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Loving vs. USA ♥️

6/10/2020

3 Comments

 
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When love was a crime in the US
 
Mildred and Richard Loving were woken up abruptly in the early morning hours of July 11, 1958. 
 
Someone was in their bedroom, standing menacingly over the bed. The couple, sharing their marital bed in their own home in Central Point, Virginia, reached for their clothing, at first thinking the interloper was a burglar.
 
“Get up!” the voice barked, training a powerful flashlight in their eyes. “Y'all both under arrest.”
 
“What did we do?” Richard protested, shielding his wife.
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The officer explained the crime they were being charged with and ordered them to dress and get out of bed. But Richard and Mildred explained that it all must be a big mistake. She pointed to their marriage certificate, hanging in a frame on the wall.
 
“That ain’t valid in Virginia!” the officer spat, marching them out of their house in handcuffs and placing them in a waiting squad car.
 
The young couple was transported down to the local station, where they were booked and charged with Sections 20-58 and 20–59 of the Virginia Code and thrown in the same cells that were used to house hardened criminals. 
 
They soon found out that the police raided their home in those early morning hours based on an anonymous tip. Hurling insults and racial epitaphs at them, they learned that the police hoped to catch them in the act of having sex, since that would have brought additional criminal charges.

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So, what was the Lovings’ crime? 
 
They were married and happened to be an interracial couple. 
 
Since Richard was white and Mildred was “colored” as it was called in those days – a mix of black and Native American - that was enough for the police to lock them up in Virginia.
 
In fact, Section 20-58 of the Virginia Code made it a crime for couples of different races to be married (referred to as ‘miscegenation’) out of state and then return to Virginia. 
 
And Section 20–59 classified miscegenation as a felony offense, which came of a prison sentence of one to five years.

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Richard + Mildred; young and in love
 
Mildred Delores Loving was born July 22, 1939 there in Virginia. Ironically, there may be some confusion as to her racial origins. 
 
During her drawn-out legal nightmare, she identified as African American (or black or “colored” in those days).

​But the night she was arrested, she told the police that she was “Indian” and later on, claimed to be Indian-Rappahannock. However, she may have denied being partially black to try to deflect the charges, since the intent of these laws left over from the Jim Crow era was to separate African Americans and whites.
 
We do know that she was a soft-spoken, gentle, and a pretty woman, growing up in the same small Virginia community of Caroline County where she eventually met her husband, Richard Loving.
 
Richard, born October 29, 1933, came from a family that owned seven slaves according to the 1830 census, and his grandfather, T. P. Farmer, fought for the Confederates in the Civil War.
 
But in their small community, there was more racial harmony and mixing than we might guess. 

“There’s just a few people that live in this community,” Richard described, who looked like the typical young southern white in those days with a blond crew cut. “A few white and a few colored. And as I grew up, and as they grew up, we all helped one another. It was all, as I say, mixed together to start with and just kept goin’ that way.” 
 
In fact, Richard's father was a loyal 25-year employee of one of the wealthiest black men in the U.S. at the time, and a lot of Richard’s best friends were black or racially mixed, including Mildred’s older brothers.
 
Either way, Richard and Mildred met in high school and quickly fell in love, becoming inseparable. When Mildred became pregnant at the age of 18, Richard even moved into her family home.
 
Knowing full well that it was illegal for them to marry in Caroline County due to Virginia's Racial Integrity Act, the young couple traveled to Washington, D.C. where they could legally marry. 
 
They came back to Virginia several times to visit family in Central Point, and it was during one of those visits in 1958 when the police barged into their bedroom in the wee hours and arrested them.

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Good ‘ole fashioned southern racism
 
The racial climate in Virginia was all-too-typical in those days. In fact, out of all 50 states, only nine did nothave a law against interracial marriage at some point. And by the 1950s, the majority of U.S. states (and every single state in the south) had a law against miscegenation. 
 
There had been laws against racial mixing or marriage all the way back to the colonial era, which were renewed during Jim Crow. Most of the laws focused on keeping black men away from white women. The rape of black women by white slave owners or men was commonplace, leading to the "one drop of blood" rule (if someone had even one drop of African American blood, they were considered black in the eyes of the law).
 
But those laws were far less barbaric than trial-by-mob, as black men were frequently attacked or lynched for even talking to a white woman.
 
The law and courts held no refuge nor justice. The case of Pace v. Alabama in 1883 went all the way to the Supreme Court, where an Alabama law against anti-miscegenation was deemed fully constitutional. 
 
And in 1888, the Supreme Court ruled that states had the legal authority to prohibit or regulate marriage based on race.
 
In Virginia, that was codified in 1924 with the Act to Preserve Racial Integrity, with violators facing a prison sentence of one to five years in the state penitentiary.
 
By the time the Lovings were pulled out of their bed and arrested, 16 states still had anti-miscegenation laws on their books – most of them in the south.

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From jail to a Kennedy’s help
 
Sitting in jail and with no resources or recourse to fight the charges, the Lovings both pleaded guilty on January 6, 1959. Their crime was officially documented as "cohabiting as man and wife, against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth.”
 
Per the Act to Preserve Racial Integrity, they were sentenced to one year in state prison, but the sentence was suspended when they agreed to leave the state of Virginia and not return.
 
Happy to evade a prison term but sad to leave the community and people they grew up with, the Lovings fled to the District of Columbia, settling into a D.C. ghetto. They were poor but lived in peace, and raised their three children, Sidney, Donald, and Peggy, there.
 
But they had increasing financial difficulties and missed their home and families. When one of their sons was struck by a car in the streets of D.C. (he lived and recovered), a frustrated Mildred wrote a letter to the young Attorney General of the United States, who she thought may be sympathetic. In the letter, she documented the Lovings' plight.
 
She never expected to receive a reply, but she did hear back from that Attorney General - Robert F. Kennedy. Of course, Robert’s brother had been the progressive President John F. Kennedy, Jr, who had been assassinated a few years earlier in 1963.
 
Robert Kennedy connected Mildred with the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), who agreed to take on her case.



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All the way to the steps of the Supreme Court
 
The ACLU assigned two volunteer attorneys, Bernard S. Cohen and Philip J. Hirschkop, to the Lovings' case. They filed a motion to vacate the criminal judgments in Virginia’s Caroline County Circuit Court, stating that the Act to Preserve Racial Integrity violated the Fourteenth Amendment's Equal Protection Clause.
 
After nearly a year of waiting with no progress, the pair of ACLU attorneys filed a class-action suit in the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia.
 
After hearing the case, Judge Leon M. Bazile ruled against the Lovings, including this statement:
 
“Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix.”
 
The ACLU appealed Judge Bazile’s decision in the Virginia Supreme Court on the grounds that it violated the constitution. However, in 1965, Justice Harry L. Carrico wrote an opinion for the court that upheld the constitutional legality of anti-miscegenation laws.
 
Finally, the Lovings and the ACLU appealed the decision to the U.S. Supreme Court, Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1. While Mildred and Richard were not in attendance as their lawyers made oral arguments on their behalf, Bernard S. Cohen passed on a message from Richard Loving: "Tell the Court I love my wife, and it is just unfair that I can't live with her in Virginia."
 
On June 12, 1967, the United States Supreme Court came back with their ruling. With a unanimous 9-0 vote, the highest court in the land overturned the Virginia criminal conviction and deemed anti-miscegenation laws unconstitutional. 
 
The Supreme Court opinion, written by Chief Justice Earl Warren, struck down any laws regulating interracial marriage since they violated Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

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Life after their landmark case
 
At least on a federal level, it was no longer illegal for racially-mixed men and women to marry, thanks to the Lovings and their attorneys. 
 
The landmark case was one of the most significant civil rights wins to date in the United States, at a time when civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated the very next year.
 
I wish I could tell you that the Supreme Court ruling changed things, rooting out racism in U.S. society, but we know that's not the case. Despite the Supreme Court ruling, many states resisted, begrudgingly changing their laws against interracial marriage – if at all.
 
In fact, Alabama was the last state to accept the Loving vs. Virginia ruling, not removing its anti-miscegenation laws until 2000. 
 
That’s not a typo; it was still technically illegal for people of different races to marry in Alabama only 20 short years ago.

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The Loving legacy
 
In the movies, the courageous defendants stand proudly in the Supreme Court alongside their lawyers. But in real life, it rarely works that way.
 
Instead, the Lovings lived on a quiet farm in Virginia during much of the prolonged legal battle, trying to stay out of sight (to avoid the media as well as a safety precaution). But after the Supreme Court decision, they moved the family back to Central Point, where Richard built a small house and they raised their children in relative peace.
 
In 1975, Richard was killed when he was hit by a drunk driver while driving in Caroline County, Virginia. He was only 41.
 
Mildred was in the car with him and lost her right eye in the accident but lived. She passed in 2008 of pneumonia in her home in Central Point at the age of 68.
 
We’re not sure if Richard and Mildred fully realized the societal and cultural shift they’d started. Over the decades, their story has been the subject of several songs and three movies, including Loving, which debuted at the 2016 Cannes Film Festival.
 
Their case also served as a precedent for other civil rights cases since, including Obergefell v. Hodges, a landmark 2015 Supreme Court decision that lifted restrictions on same-sex marriage.
 
In 2014, Mildred was honored posthumously as one of "Virginia’s Women in History,” and in 2017, a historical marker was dedicated to her in front of the building that formerly housed the Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals.


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Making the term ‘interracial” obsolete
 
Back in the 1960s, 0.4% of all U.S. marriages were between interracial couples. By 1980, that number had increased to 3.2% of all marriages, and then to 8.4% in 2010. 
 
Today, about 19% of all newlywed marriages are between interracial couples, or almost 1 in every 5.
 
By 2050, there will be so many multi-racial people that the vast majority of marriages could be considered interracial, although we probably won't even bother keeping track of that statistic anymore.
 
To recognize the sacrifice and plight of Richard, Mildred, and many others like them, June 12th – the day of their Supreme Court decision - has been designated Loving Day in the United States.
 
-Norm  :-)

P.S. Thank you for sharing so we can try to spread some positivity and understanding.
 
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This blog is dedicated to my old friend, Kyle McGee, who taught me so much.

3 Comments

10 Things to feel ridiculously, gleefully, unabashedly hopeful about

4/17/2020

21 Comments

 
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Whoa. 
 
That’s the feeling we get every time we turn on the news or check social media these days, as things seem to keep getting worse.
 
It’s hard NOT to feel down, depressed, and despondent during these unprecedented times, with millions of people sick, thousands dying, and the whole economy shut down. 
 
There seems to be no quick solution or even solid answers, and it sure feels like the average person has been left to his or her own devices.
 
It’s all too much.
 
Then again, in those rare occasions that I'm able to throw the covers off and actually get out of bed, put down my third bowl of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch (note: I highly recommend it), or stop walking in circles around the house like a zombie, I realize that maybe things aren’t completely hopeless.
 
In fact, the sun is shining. I’m blessed to still have a roof over my head and food on the table, and the ability to control my own destiny, no matter how difficult that task may seem.
 
As usual, things may not be quite as bad as they seem. 
 
I can hit you with rosy platitudes like “It’s always darkest before the dawn,” or even start singing “Don’t worry; be happy,” but I’m not going to minimize what we’re up against (and you don’t want to hear my singing!).
 
Furthermore, intangibles and Trumpian double-speak do us no good at this point. We need some real and substantial cornerstones that make us feel optimistic about coming days.
 
So, here are 10 things to feel ridiculously, gleefully, unabashedly hopeful about:

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1.  Animal shelters are emptying That's great news if you're a pet lover, as people are adopting and rescuing dogs, cats, and other lovable critters at a record rate. In fact, some dog shelters have posted videos lately, showing that they're completely empty! It turns out, we all want a lovable four-legged friend at home to keep us company.

​(My dog, Pupperoni, is patiently waiting for me to return to the Philippines or I'd adopt five more here in Connecticut!)


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2.  The words ‘neighbor’ and ‘community’ mean something again
During good times, we were all a little guilty of fortifying ourselves in our McMansions and going about our own business.

​But now, people are more interested in helping, supporting, and just getting to know those around them again. We're sitting on our front porches and saying hi, making meals for seniors, and giving away things we used to try to sell. Young people, especially, are stepping up and showing character.


Isn’t it ironic that we’re more isolated than ever but feel a new sense of communal and civic pride?

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3.  Mom-n-Pop businesses are getting love
I don’t know about you, but I’m loving the rejuvenated relationship we have with local restaurants, Mom-n-Pop stores, and neighborhood businesses that are still operating. It seems like we appreciate them more than ever, and we’re actively supporting them with our dollars, (our stomachs), and by spreading the word. 
 
Think about when this is over; will you head to Chilis or Bed, Bath, and Beyond?! No! You’ll run to a local or Mom-n-Pop business to eat, drink, and shop to your heart’s content!

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4.  In some ways, we're becoming more human
As we traverse this storm of suffering with no relief in sight, I've noticed that people are becoming more human again. I liken it to the days after 9/11, when everyone waved and said hello, held the door open for each other, and generally remembered that we share the planet with others.

In fact, charity donations and volunteerism have skyrocketed already during this crisis, a heartwarming trend I expect to continue. 

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5.  We have time again​
Are we finally stopping to smell the roses? Looks like it, as we finally have a moment to pause, breathe, and not be rushed every minute of every day.

​Sure, we're bored, but our family dinners have become longer, we're talking to friends and family more than ever (even if it's virtually), and we're dusting off long-forgotten hobbies and passions. We're taking bike rides, doing yoga, learning (online) and reading, and taking walks with our kids every sunset. There may not be too many silver linings to these challenging times, but the fact that we can hit pause on the world for a moment is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.

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6.  People are getting their priorities straight
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Although what’s to come will be extremely painful, we also are recalibrating our priorities, which will have a positive effect for the rest of our lives. All of a sudden, we are filled with appreciation just to have a hot meal, the chance to talk to an old friend, or when we get to hug our family safely every night. And just being healthy for another day feels like an enormous blessing.
 
Maybe we needed a little wake-up call? 

Well, this is it, and many of us are already listening, focusing on simplifying our lives and living with newfound gratitude.

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7.    Nature is our saving grace!
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My anxiety (ok, abject panic!) often rises to a boiling point when I stay inside to work, watch the news, or scroll through social media. Then, I step outside, and everything feels better. 

Even a few minutes out in my backyard or at the local park reminds me that some of the best things in life are the fresh air (allergy season notwithstanding), blue skies, blooming flowers, and wild animals. 
 
Many of us are lucky enough to experience nature in one way or another, and the planet even seems to be healing itself a little with less pollution and more space for wildlife to roam again.

A lot of people around the world (more US people will start doing this if they're smart) are even starting to plant home gardens and grow their own food. Clean energy may even become more sustainable through all this. Hell, maybe there is just a spark of hope for the planet? 

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8.  We have a new appreciation for the little people (who, it turns out, were never little at all!)
We'll look back at these dark days and remember the heroes, new leaders, and regular people who exhibited remarkable courage and sacrifice. We all have a new appreciation for teachers, police officers, first responders, doctors and nurses, bus drivers, grocery store workers, social workers, and all sorts of other extraordinary humans that sometimes go unappreciated. 
 
I'm sure you've seen the videos of New Yorkers applauding and cheering their local healthcare workers during the nightly 7 pm shift change. I propose that we keep that tradition alive after this is all over – and expand it to show love and respect for a whole lot more "little people" who are huge in our lives.

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9.  Change is coming
Just a few weeks ago, the world we live in now would be inconceivable.

(Would you ever imagine that you're required to wear a mask when walking into a bank?!)

Absolutely everything has changed, and we're still trying to wrap our collective psyche around that. 

There will be pain and suffering to come; there's no avoiding it. But this grandest of transformations will also bring a chance to reinvent just about every aspect of our society - and even the human experience.  We are blessed and cursed with the responsibility of rebuilding our world, and no one knows exactly what that look like except that it will be new.

Change is inevitable as it is imminent. It's now the age of rebirth for activists, artists, healers, designers, dreamers, teachers, empaths, environmentalists, inventors, underdogs, outcasts,  leaders, and, especially the youth, as we've turned this world into a fuster cluck and it's time to let the next 

The meek may just inherit the earth, after all...and I'm hopeful that they'll take far better care of it than we ever did.

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10.  People are ready to start living again 
Psychologists outline a process that we go through whenever we suffer a grave loss or tragedy, with stages from shock to denial, anger, bargaining, depression, reconciliation, and then, acceptance. 
 
I don't know about you, but I think they're missing a couple of stages like, "Wearing the same sweatpants for 72 hours" and "Drinking wine at 10 am while holding a full conversation with the mailbox."
 
But there will be an eighth stage at the end of all this: Ready.
 
People will be ready:
Ready to work.
Ready to rebuild.
Ready to experience.
Ready to learn.

Ready to heal.
Ready to give.
Ready to connect.
Ready to love without censor or fear.
 
Very soon, we’ll be ready to LIVE again!
 
That alone is something to feel incredibly hopeful about, and I think it’s coming sooner than we may realize.
 
Trust me when I tell you; You’ll want to be around for the dancing in the streets after these dark days are over!

-Norm  :-)

PS If you found this helpful or uplifting at all, can you please do me a favor and share it on social media? Thanks a billion!

21 Comments

The difficult and dangerous journey of school children around the world. 

7/24/2016

3725 Comments

 
​An easy ride to school every morning for our kids is something that we often take for granted, but many children in poor nations around the world don't have the same luxury. In fact, there are about 60 million kids around the globe that don't get to attend school at all every year, and many more drop out after only a few years.

The challenges are often economic, as families need their children working to feed everyone or can't afford books, tuition, and school clothes, etc., but sometimes, geography gets in the way, too. According to UNESCO, children living in a rural environment are twice as likely to be out of school than urban children, and when you add in jagged mountains, isolated valleys, raging rivers, and flooding in the monsoon season, it can be almost impossible for some kids to get to school.

ALMOST impossible. As they 25 examples in photos will demonstrate, some kids will do just about anything to get to school, risking their very lives just to get an education because they know it's their only chance at a better life.

We can all draw inspiration from their sacrifice and dedication, and the next time your kids complain about getting on the school bus, just show them this blog!

With love,
Norm  :-)

PS Contact me if you're interested in helping kids like these and others around the world get an education. 
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​These kids have a perilous journey to the remote school in the world in Gulu, China, following a 1-foot wide path for five hours through the mountains just for the opportunity to learn.
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​When the Ulnas River in Western India floods every monsoon season, some school kids need to walk a tightrope to get to the other bank of the river and on  to school while other ingenious scholars get creative with their transportation!
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​There are no school buses in this rural province in Myanmar, so this resourceful girl hitches a ride on a bull to get to her classroom every morning!
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​In Nepal, the mountainous landscape makes travel difficult, or sometimes impossible. But undeterred, these school kids ride a sitting zip line over a river to school every day.
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This Palestinian girl lives in a refugee camp in Shuafat, near Jerusalem, and when Israeli forces clash with Palestinians in the streets, she has to walk right through them to get to school.
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In Lebak, Indonesia, school children can either walk four hours out of their way or take their chances crossing the river on an old suspension bridge that’s literally falling apart.
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A chance to go to school is worth a wild ride outside Bogota, Columbia, as these youngsters have to cross the raging Rio Negro River on a half-mile steel cable high above the waters. Attached by a pulley, she travels at up to 50 mph for a minute and can only slow down using this tree branch as a brake! Even crazier, she’s actually carrying her younger brother in the sack!
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In the rainy season in Rizal Province, Philippines, youngsters in search of knowledge take a ride across the river on inflated inner tubes every day. 
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These kids have to traverse these treacherous mountains for 125 miles to get to their boarding school Pili, China every term. With the help of the headmaster, the journey takes two days and includes wading through four freezing rivers, crossing a 650 ft chain bridge and four single-plank bridges. 
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It takes a lot of focus to keep their bicycle from falling off this foot-wide plank bridge in Java, Indonesia, but it’s a shortcut that saves at least 4 miles on the way to school every day.
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With the help of their teacher, these schoolgirls get across the wall of the 16th century Galle Fort in Sri Lanka on a flimsy wooden plank.
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To get from their remote island to the nearest school on the mainland in Pangururan, Indonesia, these children pile onto the roof of this boat every morning and afternoon.
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Likewise, these kids in beautiful and lush Kerala, India ride to school in a wooden boat every day.
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When the bridge over the Ciherang River in Indonesia went out during flooding a few years ago, the village children had no way to get across and attend school…until they started floating to the other shore daily on makeshift bamboo rafts. 
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But these elementary school students in Vietnam don’t even have a raft to cross the river to their schoolroom, so twice a day they take off their school clothes, putting them in a bag to try and keep them dry, and swim across the deep rapids.
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The region around the village of Mawsynram in India is one of the wettest places on earth, with an average of 467 inches of rain each year. Due to the high precipitation and humidity, wood bridges will rot quickly, but the locals have trained the roots of these rubber trees to join and grow over the river, forming a natural and safe living bridge for the kids to cross to school every day. 
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These pupils have a beautiful but difficult canoe ride every morning through the mangrove swamps o to their school in Riau, Indonesia. 
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It takes the 20 intrepid pupils of Batu Busuk Village in Sumatra, Indonesia hours hours to walk the seven mile route to school, culminating with a dodgy tightrope traverse 30 feet over the river.
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These kids from Zhang Jiawan Village in Southern China have to climb hundreds of feet up a sheer cliff on these dangerous unsecured ladders to get to their classroom.
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Crossing this dilapidated and icy bridge in Dujiangyan, Sichuan Province, China, this mother and daughter risk their lives for her education.
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A ride to school is a precious thing since it helps avoid a long, hot walk, so these well-dressed scholars pack onto a horse cart in Delhi, India. 
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During the monsoon season in many Southeast Asian countries like Cambodia, the rains flood the countryside and city alike, often cancelling classes if kids can’t find a way to wade, swim, float, or boat to their school.
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Floods won’t even stop the children from bicycling to school, though it’s dangerous because they have no idea where the road is beneath the waters.
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At that point, getting the young ones safely to school could be a whole family affair. They'll do anything to give their children a better life!
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3725 Comments

My charity BUGraiser in Cambodia (Yes, I really ate all of these crazy insects!)

4/4/2016

0 Comments

 

You've seen a lot of fundraisers before, but have you ever experienced a BUGraiser?

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Watch me eat these beetles, crickets, roaches, frogs, larvae, and a bunch of unidentifiable critters from a street stall in Phnom Penh, Cambodia - all for a good cause to raise money for several amazing charities! 

If you got a kick out of this video PLEASE consider donating $100, $25, or even $10 to the charities I introduce below, Connecting Hands, Willow Tree Roots, and the Children's Improvement Organization. These are all charities I personally help out and see first hand the work they do to better a lot of lives.

Thanks - and get ready to be grossed out!


-Norm  :-)


To donate, just click on the PayPal link below and tell me which charity you'd like to help.
​It's quick, easy, safe, and I'll make sure the money gets to the appropriate charity and you get a receipt.
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Visiting an orphanage in the Philippines with a donation of toys, food, and school supplies in hand.

5/13/2015

4 Comments

 
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I’m wrapping up my 6-month stay in southeast Asia in the Philippines, a familiar place with old friends since I’ve been coming here since 1999. With the help one of those local buddies, I set out to find an orphanage where I could be of assistance. Every country I visit, I try to do something to connect with the humble people in need, which is a great way to experience the real culture, say thank you for being my gracious host, and hopefully leave it a little better than I found it.

We found an orphanage in the Malabanias neighborhood, tucked in a local neighborhood in between colorful markets and surprisingly nice western apartments. Our trike drivers helped us carry the shopping bags and boxes into the orphanage.

They greeted us at the gate since they knew we were coming, having visited once before to scout it out and make sure they were a good and worthy organization. A couple of the older children led us back into the main courtyard, a roofed in open area with a basketball hoop and plastic tables where they ate meals, communed, and spent most of their time. On the way, I noticed that the floors were all wet, freshly scrubbed to honor our arrival.
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The Duyan Ni Maria orphanage, or Children’s Home, is run by an order of nuns, the Sisters of Mary of the Eucharist. They take care of 49 children currently, all the way from a 2-year old baby to older kids of college age. They revealed that their focus is keeping these kids off the street and giving them access to a good education and job skills, as the only other alternatives waiting for them are homelessness, drugs, begging, prostitution, and too many unwanted teen pregnancies.
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The children were busy playing at the small playground set up in the dirt, partially shaded from the brutal sun. I walked over and said hi to them, pushing them on the swing set and taking a few photos. A pair of twin girls with bowl haircuts posed for the camera, while another little girl tugged on my arm, showing me a photograph she carried of a little boy. Through a translator, because the kids spoke more Filipino than English, she explained that the boy in the photo was her little boyfriend, so she carried it everywhere. She wanted me to snap a picture of her holding the photograph of her boyfriend, which I gladly did while laughing. 
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Together with the nice ladies who worked there and even the trike drivers, we unpacked all of our donations, including 60 hamburgers and soda from Jollibees, a popular fast food chain here. The children were called over for lunch and they each came up to me to say hello, first taking my hand and touching it to their foreheads in the traditional sign of respect for elders.
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The children filled up the green picnic tables and then made a formation of plastic chairs, since there were only enough tables to fit about half of them at a time. I walked around with the box of burgers and served them, the teenage girls the hungriest, grabbing two burgers each. 
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Everyone dug in and ate, even the elderly nun who kept thanking me, one of the kindest and most warm-hearted people I've ever met. During lunch I chased around a chicken that walked freely around the orphanage, though the children thought I was crazy for taking its photo.
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After the children were done eating and scooping up seconds, we set out all of the donations on a couple tables in front of their chalkboard. We had notebooks, drawing paper, pens, crayons, and tons of different toys – rubber basketballs, dolls, toy stethoscope and doctors kits, jump ropes, bubble makers, airplanes and trucks, miniature billiards sets, plastic bowling pins and balls, painting kits, and miniature toy animals and dinosaurs – but no toy guns, at the orphanage’s request.

We took a couple of group photos with the kids in front of the donated items, and to my surprise, they sang a minute-long thank you song with warm smiles and angelic voices. After the song was over, they just stood there, unsure of what to do because they weren’t used to having material possessions yet alone getting gifts, and were all too respectful to touch things.

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 But after I encouraged them to go ahead and dig into their new stuff, they grabbed toys in a flurry of activity, laughter, and a few tug of wars over their favorite toys – one of the most joyful sights I’ve ever witnessed.
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It’s a constant struggle for this orphanage to stay open and provide for the kids, and hamburgers and a few toys do a lot more to make the giver feel good than it makes a real impact in their lives. But as they waved goodbye to us, yelling thank you with big smiles, at least they knew that someone cared.

Walking out to the trike, I stopped and snapped a photo of something that broke my heart. A big bookshelf in the hall served as the toy chest for the entire orphanage up to that point. It contained a dozen or so ratty and dirty stuffed animals, nothing else. If nothing else, at least those shelves will be full now!


- Norm   :-)

P.S. I don’t write these blogs to try and raise funds, because it’s up to you what you do with your money and how and when you give. More than anything, I just love sharing the experiences and the people that have enriched my life. But already a few friends –from both the United States and the Philippines – have made donations to the orphanage, which I really appreciate. But believe me, you don’t want me to sing you a thank you song – we’ll leave that to the kids!

If you’d like to help these kids, please contact them or send any donations to:
Duyan Ni Maria Children’s Home
Administered by Sisters of Mary of the Eucharist
359 Leticia St. Josefa Subdivision, BRGY, Malabanias,
Angeles City, The Philippines.

Or contact me if you’d like me to bring them something personally or help arrange the donation.

4 Comments

They get by with a little help from my friends.

3/28/2015

2 Comments

 
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"Hi Norm. I saw your photos and read your blog about helping the children in Cambodia. I know we've never met, but I'd like to send you some money to give to them, too."

You'd be amazed how often I get Facebook messages or emails along those lines. Hell, I'm still amazed every time someone reaches out to me and wants to give. I mean, since my focus the last couple of years has been on trying to make this world just a tiny bit better through my writing, I've received so much support from my friends it's crazy.

I guess "crazy" is a good word for it, for what else could you call sending your hard-earned dollars all the way across the world to come to the aid of people you've never met in countries you'll never set foot in? And many of you have never even met me, the instigator of this whole experience. Sure, I've broken bread (and drank beer) with many of you, but some are friends of friends, have read my books or blogs, or we don't even remember how we first connected, but we've never had the pleasure to say hi face-to-face. For all you know, I could be squandering your money by dining on escargot with champagne every night, staying at resorts that have 1,000,000 thread-count sheets, and purchasing luxurious hair care products...ok, the hair care product part is off the table, but you know what I mean.

Either way, you're trusting ME with your money because you care so much about perfect strangers in need. You have empathy for those you can't see or touch, and that's a rare and beautiful thing. Believe me, I treasure that trust and try to live up to it every day. 

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Last week, I posted some photos of a poor hospital I visited here in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia, where I went with my friend-in-charity Cowboy Bart to help a young woman who was the victim of an acid attack, and others. Tragically, she passed away in the ICU the very next day, but the photos and blog stirred a handful of you to reach out and PayPal some donations over for me to distribute to others in need.

So back at it, Cowboy Bart and I rode a tuk tuk out to the Soviet Friendship Hospital in Phnom Penh on a scorching Friday afternoon. I was armed with a pocket full of $10 and $20 bills to give out to people I found in need, with the help of Siman - our Cambodian tuk tuk driver - acting as translator. 
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In desperately poor Cambodia, there is no free healthcare or any sort of governmental social safety net. Hospitals are archaic, ridiculously understaffed, and they lack even many of the basic resources, medicines, and technology even the most humble hospitals in the United States enjoy. I'm sure you can guess who built the Soviet Friendship Hospital, a monstrous boxy compound with open-air buildings around an overgrown grassy area. When someone gets sick and needs to go to the hospital, usually on a very long journey from far-off provinces on the public bus, their family needs to bring them there. Of course they can't afford a hotel while they wait out the treatment of their loved one, so the whole family moves into the hospital with the patient. 

Some of them sleep right outdoors in the bush, hoping for the shade of a palm tree. They cook their food over wood fires and hang their laundry their to dry. Many others share the hospital bed with their loved one, sleep on the floor on bamboo matts or on the bare floor near them, or camp out in the hallways and stairwells, for days, weeks, or even months. If they're lucky, they'll have enough food, though most drink dirty water out of the hose bib and live off of rice and slices of mango. A big 30 lbs. bacg of rice, which costs about $20, can keep a couple people alive for a month if need be. 

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Bart and Siman led us upstairs to the oncology ward first, to visit a child with a horrible tumor on his eye they were already helping. It was difficult for me to walk into the patient rooms - a jumble of hospital beds and bodies swirled in heat. Rooms that were designed for 2 beds had 7, and rooms meant for 4 beds had 10 or more. The beds were ripped and stained, sheetless unless the families brought their own. People slept in silence except for a few moans of pain and discomfort. There was no air conditioning so people tried not to move and hoped to catch the breeze of a fan.
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But they lit up when we walked in, eyes peeled and big smiles for the unheard of occurrence of a Barang (foreigner) coming into the hospital unless they worked for a nonprofit or were part of a medical mission. Bart and Siman visited with the toddler with eye cancer and talked to his mother. Bart remarked that the boy looked much better and the tumor had shrunk significantly. They gave them some money to help pay for food and the treatments they couldn't afford at the hospital. 

While they chatted, I walked around the room, saying hello and visiting with the other sick children in the room. Of course I couldn't communicate with them other than bowing and saying "sus-day" - hello in the Khmer (Cambodian) language - or "sok-sa-bay" - wishing them good health. But it's amazing how much you can say just with your eyes and smile and a well-timed thumbs-up.
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As I met the other patients and their families in the big white room, I called Siman over to translate at times. No one was alone - everyone had family with them. I noticed that they didn't see it as a burden to help their sick loved ones. A daughters massaged her grandmother's back to ease her pain. Mothers fanned the flies away from their sleeping children. An elderly Khmer woman, nearly skeletal in her only outfit of pajamas, mustered unimaginable strength to tend to her dying husband of all these years.

Their custom is to take a photo of someone handing them the gift, so they started to sit up their sick and sleeping loved ones. But I told them to just let them be - it wasn't necessary for me to be in the photos. Let the children and sick and elderly, who could barely open their eyes to see us, sleep in peace.

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In the sick rooms, no one asked me for money, but most received a donation of $10 or $20 - an unexpected gift that would go a long way. I'd visited the money changer earlier to break my $100's from the ATM into smaller bills so it would be easier to give out. These were the donations from my friends - from you. 
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We went room to room and toured the hospital. One doctor rushed by without questioning us, but other than that we rarely saw anyone who worked there. No one questioned us and we passed through without scrutiny. Khmer people are so proud and routinely endure hardships we can't even imagine, yet never complain. They know that is what there life will be and don't expect otherwise. But they are passionately dedicated to their loved ones and extended families. No one came out and asked for money, but a sick family member's caretaker would join their hands and give a slight bow in the sign of greeting or Buddhist prayer, inviting us to come over and visit. They introduced us to their ailing loved one. 
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And they are appreciative. The looks of gratitude on their faces will be with me forever. It wasn't just the money, though I know that completely changed their outlook. But there was another commodity, just as important, that were were sharing that day: hope. They knew someone cared about them. Incredibly wealthy and privileged strangers from a far-off heavenly country took the time to come say hello and help them. I've learned that to acknowledge someone as a human being, with respect and equality in your heart, is the biggest gift you can give. 

Stomach problems, children with cancerous tumors, accident victims, and so many more that were key diagnosed, who waited patiently sleeping in the halls and floors of the hospital waiting for a glimmer of hope. Folding leather stretchers - discarded donations from war times, and tolling medical trays stood sentry among the silent people, a few syringes, vials, and empty pill boxes the scattered evidence that there was little that could be done. 

There were many families and sick people who couldn't get a bed, a room, or even inside the cool hallways of the hospital to stay. They camped outside on the patio, the fiery afternoon sun beating down on them. A ingenious teen girl with a bright smile hung a bedsheets from an IV stand to shield her sister, who had been in a bad motorcycle accident in the province, from the heat. 
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On our way out, we wandered through many wards of the hospital: those dedicated to those suffering from malnutrition, diarrhea, the ICU, and finally, a pleasant surprise - the neonatal unit. It was shocking that we could just walk in and there were not even glass barriers or germ-free sanitized environments to protect the premature babies. But their mothers stood watch over them,  loving for their newborns with visions of angelic perfection that only mothers can see. Each mother called us over with a big smile so she could proudly show off her baby.
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My pockets empty, we had made the rounds and it was time to go for the day. The hardest part was that I had money to some people but not to others. But if I had just started passing it out to everyone I encountered, the money wouldn't have last two hospital rooms. So I tried to focus on children and those who looked really hungry or sick in the poorest parts of the hospital. 

I was no doctor and I wasn't arrogant enough to think I knew them or their stories just by looking, so it made my heart ache to know that I would leave so many suffering. 

But I reminded myself that these people had problems before I arrived and would have problems long after I left. And there were billions more I never could reach, even if I worked tirelessly the rest of my life. But these people weren't thinking of it like that. They weren't expecting anyone to solve their problems. The money I had given them - your donations - had made a huge difference for them today. The hungry would eat. They could pay for medicine. A doctor's visit. A needed bus ticket. Get a bed instead of the floor. Or buy a small fan.
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It wasn't fixed; it wasn't right; it still didn't make sense; but it was better. Better. That's a good way of thinking of it. You, my friends, had made things better for these people, and that's a hell of a good thing. And if they could speak to you they would say, "Thank you." And you'd feel it even more than you heard it. Trust me on that. 

- Norm   :-)

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    Norm Schriever

    Norm Schriever is a best-selling author, expat, cultural mad scientist, and enemy of the comfort zone. He travels the globe, telling the stories of the people he finds, and hopes to make the world a little bit better place with his words.   

    Norm is a professional blogger, digital marketer for smart brands around the world,  and writes for the Huffington Post, Hotels.com, and others.

    Check out South of Normal his Amazon.com best-selling book about life as an expat in Tamarindo, Costa Rica.

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