Federal cases are forever felonies. There is no mechanism to expunge the conviction. No judge has the authority to remove the label. Given the disproportionate number of LGTBIAQ+ people and People of Color in prison since the Reagan era, there are scores of people wearing the label FELON. This does nothing positive for a person who wishes to re-enter society and be productive. It can never be put behind you. Twenty-four years later, you will still be considered a pariah. The lifetime sentence is outrageous and should be remedied, but fairness is not important in the Federal Justice System. The only thing prosecutors and judges care about- besides their own families- is harsh punishment and unkindness. There exists no acceptable level of redemption. Felons who have no recidivism after 10, 20, 30 years are still felons and undesirables. There is no redemption. Lisa Hanna’s boyfriend told the Feds that she, and not he, was the KINGPIN. She got 15 years minimum mandatory; the scoundrel walked free! She is a lawyer with bar cards in two states but can never lose the label of felon. BG was told she was collateral damage. She can never lose the label of felon. The prosecutors on the Massachusetts Board of Bar Overseers will not return the law license of a lesbian whose felony (not involving client funds) was 22 years ago. How is this fair? A white male who stole from his clients got his license back pronto. THE SYSTEM IS BROKEN!!

J E

 Date: 9/15/23

 Congressional districts are the 435 regions from which voting representatives are elected to the U.S. House of Representatives. These districts are also used to calculate the population of the world.  Congressional maps are meant to divide states into equal sections so that people of different backgrounds are represented. However,  Alabama Republicans have reconstructed these maps in a way that dilutes the power of black voting representatives. They’ve done this by decreasing the number of black districts in the state. Also by taking voting stations out of black neighborhoods to decrease the amount of black representatives being elected.  Alabama’s congress uses its power to gerrymander against American Americans just because they can.

  The change in the congressional map has made a horrific impact on African-American representatives. It tremendously decreases the chances of an African American being elected.  Although Alabama’s congress has been told to stop gerrymandering these acts will likely continue. African Americans in Alabama have protested for their rights. But to stop African American representatives from being overshadowed the congressional maps will need to include more black districts.

07-29-2020

Survival of the Fittest means a person that’s the strongest, sharpest, and that’s able to adapt to new places. In school, you have to be the fittest, because to be successful in life you have to try your hardest to come out as the best. Another scenario is athletes, they also have to adapt to new places such as gyms, fields, etc. 

Education is key without it, it’s hard to get a good job. That’s why Ms. Wendy pushes me to be the best I can be. So I can have a great job and be able to support my family.  Not only in my work but in everything I do, I should be the best. It is also good to keep a positive attitude. If you keep a positive mentality, it is easier to succeed. 

White Fang and Kache also had to be the fittest. Kache is White Fang’s mother. White Fang had to steal food so he can survive. He became a very violent fighter because of the way his masters treated him. They can also adapt easily to new environments. Kache and White Fang are the fittest due to all the characteristics they have.

7/29/2020 

           Isolation means  to be alone . When you isolate you separate from another person. For example, people with Covid-19 have to isolate themselves so they don’t help spread this dangerous disease. Isolation can cause depression. That’s because  staying in a room alone for a long  time without seeing your family or loved ones is a nightmare. If I was in that situation I would be really sad. But some people like to be alone. I’m not one of those people .

           I have to isolate  myself  during this  pandemic so I don’t spread or catch the corona virus .  Isolation now takes a huge  place in my life,  ever since  March when the corona virus hit  hard. Everyone had to  social distance , quarantine and   wear face masks when you go outside. All of these things are  a part of isolation .     

          White Fang spent  most of his time alone . He was isolated often because his  owner would lock him in a tiny cage, but he had a good connection with his mother . But  at the Indian camp the wolf  got separated from his mother . White Fang started attacking the wolf who separated them . White Fang became hated by all the dogs .

Stuffed in that lovely little cigarette box,

Even now, you come to find me,

And still amidst Apollo’s lilac orbs,

The sun falls gray and earthly bows

For you, I sit on wintry fired nights,

With eyes on eyes of anchored velvet

Lacing, whose majesty, all wrought with simple

Splendor waits on dusted streets

where men and women gaze

And are not seen and blindness smells

Complacent as the night

On clouds of funneled admiration for each coming day.

And there I wait for us, scratching at the edge,

But always we remain frozen in the shadows

It comes as a small whimper radiating

from your forearms,

Slow, seductive

Somewhere beneath all ends your shadow dances

cherrybloomed

And dimming

There are streams of churned velvet under our feet

and we unravel

Together in lime figures

The land below us and the land above us laugh

And blur in the opal lilac fields

Here

we learn to bite and gnaw

at the corners and edges

and though the grass

pushes against our lined feet

We break through the parted clouds

And unfurl ourselves into the haze.

by Max Stein-Golenbock ‘08

… Latin Couplet

You never go out with a dirty body, Flaccus:

            I do not wonder why you often stay at home.

Cum foedo excedis numquam tu corpore, Flacce:

            Quid maneas miror non ego saepe domi.

by

Max Stein-Golenbock

by Max Stein-Golenbock 9/3/05

Throughout life, we face challenges and hardships.  From mere bumps in the road to imminent dangers, we all face challenges every day.  It is commonly believed that once we can overcome an obstacle and can make it through the storm, the rest of the way is smooth sailing.  Often, if we courageously confront these obstacles, we can surpass them and never have to worry about them again.  However, occasionally, braving the elements and facing a challenge does not make the situation any easier after that.  For me, this circumstance took place during the Six Flags trip, as the roller coaster, Superman, stood ominously in the distance, flooding my ears with the terrified shrieks of its intrepid riders and quaking the very ground I walked on.  Going on a roller coaster for the first time does not make the next ride any easier.  The news media, the nature of memories and the conditions of the ride itself all contribute to making the next ride just as hard if not harder.

The media influence aids in making the second, third and fourth rides just as distressing as the first.  While it is common knowledge that the media often blows stories out of proportion, their scandalous reports still greatly influence and shape the way people think and act.  It is quite difficult to ignore a story about a death on a roller coaster.  When contemplating whether or not to take on a roller coaster, such depressing and upsetting stories are always resurrected.  Any doubts concerning the true safety of roller coasters, which were nourished and fed by the media, sat, stewing in my mind as I waited to face Superman, wiping the sweat from my clammy palms.  The media gave credibility and real evidence to my worst fears, increasing my stress and apprehension about the ride.

Additionally, the nature of traumatic memories makes the second ride just as harrowing as the first.  It is human nature to feel fear and anxiety before facing a challenge.  The memory of the acute anxiety, which filled my first ride on the massive coaster, loomed in my mind.  Sensory recollections of the first ride, all tainted with the feeling of dread, were vivid and lifelike.  The heavy moistness of the air was pressing against my chest, making my breaths short and raspy; the distant and faintly recognizable aroma of grease battered food was all but lost amidst the sordid smell of sweat and grime.  The intense apprehension and terror of my first experience was magnified in my memory.  The feeling grew and grew until the coaster no longer became just a memory, but a fear-inspiring symbol.  With time, the symbol grew out of proportion, making my next encounter with the ride even harder than the previous.

Finally, Superman’s fear-inspiring atmosphere made the second ride just as if not even more difficult than the first.  Just the thought of the roller coaster built up apprehension and anxiety in me.  As I approached, the coaster stood before me, teetering and wobbling in a jumbled heap of steel.  I was forced to make a conscious decision to enter the gates, within which a massive line had formed.  The dense apprehension amidst the crowd took shape in the form of nervous jittering, fidgeting and chattering.  The air hung heavy with anxiety.  Upon entering the gates, I was filled with doubt and unease as the monstrous coaster roared and shook directly overhead, the sound reverberating through my bones.  This feeling of disquietude did not subside with time, as I moved painfully, slowly through the line until I reached the first step leading up to the top.  A funereal pilgrimage to the summit stood before me: one more step and I would have to commit myself to this demon they called Superman, edging ever closer one step up at a time.  About three quarters of the way up, staring down to the ground, I began to realize that that teetering structure I had gazed upon from ground level was but a shadow of its true self.  This massive creature stood there extending into the clouds like a mythical titan, as I, insignificant and unsubstantial, stood there next to it, shivering with frenzied fear.  When, finally, I reached the top, I was fastened tight in its carriage and the ride began.  The final jolt of anxiety came as the coaster began a slow and tedious climb to the top of the first loop from where it would drop its riders, stealing the air from their mortal lungs and churning their stomachs.  As it slowed for a split second at the pinnacle, all practical concerns dropped from the radar.  All that mattered was getting out of here safe and sound.

Many may attest to the fact that once you “make it over the hump,” it is all downhill after that.  However, in truth, overcoming a certain challenge does not necessarily make the subsequent challenges any easier.  This is true for me in the case of Superman.  My second experience with Superman was just as formidable as the first.  While for most things the first time is unequivocally the hardest, riding Superman only gets harder.  Yet, with each successful ride, I can feel myself edging closer to slaying this beast and conquering my fears.

by Wendy Golenbock

When I was a child, my father would accompany my mother and me to many Broadway shows and other events.  I never thought he liked Broadway musicals or any other outing, because he would spend the entire time watching from Mom to me to Robert to Peter to mom.  He simply enjoyed each of his mishpocha as we enjoyed the shows.  He never seemed to look at the stage and he wore a huge grin as he reveled in our enjoyment.  Mom and I had, and still have, an annoying habit of singing along with the Broadway star, and he was the only one in the universe who thought we were adorable. 

As the Parkinson’s affected Dad’s muscles, his memories were distinct.  He would sit and listen to show tunes for hours and I could envision him remembering our smiles as we loved the shows so very much.  The songs in the background are some of Mom and my favorites, for that is how he would have wanted it—you see our favorites became his favorites, because he loved us so very much.

Mom taught us to call “daddy” in the middle of the night, and so we became equally bonded to both of our parents.  They led cub scouts, and signed us up for oil painting classes, ballet, tap, and tennis lessons, and went on ski trips although neither of them ever skied.  They watched field hockey and baseball, and basketball and feigned interest so well that it wasn’t until we were grown that we realized dad knew absolutely very little about sports, and he watched no professional sports.  

I began reading mystery novels with dad when I was five or six.  The first four syllable word I sounded out was ‘sonofabitch’ strung together as one word.  He read, and we read. 

The things that Dad loved most in the whole world, were his prize possessions, his gems, the jewels of his fleet—his grandchildren Janice, Daniel, Charles, and Max.  He was happiest seated amongst them.  And he watched Janice’s dance, Daniel’s tennis and chess, Charles’ baseball and Max’ soccer with the same love that he watched us enjoy musicals.  During Max’ Bar Mitzvah weekend, Dad watched in rapture as Max score a goal as his school team beat another of its many challengers. 

Dad also loved Jane and Cheryl.  His children had been in their relationships for more than twenty-five years, something we learned from his more than 60 years of marriage. And without a doubt Dad loved Mom, who waited on his every crank.

The best advice I every got from my father I will pass along to his grandchildren.  “If you are about to do something and you are unsure if you should do it, think of me and don’t do it”.  If you are sure of what you are doing then nothing can stop you, but if you are at all unsure, think of Grandpa’s words and don’t do it.

Today when we remember Dad, tell a corny Jewish joke, like number 7.  (We didn’t think # 7 was funny either, but we loved ‘cut velvet’).   Remember that he slurped soup, that he snored like Alfred Hitchcock’s profile, and that he loved his family and his wife.  And he would want you to laugh. 

So, in closing let us remember the famous lines of Myron Cohen or what Dad’s children called ‘joke number four’:

“Jack jumped from the window of his shop last week.” “Really,” the other responds, “Poor Jack — business was so bad he had to commit suicide!” “He didn’t get killed,” the first explains, “He fell on a bundle of returns.” When things get really bad, Jack eludes the arms of his partner and leaps again from the window. As he is falling he passes the windows of the loft below in which he sees two hundred sewing machines busily whirring. He calls up to his startled partner, “Morris, cut velvet!”

Cut velvet. We love you Pop just as you loved Mom and each of us.

by Wendy Golenbock

Our iguana arrived in 1995. He was given to our five year old as a birthday present. The present was part of a challenge in the ‘most obnoxious gift competition’. Can you picture it? I get my friend’s son a drum set, she buys my son a karaoke set, I get her son a Ninja turtles toy off the recalled Xmas list, and finally she purchases my son an iguana replete with two hundred dollars worth of heating lamps and hot rocks. Clearly, hands down she won. She told me that she got absolutely every accessory to keep me out of the store and unable to return the animal.  One week later, when the iguana became “toilet” trained in a pan in the shower, I was hooked. My two dogs and three cats were older and very disinterested in my iguana. My birds took no notice. My son, Max, was captivated and named the green monster, Tommy, after Power Ranger hero Tommy, who not incidentally was the GREEN ranger. Bright boy, that five year old. He told us he chose the iguana over the tarantula, figuring that we would draw the line at spider ownership. In the past eight years, the iguana has wandered the house without worry. In the fall and winter, the last of the elderly pets went to pet heaven. The acquisition of rescue cat, Feng Shui, and insane puppy, Alfa Betty (named for the screen writer of Mel Brooks’ the Producers) brought chaos to all especially Tommy, who is less than thrilled by being accosted every time she leaves her cage. Both kitty and puppy are enthralled by Tommy and want to play tag with her-Tommy turned out to be female. Tommy wants to swat the babies and hides more quickly than before the baby invasion. Max, at thirteen, is fabulous with his brood- playing ‘dog food soccer’ with the cat, running with his new puppy and bathing his iguana. We were very surprised that the kitty was so fascinated by the iguana as our elderly cats were totally disinterested. Now when Tommy wanders Feng is outdoors. When Feng comes inside, Tommy goes straight to the cage for the safety of both of them. While I had hoped that Feng would be an indoor cat, she didn’t agree, and as a side benefit, she exercises the puppy for me. Oh, and Feng still licks her lips when she gazes at the parakeet, Peppermint, who will never be able to fly around the living room as her predecessor did.