were taken from the “Magilat Ester”, the book of Torah.

What is your name? (Name)

The topic of this essay is very exciting to me, since my name could be one of the most unique characteristics of my family. I was born in Russia. When I was eleven years old, I had a chance to read a story about one ancient hero, which caught my attention. That hero was Alexander the Great. Alexander was born to a Macedonian King Phillip in 356 BC. When he was a young boy, his father died, and Alexander became a new leader of Macedonian people. He soon has revealed himself as a talented warrior and strategist, as he started invading the nearby countries. Before his death, he conquered most of the world known to the ancient Greeks, never losing a battle. He has achieved so much, that even today we know him as one of the greatest conquerors of all times.

Why did this story surprise me so much? Well, back then, I was living in Russia, where, unlike US, Alexander the Great is known as Alexander of Macedonia, or in Russian: “Alexander Makedonsky.”

Now imagine, what an eleven year old boy is supposed to feel, when he finds out, that he has the same last and first name as the great warrior! I was shocked, I was excited, and I could not sleep! Not only his last name, but even the first name! Jack pot! It was better than finding a real UFO, which was at the top of my dream list at that time. I couldn’t wait to tell all of my friends about my discovery.

All of the sudden, I’ve had remembered a story, that happened to me when I was six years old. My mother took me to a movie theater, where a nice old lady, who was checking our tickets at the entrance, decided to talk to the little boy: ”Such a nice boy,” she said to me, “What is your name?”
“Alexander Makedonsky,” I replied.
Her face has changed.
“You are such a little boy, and already are a liar!”
That was a hit below the belt. I had no idea, why she said that, so I started crying.
“I’m not a liar,” I said to her through the tears.

When I turned thirteen, I started to learn more about my famous namesake, and how surprised I was to find out that a few hundred years after Alexander’s death, two of his descendents, that carried his name, moved up north, and founded the city in the area where all of my ancestors are from.

Does that mean that my family could have had a direct connection with the Macedonian conqueror? We don’t know, but now we have a great story to tell our new friends, when we get together for dinner.

But that is not the end of the saga yet. At the age 19, I have moved to my new home, the United States of America, and … No one knows “Alexander Makedonsky”! People don’t look at me funny when I introduce myself, sales persons don’t ask me about my family heritage when I hand them my credit card, no one recognizes my name. I gave up my life of a “family name celebrity”.

Moreover, my name had to go through some transformation procedures as well. While applying for a status of a US citizen, I was told that every American should have a middle name, and since in Russia people don’t use middle names, so I should just choose one. But how can I choose myself another name?! So I was told to use my fathers name as a middle name. Now, my dad had the same first name as I, so Alexander Alexander Makedonsky appeared in the application. A month later, I received a letter from INS stating, that in the US people can not have the exact same first and middle name, so in the records my official name will be… Alexander Alexandr Makedonsky. They got rid of one letter in my middle name. So after such a “name circumcision” they left it alone and it became my new full name.

Recently I have started a process of converting into Judaism, in other words, to become a Jew. And one of the requirements, as I found out, at the end of the conversion will be choosing a new, “Jewish” name for myself. That could only mean that the story of my name is to be continued.

Many years ago, one famous Russian writer said, that the name of a person defines his fate. I can only argue, and say that my experience showed the exact opposite. I don’t know how many more stories my name will create, but I know for sure, that it will always be reflecting my life and the life of my family just like it has been doing so far.

A Festival for Remembrance (Holiday)

Every time someone asks me what my heritage is I laugh. I try and explain to them that I am a lot of things but mainly Basque, German, and Polish. People say, “Basque? What is that?” I proceed to explain to them that the Basque people live in the westernmost part of the Pyrenees Mountains between Spain and France. I learned about my heritage because there is a Basque festival every year in the town where my mom is from. “Four of the provinces are in Spain (Guipuzcoa, Vizcaya, Alava, and Navarra) and three provinces in France (Soule, Labourd, and Basse-Navarre)” (Anderson).

The Basque people were separated into their own land but had a variety of normal working class jobs, such as peasants and fisherman. In the early Middle Ages they were skilled boat makers, whale hunters, and cod fisherman hunting far into the Atlantic. Many of those who lived more inland were sheepherders and farmers. The main city in their country, which would be considered their capital, is called Pamplona. This city has withstood a lot of battles and is still standing today. The Basque people survived through almost everything; even the great Roman Empire who tried to conquer them around 407 AD. The Romans tried to conquer the Basque people but in the end the Basque’s lived under minimal Roman rule. The civil wars that were fought in Spain, called the “Carlist Wars” caused the Basques to break up. “The wars were fought over people who wanted to retain the medieval legal structure of Spain and those who wanted to reform it using the principles of the French Revolution” (The Peoples of Europe). After all these wars and problems many fled to North and South America.

My great grandpa left Spain in the 1946 for a long journey to America, herding sheep for a man. Once my great grandpa paid off his debt to the man he was free to go and live his own life. He received his citizenship and started his own life in Elko, Nevada. My grandpa is one example of many other Basques who came to this great country. Throughout the years the Basque descendants have slowly forgotten their heritage and all their traditions. I myself, only have knowledge because there is a National Basque festival in Elko, Nevada. My mom’s from Elko, so I had the privilege of going to the festival a couple of times. The National Basque festival is held every year in Elko because many of the Basque people settled in Nevada for their animals to graze on the good land. The Basque people have different sorts of entertainment similar but different to those of the western civilization.

In Elko, they have the Basque festival at the beginning of July. First, the festival starts off with running from the bulls. The contestants have to be eighteen and are encouraged to wear a white shirt and pants and a red scarf and sash worn the traditional Basquo way. The contestants run from one part of the town to another. After this happens, little shops begin to pop up at the fair grounds and people from all over the nation come to Elko. Most of these shops are antique shops or shops where you can by art crafts and other little trinkets. A lot of them have not only Basque foods but other kinds as well. For instance, one booth might sell Indian tacos, which are similar to tostadas. Over the weekend, a huge festival begins. There are many games and contests the visitors can take part in. My uncles participated in a few of the events. One of them did a weightlifting competition where the contestants pick up a two foot by two foot granite or stone ball that is two hundred and fifty pounds the first round and three hunderd pounds the second round and see how many times they can roll it around their neck. There’s one weight competition where the contestants pick up one hundred and four pound weights in each hand and see how many times they can walk around two posts. My other uncle participated in wood contests that consisted of chopping down trees, sawing wood, and building sheds. There is a relay that consists of three tasks. The first person has to chop down a tree, the second has to carry weights and the third person has to use water to leverage a wooden door to open and let the water through. The kids participate in various games as well. One in particular is called soka tira, which is a form of Basque tug-or-war. Kids and adults participate in a handball game where they have to hit a ball with there hand against a concrete wall.

On the Saturday morning of the festival there is a huge parade that lasts for about a half an hour. It consists of adults and kids of all ages. They wear the Basque colors red, black, green, and white. The women wear a red and black skirt, white shirt, black vest, red scarf, and a white bandana. The men wear a black hat, white shirt, black pants, white socks and a red vest. The parade consists of various dances, beautiful parade floats that are decorated according to the year’s theme, important people, and a hefty amount of the people in the contests. Throughout the day there is Basque dancing, singing, and even a yelling contest. The contestants do a Basque yell called Irinzi, and who ever does the best one gets a prize. For lunch there is a huge feast. The traditional food is Basque beans, lamb stew, and sheepherder bread, which is made out of butter, sugar, salt, water, yeast and unbleached flour and is cooked in a Dutch oven. Towards the end of the day, there is a sheepdog contest where the owners give their dogs commands and which ever dog runs the sheep to the end point the fastest wins the contest. There is a contest called the sheep-hooking contest where only ranchers are allowed to participate. In this contest, the ranchers see who can hook the sheep the fastest out of the shoot and into their pens.

There are a lot of food contests, such as the best chili contest. Visitors are allowed to walk around and try samples of all of the foods entered into the contest. Some of the foods are even judged by the visitors themselves. On Sunday, there is a bread baking contest where the contestants bake bread and the visitors judge it. Later that day, there is a huge dance competition that only Basque people can participate in. The nights conclude with Basque people and visitors getting drunk, dancing, and watching a huge firework show seen throughout the town.

The Basque festival is not put on for any particular reason. The festival happens annually so that the Basque people in North America have a chance to get in touch with their roots and see what their old traditions are like. The Basque festival is a wonderful celebration that sadly only comes around once a year at the beginning of July.

Angela Christine Jacobs (Name)

Angela isn't that random of a name but it is also not very popular. I've heard my name a couple of times growing up but not a lot. My parents were thinking of names for me but they could not agree on one thing. My mom wanted my name to be Anchoni and my dad wanted some other random name.

One day my parents were thinking of names and my oldest brother happened to be in the room with them. My brother met my mom's friend one time and remembered her name for some reason. He chimed in and said, "What about Angela?" My parents obviously liked it because that is what my name is. I had a lot of nick-names growing up. My dad called me Angie-bean and my mom called me Angel. Now that I’m all grown up, people call me Ang or Angie.

My middle name came from my aunt. Her middle name is Christine. My dad's side of the family wanted to continue that name. Since I was the first girl born on that side of the family, my mom and dad decided to give it to me.

Jacobs is an old English name that goes way back. I know a lot of people with that last name but I am not related to any of them. My great great grandfather John and his wife Teofila came over to America in the early 1900's from Poland. Their son Joseph married my great grandmother, Marie. They had all their kids living in the same house with them. My great great grandma Teofila was such a witch that my great grandpa couldn't take it and moved away. He joined the army and went off to World War I. While he was there he thought it was hard for people to pronounce Jakubowski, that was our real last name; so he decided to shorten it to Jacobs.

The name kind of stuck with him so he kept it after he got out of the military. My great grandpa never legally changed it but because he was a general in the army and the fact that it wasn't hard to change your name back then, he kept it. My great grandpa changed it for a couple other reasons as well. When he joined the army he thought people might be prejudice against foreigners in the military. So that was another reason to change it, to protect him, his family, and his polish pride. After he got out of the war he had my grandpa (Leonard Jacobs) who proceeded to have my dad (Andrew Jacobs). Andrew met his wife Robbie Zaga and they had a daughter named Angela Jacobs. Jacobs was passed down from generation to generation all the way down to me, but I will not be the last.

Out of all three of my names I like my last name the best. I have met a couple Angela's before and I haven't liked them very much. They kind of ruined the name for me. My parents wanted to name me Michael if I was going to be a boy. I have no idea why but I’m kind of glad I am a girl. My cousin's name is Michael so I guess it all worked out for the better. My middle name Christine is all right. I like the fact that it was my aunt's middle name, but it kind of reminds me of a good little school girl. I guess the name was just meant to be in the family. I love my last name. No one can ever take you away from your last name. I was a little upset when I found out my great grandpa changed it because how cool and random of a name is Jakubowski. Sometimes I wish our last name was still Jakubowski because I love that name. I hate when I meet other people with the last name Jacobs because we our not related at all; we just have the same last name. It's always awkward too. In the end though, I guess it doesn’t matter because I grew up with Jacobs and that's all I've ever known.

My Mother Named Me Deborah (Name)

Deborah was my mother’s favorite name when I was born, so naturally this was the name she chose for me. There have been four gallant women in history named Deborah; each woman had one or more of these qualities, nurturing, courage, and/or admirable for their great accomplishments. Deborah is a feminine name with deep Hebrew meaning. My mother could not have picked a better name for me.

Deborah in Hebrew has means “the bee” and “to speak kind words.” In many baby name books, you will see Deborah’s meaning is “the bee.” In my opinion, “the bee” means to go from flower to flower taking the sweet pollen and spreading it around to other flowers. In turn, Deborah means to go from one person to another person, bringing out the sweetness each person holds, while speaking kind words to everyone she meets.

An admired woman named Deborah can be found in our recent history. Many people adored the beautiful Scottish born actress named Deborah Kerr. She was nominated for an Academy Award for best actress on six separate occasions. In 1993, Deborah Kerr received an “Honorary Oscar” for “perfection, discipline and elegance” concerning her life on the screen. Deborah Kerr had the admirable quality.

Debra R. Lappin Esq. has used the experience of her painful ankylosing spondylitis, a form of arthritis usually only found in men, to help people who suffer from arthritis. After becoming a lawyer, is when Debra Lappin started suffering from this rare form of arthritis. Her experience with her own pain helped her to understand the pain people encounter, so she worked vigorously at the state and national levels to raise the awareness for arthritis sufferers. Debra Lappin has instrumental in changing the laws in the state of Colorado. She used the understanding of arthritis sufferers qualify for handicapped parking permits.

We can read the biblical past about a nurse named Deborah. Deborah was a nurse who took care of a woman named Rebekah for many years until her own death. It is thought that Deborah was the nursemaid that cared for the woman from an infant to adulthood. She was thought to have nourished Rebekah back to health. If this were true, it would be another example of nurturing meaning behind the name Deborah.

Another story of the Bible tells of a prophetess named Deborah. She rose to help lead an army of Israelites to defeat the Canaanites. It was very rare for a woman of that era to become a revolutionary leader. Deborah’s valiant wisdom created a time of peace for her people. You can say Deborah was considered courageous for leading her people in war.

The name Deborah has such an alluring history with a beautiful Hebrew meaning. With all that my name Deborah represents, courage, admiration, and nurturing, it is easy to understand why my mother would love the name Deborah. I feel fortunate for my mother to have picked this name for me. With all the name “Deborah” stands for, it makes me the person I am today.

A Penny for the Guy (Holiday)

All over the world, many different countries celebrate many different holidays. Many countries have their own special holidays they celebrate. The Forth of July and Thanksgiving are two examples of American holidays that are not celebrated anywhere else. England has one of these holidays that they celebrate on the fifth of November. The holiday is called “Guy Fawkes Day” and it is celebrated with fireworks and bonfires throughout England. This holiday is not a celebration of some noble person or deed but of a failed terrorist plot to blow up the English House of Parliament.

Guy Fawkes was born to Edward Fawkes and Edith Blake on April 13, 1570 in Stonegate, England. At three days old, Fawkes was baptized as a Protestant in the church of St. Michael le Belfrey on April 16, 1570. He also went to a Protestant school, free school of St. Peters in York. He had one sister born that died at seven weeks old before his birth and two other sisters born after his birth. Fawkes was his father’s only son. His father was a strong Protestant. When his father died in 1579, Fawkes’ mother remarried in 1582 to a man named Dionis Baynbrigge who was a Catholic extremist. Fawkes converted from Protestant to Catholic when he was about sixteen years old. It was believed that Fawkes was greatly influenced by his new father’s strong Catholic beliefs.

In 1592, Fawkes sold his inheritance from his father, Edward Fawkes. He served as a footman for Anthony-Maria Browne, Second Viscount Montague. In 1593, Fawkes assisted in Spain’s capture of the town of Calais. He also enlisted in the Army of Archduke Albert of Austria in the Netherlands. He fought against the Protestant United Provinces in the Eighty Years’ War for the armies of Catholic Spain. While he worked for many years as a soldier, he gained much knowledge of explosives. Soon after leaving Army of Archduke’s force, Fawkes traveled to Spain to reacquaint himself with King Philip II, and inform the king about England’s true position with the Catholic Church.

The extreme Puritans and Catholics were attacked in 1604 at the Hampton Court conference. King James I was going to enforce “penal laws” against the Catholics, which was a surprise to the Catholics. King James had promised leniency to the Catholics upon the death of Elizabeth. Instead, he continued what Elizabeth started and sided with the Protestants. The extreme Puritans and Catholics went to Spain to ask for help. They wanted to bring England back to the Catholic state it once was. Spain had told them that they were in too many wars and too much debt to help the English Roman Catholics. Therefore, Spain would not help in the attempt for the Catholics to regain England. Any possibility of a Catholic state was removed. This caused the plotters to realize that no one from the outside would help unless something drastic took place. The plot may have been conspired to change Spain’s position with helping to bring a Catholic state back.

Guy Fawkes was not one of the conspirators who originally thought of the plot. The plot was master minded by Robert Catesby. Thomas Winter asked around for Guy Fawkes, while Fawkes was in Spain. Winters wanted to recruit Fawkes for his great knowledge of bombs and gunpowder. Winter was believed to be one of Fawkes’ earlier schoolmates. He told Fawkes about the plan to get Spain involved in the struggle to reinstate Catholicism. The plan was centered on one goal, blowing up the English House of Parliament and King James I on the opening day, November 5, 1605. From that point, Winters made Fawkes the lead man in this plan because he had the expertise needed to set off explosives. Fawkes went out to look for something to rent close to the House of Lords. He was in luck to find a small room below Parliament. The conspirators were very pleased that Fawkes made such a find, so close to the House of Lords. For almost a year, an aggrieved Catholic landowner, Guy Fawkes, rented a cellar below the House of Lords. Fawkes and his co-conspirators mined out the cellar and filled it with barrels of gunpowder.

Almost a year passed and the conspirators continued to mine and fill the cellar with gunpowder. Fear eventually grew for fellow Catholics who might be present at the Parliament during the opening, so a letter from one of the conspirators was sent to warn Lord Monteagle. The letter was a warning to not show up to the opening night of the English House of Parliament. This letter was thought to have been passed on to the officials, which caused the alarm to search beneath the Parliament. Guy Fawkes was captured on the eve of the opening, November 5, 1605. The state men sent out guards that caught Fawkes inside the mined cellar with thirty-six barrels filled with gunpowder. The barrels where hidden with wood and blankets. Fawkes was arrested and tortured for several days. The king had granted special permission for the torture to be done on Fawkes. He eventually confessed the names of his co-conspirators, dead and alive. The conspirators who were not already dead were hunted and eventually killed or captured. Later, Fawkes and three of his confederates were tried for treason and attempted murder. After they were found guilty they were taken to Old Palace Yard in Westminster and St. Paul’s Yard to be hung on January 31, 1606.

On the first anniversary King James I, declared a celebration for the foiling of the plot and the capture of all involved. In 1606, bonfires were started and King James I set out a feast for all in celebration. The bonfires were used to clean out unwanted items or trash that can burn, and create heat to cook food. In the early 1800’s, burning the “effigies” of Guy was started. The effigies are dressed in the three colors of the English flag on his coat, waistcoat, trousers, an evil looking head, a colorful mask and topped with a brown brimmed hat from the seventeenth century.

To this day, on every November 5, the streets of England celebrate the foiling of Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators’ plan. Before each opening of a session and on every November 5, the vaults are searched below the Parliament. The children run through the streets, dragging stuffed effigies called “Guy” while shouting, “A penny for the guy!” People looking will throw rotten vegetables, sticks, and insults at the “Guy” effigies. Coins are also thrown and the children collect them to buy snacks or fireworks for later that night. Bonfires are started around towns, and the “Guy” effigies are thrown onto the fire to simulate the burning of Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators. Later that same night, fireworks are set off, followed by a huge feast, and the children roast chestnuts and potatoes on the bonfire.

As November 5 approaches, people all over England begin to prepare for the celebration. They celebrate this beloved holiday, and they remember how a common person named Guy Fawkes born in Stonegate, York tried to bring Catholicism back to the English Parliament. If this plot had not been uncovered, it would have been a catastrophic event and remembered as a day of mourning. His failure to blow up the English Parliament and King James I is not only remembered but also celebrated.

Works Referenced
http://www.britannia.com/history/g-fawkes.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes
http://www.infoplease.com/spot/guyfawkes.html
Encyclopedia Americana (1966) Fawkes, Guy
Carole S. Angell “Celebrations Around the World, A Multicultural Handbook” Pages 140-141

You Want a Promotion? (Narrative)

From the age of nineteen, I worked at a semi-conductor manufacturing company. For eleven years, I worked hard to master every machine on the floor. I established records for the most work produced with the least amounts of defects, and created standards for specifications so the next worker would be more efficient. After three years, I felt ready to proceed to a team lead role. After five failed attempts, it became evident to me that hard work is not always rewarded, especially when a company is looking to improve profits.

While growing up, I only had a couple of jobs; working at a beauty shop washing hair and hosting for KFC. When my girlfriend, Sandra, told me about a big company that just moved into town, the realization of better job opportunities thrilled me. After the contractors completed construction, it ended up being a huge three-story building that took up the whole block. The company manufactured transistors from raw silicon wafers, and the starting pay was more than the fast food restaurant pay that I was currently making at that time.

Since Sandra had already been working there, she put in a good reference for me. The company tested all new hires with a simple test. I think the test was only to see if the new hires could follow directions. The first page of the test was full of basic adding and subtracting problems. The second page contained elementary instructions on how to run a machine. At the bottom of the second page were questions about those instructions. It asked questions like, “What button do you push to start the machine described above?” and “What do you do after pressing the blue button?”

I started the night shift on a rainy April night in 1988. A human resources representative greeted me when I walked into the massive building. She was almost six feet tall with a slanted smile, and she happily handed me a blue smock with a badge attached to it. We walked up the stairs to the second floor, where the production floor was located. There were large windows across the front side; you could tell it was for tours of people to come by and stare at the operators as if they were animals in the zoo. At the time the production floor was only a quarter full with machines with still enough left over empty space to add a skating rink; loud voices could be heard echoing across the floor.

The production floor was assembling semi-conductors for use in many different appliances. They created the actual die on silicon wafers in the clean room on the other end of the building. The clean room was cleaner than an operating room. The created die on the wafers were tested and cut before they were stored. On the production floor, the wafers were batched into manageable lot sizes. The lots were soldered onto a frame with the legs wired to the die, and then the lots had to melt and press a mold compound around the die and cover the legs with solder. Finally, the lots were cut, tested, marked, and sent off for inspection.

The night shift supervisor assigned me to inspecting the assembled conductors, and he handed me a book to use as reference. It contained details of the many kinds of defects that were not acceptable, along with pictures that showed the defects. It also had pictures of good semi conductor so you could tell what it should look like.

Later that year the company dismantled the quality department and merged the inspectors with the production operators. The company transferred me to the wire-bonding machine. It was a simple machine to work. The only critical task was to verify the right wire size to the specifications. Soon later, I moved to the soldering machine and the molding compound. I became so proficient at the mold compound machine that I required two employees to inspect for me, and together we set records that no one had even come close to achieving. We produced the most diodes molded with little to no defects. Eventually, I worked on every machine on the production floor, and received many award plaques for setting production records and perfect attendance.

The first time I applied for the lead position, I felt very confident. Then the supervisor told me that he was sorry, and explained to me that the other candidate got the promotion because she on the same shift as the opening and it would cause less disruption. I understood the reasoning behind that decision. The second time I petitioned for a promotion, it was for the same shift I worked on, and rejected again, the supervisor told me the other employee had a better interview than I did. I talked to other supervisors who helped me improve my interviewing skills. The third time, the supervisor told me the other candidate had more seniority than I did; she had one year longer than I did. The fourth time, I had worked more years than the girl who got the job over me and this time my supervisor says that she had better references than I did. Finally the fifth time I applied, the supervisor said it was close, but the other employee just barely beat me out. I could not believe it. There was no reason why I never got the promotion. I worked harder and had a better record than any one who had made it to the lead position.

I finally gave up on becoming a production lead and tried for the stock room clerk position. The stock room selected me and I was going to be moved to another shift, but before I could get to the Human Resources Department to sign the papers; my supervisor approached me and said, “Hey Deborah, can I talk to you real quick?”
“Sure.”
“Can I make a deal with you to not take the stock room position?”
“What is the deal?”
“If you don’t take that position, we will make you the next production lead.”
“Why did I not get the promotion before? Did I not work hard enough or did I do something wrong?”
“No, your work was great.”
“Then why are you offering me the job now?”
“Well, if I promoted you, then who would be there to put out the numbers with the quality as you did?”

I was shocked when I realized the company had held me back for its own benefit. The years of hard work did not help me become a production lead; it had suppressed me instead. In the end my productivity, hard work, and devotion was my downfall. It was a proven example of how hard work often leads to more work. While the lazy and unproductive are promoted, the hard workers of the world are forced to work even harder.

How to post your essays on this blog

First, you need to become a member of this blog which requires that I invite you. So, e-mail me at SD_FitzGerald@yahoo.com and let me know that you want to receive extra credit for posting your essay online. Between the time of when you e-mail me and when I respond, you should do two things: 1) Improve your essay by correcting any errors I may have noted. 2) Create a Blogger account for yourself with the same e-mail from which you requested to join this blog. Please enter your name as you would on a paper.

Once I invite you, accept the invitation. You will be able to create a new post. Copy your essay from your word processing program and paste it in the new post. From what I have seen, Blogger does not cater to indenting paragraphs so you may need to add spaces between paragraphs to maintain their separation. Dialogue can be the exception.

I will add to these instructions as needed, but for the moment I think it is as simple as that. Please feel free to comment below.