In Memory of Teacher Bian Zhongyun, Murdered by Her Students, August 5, 1966

Anyone with information on the identity of those involved in the murder of Bian Zongyun, please email at PUBLOCC@gmail.com

China's Warning to France

Stereotypes get their force because they are based in at least partial truth.  The joke about European heaven being a place where the French are the cooks and the Germans are the engineers is one example of a stereotype that rings true.  The joke about European hell being a place where the French are the engineers and the Germans the police an example of a stereotype that doesn't work.

French President Nicholas Sarkozy is going to the Olympics in China.  The country of Napoleon has not even a Napoleonic complex today. The Chinese are developing a reputation for bullying. President Sarkozy has been vague about whether he intends to meet with Tibet's Dalai Lama. China has warned of  "serious consequences" to relations between the two nations should the meeting occur. And so, two stereotypes meet.  

President Sarkozy is a conservative on the French political scale and got elected as a pro-American.  There's a presumption of a certain fortitude there.  To this American, there is not even fortitude required of the French president here, merely self-respect, for himself and his country.  That is to say he should meet with the Dalia Lama now even if he was ambivalent before.  

France has a different reputation for fortitude however and here is one American who doesn't want to see that French reputation reinforced in this minor standoff.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Yan Song nee Song Binbin

"Yan Song" is the name Song Binbin adopted while living in the U.S. At the height of her celebrity in China as a Red Guard she also used Song Yaowu ("Be violent"), the given name given her by Mao Zedong. In Morning Sun Song claimed Yan ("stone," "rock") was selected randomly for her by her friends so that she could escape the ignominy of Yaowu. As noted on this site previously there is a symmetry between Yan and Song's course of study in the U.S. at M.I.T.: geology.

If given her by friends, they evidently had not consulted Chinese history beforehand. The astounding entry below on another Yan Song is excerpted from Wikipedia.

Biography

Yan Song was the prime minister who had served under the emperor Jia Jing... Under Yan Song, the nation fell into an era of moral decadence and corruption, where righteous officers were sidelined and the Ming national strength fell rapidly. Yan Song's wealth is said to be so rich that it is said to be comparable to that of the emperor. He is also well known for his corruption and had been known to openly sell government positions for cash during the Jia Qing reign. However, his corruption and treachery had also incurred the indignation of righteous officers and created many political opponents. Yan Song was finally disgraced in his later years and died in poverty not long after that, while his son, the infamous Yan Shifan, was executed for collaborating with Japanese pirates who invaded Chinese coastal provinces at the time.
He was the subject of the Chinese opera called Beating Yan Song (打嚴嵩 Dǎ Yán Sōng).

China's Great Wall of Silence: Ma Liping's Resume

Dear Ms. Ma,

I ran across this quote from you, apparently from a speech that you gave:
http://www.cms.math.ca/Reunions/FCEM2003/abs/pdf/t1-lm.pdf
"There are a few pieces of knowledge and skills 'missing' in the U.S. elementary mathematics. I will discuss what these missing pieces are, why they have been 'missed', and how these pieces may play a significant role in students' mathematics learning."

Changing just a few words, I adopt your quote as my purpose here:

"There are a few pieces of your resume 'missing.' I will discuss what these
missing pieces are, why they have been 'missed', and how these pieces may play a significant role in understanding who you really are."

Yours in finding missing pieces,
Benjamin Harris

China's Great Wall of Silence: Ma Liping's Resume

Dear Ms. Ma,

At this link too, the reviewer of your book lists you as having a master's degree from East China Normal University.
http://www.cms.math.ca/Publications/Reviews/2000/rev2.pdf

Perplexed,
Benjamin Harris

China's Great Wall of Silence: Ma Liping's Resume

Dear Ms. Ma,

Uh-oh. Your famous book Knowing and Teaching Elementary Mathematics also has you as having a master's degree from East China Normal University. So your bio on the National Mathematics Advisory Panel does not appear to have been a typo or a misunderstanding. The book was published in 1999 and it made you famous. It's your book, for heaven's sake. You know that it claims that you have the master's degree.

Please explain.

Sincerely,
Benjamin Harris, J.D.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Ma Liping's Resume

Dear Ms. Ma,

Here is an example of the discrepancy that I referred to in my initial post on you. On the U.S. Department of Education website you are listed as having a master's degree from East China Normal University, yet on the website of the Stanford Chinese School, where you are principal, you are listed as having been only a graduate student.

Liping, How could the Department of Education have gotten that wrong? Where would they have gotten that you had a masters degree if not from you? Certainly, you cannot claim ignorance of your own biography on the D.O.E. website. Why have you not had them change it? I'm sure you are very busy; would you like me to write to them and ask them to change it for you? I'll help in any way I can.

Always at your service,

Benjamin Harris, J.D.

http://www.ed.gov/about/bdscomm/list/mathpanel/bios/ma.html
BOARDS & COMMISSIONS
Biography of Dr. Liping Ma
National Mathematics Advisory Panel
ARCHIVED INFORMATION
Liping Ma is senior scholar at the Carnegie Foundation for Advancement of Teaching. Her book, Knowing and Teaching Elementary Mathematics, is quoted on all sides of discussions about how to teach mathematics in elementary schools in the United States. She has a Ph.D. from Stanford University and earned a masters degree in education from East China Normal University.

http://www.mychineseschool.com/school/xiaozhang.php
1980 For the East China Normal University Graduate Department of Education. Studied under the famous educator, East China Normal University Vice-Chancellor Mr. Liu Fonian.

1980年 为华东师范大学教育系研究生。师从著名教育家、华东师大校长刘佛年先生。

A copy of this post was emailed to Ms. Ma at the Stanford Chinese School's general email address.

The Presidential Campaign

For the first time in my life I am an independent voter. Actually, I am designated officially as "no party" by my state which is more narcissistic than I wish but accurate as applied to my social proclivities.

So also for the first time in my life I actually have to think about for whom to vote and I don't like to think; it often gets me into trouble. But it's only four months till the election and I better start. Here then what I like and don't like about each candidate.

Obama. African-American. Race does matter to me a little, and I'm proud of my country and of the Democratic party that there is an African-American who is

the actual nominee of one of the major parties. Obama+


Associates. This is very important because whomever we elect we also elect an administration and a kitchen cabinet.
-Michelle Obama: Her comment that her husband's victory in a primary was the first time in her life that she was proud of her country.

Obama-

-Cindy McCain: Too peroxide-botox-tacky looking for a first lady, but she doesn't seem to have anything to tell us about her husband's world-

view, as Mrs. Obama might. No factor.

-Cabinet appointments. If the usual suspects are appointed from each

party this will be a huge advantage for McCain. Too early.

-Supreme Court appointments. Also huge and a major McCain+

Okay, that's enough thinking for now.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Wang Jinyao

Before death I want to meet this man.

China's Great Wall of Silence: So Many Ma's, So Little Time. Ma Liping.

Dear Ma,
Nice to meet you, of a fashion. I've heard a lot about you. I heard that you have a Master's Degree from East China Normal University. That's from the website of the U.S. Department of Education, to which you are an advisor. Then I read that you were only a graduate student at East China Normal University. That's from the Stanford Chinese School website. So which is it Ma?

You are from Shanghai, I understand. Were you active in the Red Guards there?

I look forward to hearing from you and clearing up the discrepancy in your educational credentials.

Sincerely,
Benjamin Harris, J.D.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Ma Dexiu

Hello Ma,

Nice to meet you. I assume you

recognize your former Vice Principal Bian

Zhongyun.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name

is Benjamin Harris. I am a lawyer, a homicide

prosecutor, in America.

I look forward to learning more about you.

Please feel free to contact me anytime. I can

be reached at Publocc@gmail.com.

Please say hello to your friends Song Binbin

and Liu Jin for me.

Sincerely,

Benjamin Harris, J.D.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Xu Weixin Paints the Soul. 中国的沉默长城：徐唯辛绘制灵魂

In this painting, Chinese artist Xu Weixin has taken as his subject matter a single photograph of a young woman. Xu has enlarged the photograph enormously; its scale suggests that of the painting of Mao Zedong that defiles the entrance to the Forbidden City in Beijing.

在这幅油画中，中国艺术家徐唯辛将一个年轻女子的单幅相片做为他的创作题材。徐将相片显著地放大了；它的尺幅与玷污了北京紫禁城城门的毛泽东画像相当。

The innocence of the young woman comes through in the painting but there is more to her than the callow school girl. There is strength also; she wears an almost skeptical expression. She has a soul that one can see through her eyes. Mao Zedong had no soul and Gao Qiang powerfully depicted the result in his Swimming Mao: a human being, languid in a river of blood, blood that he spilled.

画中呈现出年轻女子的无辜, 但她并不仅仅是一个单纯的女学生, 其中也有力量：她露出似乎是怀疑的表情。人们可以从她眼中看到她的灵魂。毛泽东没有灵魂，高强在他的《毛泽东勇渡江》中有力地描绘了答案：一个在他自己溅出的血河里倦怠乏力的人。

The young woman is Rongfen Wang, and it is fitting that her photograph is enlarged (it is in fact the size of Mao's at the Forbidden City), and the subject of a painting, for Rongfen indeed had a soul. Forty two years ago this August, nineteen year old Rongfen Wang stood in Tienanmen Square and watched as Song Binbin pinned a Red Guard armband onto Mao Zedong. That moment was the start of the tyrant's great blood-letting in the Cultural Revolution.

这个年轻的女子是王容芬，她的照片被放大是合适的（它实际上是紫禁城上的毛的画像的尺寸），因为油画的主体、容芬的确有一个灵魂。四十二年前的这个八月，当宋彬彬给毛泽东带上红卫兵袖章的时候，19岁的王容芬正站在天安门广场观看。那个时刻是文化大革命中暴君的巨大屠杀的开端。

Millions were caught up in the movement and did the Great Henchman's bidding. Rongfen did something different. She wrote to Mao, comparing him to Hitler, and resigned from the Communist Youth League. She spent twelve years in prison.

上百万的人们陷入了运动中，众多的跟随者也纷纷如此。容芬做了不同的事情。她写信给毛，将他比作希特勒，并且退出共产主义青年团。她在监狱里度过了十二年。


There is a gauzy, ghostly quality to this painting. Seen enlarged, the details of the face merge in the shadows and Rongfen almost disappears. In fact she almost did disappear. She attempted martyrdom by drinking four bottles of insecticide outside of the Soviet embassy, hoping to draw world attention to what was being unleashed.*

在这幅油画中有一种如纱般的，诡异的质感。放大后，脸部的细节融入在阴影中，容芬几乎要消失了。实际上她曾经几乎消失了。她曾试图在苏联大使馆外喝下四瓶杀虫剂殉难，希望她的抗争能够引起世界的关注。*

She survived though, and is now Rongfen Wang, PhD and lives and writes and teaches in Germany. And she has not lost her soul: last year she wrote a devastating critique of Carma Hinton's Cultural Revolution whitewash, Morning Sun.


她活了下来，现在王容芬，博士，在德国居住，写作和执教。她仍然没有失去她的灵魂：去年她写了一篇关于卡玛·辛顿的对文化大革命的粉饰之作《八九点钟的太阳》的辛辣评论。

The Chinese have an ancient, noble tradition of honoring their elders. There are those like Xu Weixin and Gao Qiang and Hu Jie who do honor to those deserving of honor: to Rongfen Wang and Bian Zhongyun and Youqin Wang and Harry Wu. In that tradition the title of Xu 's painting of Rongfen is Student and Teacher.

中国人有尊敬老者的古老的，高尚的传统。像徐唯辛，高强和胡杰他们确实尊重那些值得尊重的老者：王容芬，卞仲耘，王友琴和吴弘达等。在那个传统中徐的容芬的画像的题目是《学生与老师》。

*Jung Chang and Jon Halliday, from whose book Mao, The Unknown Story, this sentence is taken, provide a vivid account of Rongfen Wang's actions (pp 515-516).

*此句引自张戎和乔·哈利戴《毛泽东：鲜为人知的故事》，生动地描述了王容芬的行为（515－516页）。

China's Great Wall of Silence: On Gao Qiang's "Swimming Mao."

WWW.GAOBROTHERS.COM

中国的沉默长城: 评高强「毛泽东勇渡江」。

This Warhol-esque work stands alone below as observers would have seen it in 2006 in Beijing's main art district. It shows Mao Zedong swimming in water colored bright red by the artist, the water staining Mao’s face. This painting is world famous, but not as well known in China. The authorities removed it shortly after it was first exhibited.

这幅安迪沃荷式的作品曾短暂现身于2006年北京的艺术特区。画中表现出毛泽东在一片染红的水里游泳，同时水面上浮现著毛的倒影。这幅举世闻名的油画在中国却并不怎么知名，因為它在北京的展览初期即被有关单位取下。

The subject of Gao Qiang’s painting is a black-and-white photograph of Mao swimming in the Yangtze River on July 16, 1966. The photographs were published nationwide and electrified the country. Mao had not been as visible or as powerful in the earlier years of the decade. The photographs showed him still vigorous at age 72.

高强这幅画的主題源自于一张纪录毛泽东在1966年七月十六日泳渡长江的黑白照片。这张著名的照片在全中国广为流传。此时的毛虽不如早些年那样地具有权势，但照片中已经七十二岁的毛却依旧显得神采奕奕。

Within weeks of the publication of the photographs Mao began to retake total command of the country in a movement that became known as the “Cultural Revolution.” Three million people were to be killed.

在这张照片公开流传之后的数星期，毛为了重新夺权，发动了著名的「文化大革命」，造成三百万人受迫害而死亡。

The Cultural Revolution is the defining moment in the political history of the People’s Republic of China. When it ended with Mao’s death the new authorities immediately reversed it. Despite it’s centrality, the Cultural Revolution is a taboo subject today. It and it’s disasters are too closely associated with the basis of the state’s legitimacy, that is, with Mao Zedong.

文化大革命是中华人民共和国政治历程的一项重要政治运動。当毛去逝后，新的领导班子立即停止了大革命。虽然这个运动影响如此深远，但直至今日，文化大革命依旧被视为一项政治禁忌，这是因為运动本身的发动和它所导致的灾难，都和这个国家的精神象征-毛泽东-脱不了干系。

This summer, as China hosts the world, China’s leaders want the world, and the Chinese people, to forget the Cultural Revolution. They want the world and the Chinese people to pay homage to Mao, to his portrait at the entrance to the Forbidden City, to his mausoleum across the street in Tiananmen Square, but to forget that it was he who was responsible for the Cultural Revolution.

今年夏天，当中国主办奥运会时，中国的领导当局希望世界各国和中国人民把文化大革命置诸脑后。他们希望世界各国和中国人民能对毛泽东，毛在紫禁城门入口的巨幅图像，以及天安门广场的毛纪念馆致以敬意，却刻意不提毛正是文化大革命元凶的事实。

The Gao brothers will have none of this brain-washing. They will not forget, and will not let others forget. Every Chinese knows what that photograph symbolizes. They know that even in black and white, the photograph has color, that Mao Zedong swims in a river of blood, and the stains upon his face are the blood of the Chinese people. 

高氏兄弟却不会被这些宣传所洗脑，他们不想忘记，也提醒其他人不要忘记。每一个中国人都能理解那张照片所蕴含的象征意义。人们知道即使照片本身是黑白的，但它的背景却是饱含血色的 - 毛泽东在一条血流成的河里游泳，而他脸上的水渍，正是其受迫害的中国人民的斑斑鲜血。

作者: 班杰明•哈里斯

True Crime Stories: Res Ipsa Loquitor

Res Ipsa Loquitor is a latin phrase, common in the law, meaning "the thing speaks for itself," which this police officer's deposition does.

Q. What was your assignment back in May of last year?
A. I was a sergeant assigned at that time to the 14th district.
Q. During the course of your duties did you have an opportunity to respond to an address where a homicide had occurred?
A. Yes.
Q. Can you tell me how it was that you became involved in this particular case?
A. I had a prior accident where there was damage to my police vehicle earlier that night where the gate—the gate at the south station closed on my vehicle. So I was at the station for approximately two hours. So I was in there speaking with the lieutenant. She was handling my paperwork reference the vehicle damage from the city gate. Once I completed that paperwork and all that, she asked me to go home because she knew I was pissed because I take care of my equipment.
At this point I told her—I said no. I am here. Something made me come to work tonight. This happened for a reason, full moon.
I proceeded to pull out of the gate at the station. I made a right-hand turn to go south.
Q. With the damaged vehicle?
A. Yeah.
Q. What happened next?
A. As I made the right-hand, I’d say maybe I got approximately 150 feet, all of a sudden, I see a Hispanic male running towards my car.
I didn’t know if it was the typical neighborhood drunk that got thrown out of the bar or just got robbed or whatever the case was, but he seemed extremely frantic. As he was approaching me he was only screaming and yelling in Spanish.
I stopped my vehicle. I got out. I told him, “Slow down, calm down,” so I could kind of—
Q. Do you speak Spanish?
A. No, I don’t.
Q. So, what did you do?
A. I was trying to gather what he was saying. I was able to ascertain in my mind, from what he was telling me, that either there was some children that might have drowned in the tub, or something to do with a bathroom, maybe a possible suicide. I am gathering this from my broken Spanish and just trying to figure out what he was saying because he was extremely frantic.
He was pointing in the direction of the address where this incident occurred.
Q. How far is that from where the police station is?
A. A few hundred feet, approximately a few hundred feet.
So he was motioning to me, you know, reference something with the kids and water, something to do with that in the apartment.
I go racing over with him.
Q. Did you drive or walk?
A. I drove my vehicle directly to the front.
As I pulled my vehicle up, I believe I started to advise on the air that I didn’t know what I had, a possible suicide or—I don’t remember the exact thing. I had no idea what I had. This guy is frantic.
As I am approaching it, the apartment door was ajar.
Q. Is this on the ground floor?
A. Yes. It’s all one floor apartments.
The door was ajar as I approached. The guy who had flagged me down, he kept pointing in there. He appeared to be terrified. He didn’t know what was going on.
As I swing the door open a little further, the apartment was completely pitch black.
Q. No lights?
A. No lights whatsoever on in the apartment, and the floor of the apartment was flooded. When I say flooded, I would say anywhere from one to two inches of water. That really raised my suspicion that I might have exigent type circumstances in the apartment.
I went into high gear very quickly because my whole thinking was I might have had children that were drowning. Now I am thinking, “Holy shit.” Now, obviously, there is some type of foul play.
I presume you had a flashlight?
A. Yes.
I scanned in the apartment to get a little further for my safety or whatever, because I thought I was going in there dealing with children that were maybe in the tub.
Once I enter the threshold to the door I drew my weapon. The whole apartment appeared to be disheveled. It had a very nasty smell, like a musty type of a smell.
Q. What room are you in when you enter?
A. The living room.
Q. There’s nobody in the living room?
A. There’s nobody in the living room. Past the living room is a hallway and I see a room off the hallway, I see a closed door.
As I got to the closed door, based on my training, knowledge and experience, I said “Let me scream out,” or something, see if I get a response before I go in, gain entry to this door. Maybe the kids are in there. If I end up smashing the door, knock them over, injure them.
Q. Had backup arrived yet?
A. No. I am still completely by myself.
I ended up screaming out very loudly: “Open the door! Open the door!”
I probably said it cursing. “Open the”—actually, I remember. “Open the fucking door.”
I said that maybe once or twice initially. I waited a second or two.
Q. Did you hear anything?
A. Nothing, no movement at all.
The second time I really got very loud, extremely assertive saying the same thing. “Open the fucking door!” “Open the fucking God damn door right now!”
I heard a little bit of shuffling inside of the bathroom. As I said that, within a very short span, one or two seconds, the door became ajar. As soon as the door opened up, I see the mother, the defendant—
Q. Ms. Alvera?
A. She is standing there holding a toddler; I’d say a three to five-year-old. I think she had her clutched, holding her in her left arm, like holding her like with her buttocks sitting on her arm, and the daughter had no shirt on. I noticed the mother was kind of like lethargic looking. She looked like she was totally in another—
Q. Place?
A. I don’t know where she was. Yeah, another place.
Once I realized it was her and the little girl, I holstered my gun.
I see the child, the three to five-year-old. She has got all kinds of—the way to describe it is pricks, which is like the—
Q. Little puncture wounds?

more

China's Great Wall of Silence: Gao Qiang's "Swimming Mao."

Memorial Day

Not long ago I heard a young man ask why people still kept up Memorial Day and it set me thinking of the answer.

Not the answer that you and I should give to each other not the expression of those feelings that, so long as you live, will make this day sacred to memories of love and grief and heroic youth but an answer which should command the assent of those who do not share our memories and in which we of the North and our brethren of the South could join in perfect accord.


So far as this last is concerned, to be sure, there is no trouble.The soldiers who were doing their best to kill one another felt less of personal hostility, I am very certain, than some who were not imperilled by their mutual endeavors. I have heard more than one of those who had been gallant and distinguished officers on the Confederate side say that they had had no such feeling. I know that, I and those whom I knew best, had not. We believed that it was most desirable that the North should win, we believed in the principle that the Union is indissoluble, we, or many of us at least
also believed that the conflict was inevitable, and that slavery had lasted long enough.

But we equally believed that those who stood against us held just as sacred conviction that were the opposite of ours and we respected them as every man with a heart must respect those who give all for their belief. The experience of battle soon taught its lesson even to those who came into the field more bitterly disposed. You could not stand up, day after day, in those indecisive contests where overwhelming victory was impossible because neither side would run as they ought when beaten, without getting at least something of the same brotherhood for the enemy that the north pole of a magnet has for the south--each working in an opposite sense to the other, but each unable to get along without the other.

As it was then, it is now.

The soldiers of the war need no explanations; they can join in commemorating a soldier's death with feelings not different in kind, whether he fell toward them or by their side.

But Memorial Day may and ought to have a meaning also for those who do not share our memories.
When men have instinctively agreed to celebrate an anniversary, it will be found that there is some thought of feeling behind it which is too large to be dependent upon associations alone.

The Fourth of July, for instance, has still its serious aspect, although we no longer should think of rejoicing like children that we have escaped from an outgrown control although we have achieved not only our national but our moral independence and know it far too profoundly to make a talk about it, and although an Englishman can join in the celebration without a scruple. For, stripped of the temporary associations which gives rise to it, it is now the moment when by common consent we pause to become conscious of our national life and to rejoice in it to recall what our country has done for each of us, and to ask ourselves what we can do for the country in return.

So to the indifferent inquirer who asks why Memorial Day is still kept up we may answer, it celebrates and solemnly reaffirms from year to year a national act of enthusiasm and faith.
It embodies in the most impressive form our belief that to act with enthusiasm and faith is the condition of acting greatly. To fight out a war, you must believe something and want something with all your might. So must you do to carry anything else to an end worth reaching.

More than that, you must be willing to commit yourself to a course perhaps a long and hard one
without being able to foresee exactly where you will come out. All that is required of you is that you should go somewhither as hard as ever you can. The rest belongs to fate. One may fall--at the beginning of the charge or at the top of the earthworks but in no other way can he reach the rewards of victory.

When it was felt so deeply as it was on both sides that a man ought to take part in the war unless some conscientious scruple or strong practical reason made it impossible was that feeling simply the requirement of a local majority that their neighbors should agree with them? I think not: I think the feeling was right--in the South as in the North. I think that as life is action and passion it is required of a man that he should share the passion and action of his time at peril of being judged not to have lived.

If this be so, the use of this day is obvious.
It is true that I cannot argue a man into a desire.
If he says to me, Why should I seek to know the secrets of philosophy? Why seek to decipher the hidden laws of creation that are graven upon the tablets of the rocks, or to unravel the history of civilization that is woven in the tissue of our jurisprudence or to do any great work, either of speculation or of practical affairs? I cannot answer him or at least my answer is as little worth making for any effect it will have upon his wishes if he asked why I should eat this, or drink that. You must begin by wanting to.

But although desire cannot be imparted by argument, it can be by contagion.
Feeling begets feeling, and great feeling begets great feeling.
We can hardly share the emotions that make this day to us the most sacred day of the year, and embody them in ceremonial pomp, without in some degree imparting them to those who come after us.

I believe from the bottom of my heart that our memorial halls and statues and tablets the tattered flags of our regiments gathered in the Statehouses are worth more to our young men by way of chastening and inspiration than the monuments of another hundred years of peaceful life could be.

But even if I am wrong even if those who come after us are to forget all that we hold dear, and the future is to teach and kindle its children in ways as yet unrevealed it is enough for us that this day is dear and sacred.

Accidents may call up the events of the war.
You see a battery of guns go by at a trot, and for a moment you are back at White Oak Swamp, or Antietam, or on the Jerusalem Road.
You hear a few shots fired in the distance and for an instant your heart stops as you say to yourself
"The skirmishers are at it," and listen for the long roll of fire from the main line.
You meet an old comrade after many years of absence; he recalls the moment that you were nearly surrounded by the enemy, and again there comes up to you that swift and cunning thinking on which once hung life and freedom
Shall I stand the best chance if I try the pistol or the sabre on that man who means to stop me?
Will he get his carbine free before I reach him, or can I kill him first?
These and the thousand other events we have known are called up, I say, by accident and, apart from accident, they lie forgotten.

But, as surely as this day comes round, we are in the presence of the dead.
For one hour, twice a year at least at the regimental dinner, where the ghosts sit at table more numerous than the living, and on this day when we decorate their graves the dead come back and live with us.

I see them now
more than I can number,
as once I saw them on this earth.
They are the same bright figures, or their counterparts, that come also before your eyes and when I speak of those who were my brothers, the same words describe yours.

I see a fair-haired lad
a lieutenant,
and a captain on whom life had begun somewhat to tell
but still young,
sitting by the long mess-table in camp before the regiment left the State
and wondering how many of those who gathered in our tent could hope to see the end of what was then beginning.
For neither of them was that destiny reserved.
I remember, as I awoke from my first long stupor in the hospital after the battle of Ball's Bluff, I heard the doctor say, "He was a beautiful boy", and I knew that one of those two speakers was no more.
The other, after passing through all the previous battles, went into Fredericksburg with strange premonition of the end, and there met his fate.

I see another youthful lieutenant as I saw him in the Seven Days, when I looked down the line at Glendale.
The officers were at the head of their companies.
The advance was beginning. We caught each other's eye and saluted.
When next I looked, he was gone.

I see the brother of the last
the flame of genius and daring on his face
as he rode before us into the wood of Antietam, out of which came only dead and deadly wounded men.
So, a little later, he rode to his death at the head of his cavalry in the Valley.

In the portraits of some of those who fell in the civil wars of England, Vandyke has fixed on canvas the type who stand before my memory. Young and gracious faces somewhat remote and proud, but with a melancholy and sweet kindness. There is upon their faces the shadow of approaching fate, and the glory of generous acceptance of it.I may say of them, as I once heard it said of two Frenchmen
relics of the ancien regime, "They were very gentle. They cared nothing for their lives." High breeding, romantic chivalry we who have seen these men can never believe that the power of money or the enervation of pleasure has put an end to them. We know that life may still be lifted into poetry and lit with spiritual charm.

But the men, not less, perhaps even more, characteristic of New England, were the Puritans of our day. For the Puritan still lives in New England, thank God!
and will live there so long as New England lives and keeps her old renown.
New England is not dead yet.
She still is mother of a race of conquerors,
stern men, little given to the expression of their feelings,
sometimes careless of their graces,
but fertile, tenacious, and knowing only duty.
Each of you, as I do, thinks of a hundred such that he has known.

I see one,
grandson of a hard rider of the Revolution and bearer of his historic name who was with us at Fair Oaks, and afterwards for five days and nights in front of the enemy. The only sleep that he would take was what he could snatch sitting erect in his uniform and resting his back against a hut.
He fell at Gettysburg.

His brother
a surgeon, who rode, as our surgeons so often did, wherever the troops would go, I saw kneeling in ministration to a wounded man just in rear of our line at Antietam, his horse's bridle round his arm
the next moment his ministrations were ended. His senior associate survived all the wounds and perils of the war, but not yet through with duty as he understood it fell in helping the helpless poor who were dying of cholera in a Western city.

I see another quiet figure
of virtuous life and quiet ways
not much heard of until our left was turned at Petersburg.
He was in command of the regiment as he saw our comrades driven in.
He threw back our left wing, and the advancing tide of defeat was shattered against his iron wall.
He saved an army corps from disaster, and then a round shot ended all for him.

There is one who on this day is always present on my mind.
He entered the army at nineteen
a second lieutenant.
In the Wilderness, already at the head of his regiment, he fell
using the moment that was left him of life to give all of his little fortune to his soldiers.
I saw him in camp
on the march, in action. I crossed debatable land with him when we were rejoining the Army together.
I observed him in every kind of duty
and never in all the time I knew him did I see him fail to choose that alternative of conduct which was most disagreeable to himself.
He was indeed a Puritan in all his virtues, without the Puritan austerity
For, when duty was at an end, he
who had been the master and leader
became the chosen companion in every pleasure that a man might honestly enjoy.
His few surviving companions will never forget the awful spectacle of his advance alone with his company in the streets of Fredericksburg.
In less than sixty seconds he would become the focus of a hidden and annihilating fire from a semicircle of houses.
His first platoon had vanished under it in an instant
ten men falling dead by his side.
He had quietly turned back to where the other half of his company was waiting
had given the order, "Second Platoon, forward!" and was again moving on, in obedience to superior command, to certain and useless death
when the order he was obeying was countermanded.
The end was distant only a few seconds; but if you had seen him with his indifferent carriage
and sword swinging from his finger like a cane
you would never have suspected that he was doing more than conducting a company drill on the camp parade ground.
He was little more than a boy
but the grizzled corps commanders knew and admired him
and for us, who not only admired, but loved
his death seemed to end a portion of our life also.

There is one grave and commanding presence that you all would recognize
for his life has become a part of our common history.
Who does not remember the leader of the assault of the mine at Petersburg?
The solitary horseman in front of Port Hudson
whom a foeman worthy of him bade his soldiers spare
from love and admiration of such gallant bearing?
Who does not still hear the echo of those eloquent lips after the war teaching reconciliation and peace?
I may not do more than allude to his death, fit ending of his life.
All that the world has a right to know has been told by a beloved friend in a book wherein friendship has found no need to exaggerate facts that speak for themselves.
I knew him
and I may even say I knew him well
yet, until that book appeared, I had not known the governing motive of his soul.
I had admired him as a hero.
When I read, I learned to revere him as a saint.
His strength was not in honor alone, but in religion
and those who do not share his creed must see that it was on the wings of religious faith that he mounted above even valiant deeds into an empyrean of ideal life.

I have spoken of some of the men who were near to me
among others very near and dear
not because their lives have become historic
but because their lives are the type of what every soldier has known and seen in his own company.
In the great democracy of self-devotion
private and general stand side by side. Unmarshalled save by their own deeds, the army of the dead sweep before us
"wearing their wounds like stars."
It is not because the men I have mentioned were my friends that I have spoken of them, but
I repeat
because they are types. I speak of those whom I have seen. But you all have known such; you, too, remember!

It is not of the dead alone that we think on this day.
There are those still living
whose sex forbade them to offer their lives, but who gave instead their happiness.
Which of us has not been lifted above himself by the sight of one of those lovely, lonely women
around whom the wand of sorrow has traced its excluding circle
set apart, even when surrounded by loving friends who would fain bring back joy to their lives?
I think of one whom the poor of a great city know as their benefactress and friend.
I think of one who has lived not less greatly in the midst of her children
to whom she has taught such lessons as may not be heard elsewhere from mortal lips.
The story of these and her sisters we must pass in reverent silence. All that may be said has been said by one of their own sex---

But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.
Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
weaned my young soul from yearning after thine,
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten,
Down to that tomb already more than mine.


Comrades
some of the associations of this day are not only triumphant, but joyful.
Not all of those with whom we once stood shoulder to shoulder
not all of those whom we once loved and revered--are gone.
On this day we still meet our companions in the freezing winter bivouacs
and in those dreadful summer marches where every faculty of the soul seemed to depart
one after another, leaving only a dumb animal power to set the teeth and to persist-- a blind belief that somewhere and at last there was bread and water.
On this day, at least, we still meet and rejoice in the closest tie which is possible between men-- a tie which suffering has made indissoluble for better, for worse.

When we meet thus when we do honor to the dead in terms that must sometimes embrace the living, we do not deceive ourselves. We attribute no special merit to a man for having served when all were serving. We know that, if the armies of our war did anything worth remembering, the credit belongs not mainly to the individuals who did it but to average human nature. We also know very well that we cannot live in associations with the past alone and we admit that, if we would be worthy of the past, we must find new fields for action or thought, and make for ourselves new careers.

But,
nevertheless
the generation that carried on the war has been set apart by its experience.
Through our great good fortune, in our youth our hearts were touched with fire.
It was given to us to learn at the outset
that life is a profound and passionate thing.
While we are permitted to scorn nothing but indifference
and do not pretend to undervalue the worldly rewards of ambition
we have seen with our own eyes
beyond and above the gold fields
the snowy heights of honor
and it is for us to bear the report to those who come after us.
But above all we have learned that whether a man accepts from Fortune her spade, and will look downward and dig
or from Aspiration her axe and cord and will scale the ice
the one and only success which it is his to command is to bring to his work a mighty heart.

Such hearts
ah me, how many!
were stilled twenty years ago;
and to us who remain behind is left this day of memories.
Every year
in the full tide of spring
at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life
there comes a pause
and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death.
Year after year lovers wandering under the apple trees
and through the clover and deep grass are surprised with sudden tears as they see black veiled figures stealing through the morning to a soldier's grave.
Year after year the comrades of the dead follow
with public honor, procession and commemorative flags and funeral march
honor and grief from us who stand almost alone
and have seen the best and noblest of our generation pass away.

But grief is not the end of all.
I seem to hear the funeral march become a paean.
I see
beyond the forest
the moving banners of a hidden column.
Our dead brothers still live for us, and bid us think of life, not death
of life to which in their youth they lent the passion and joy of the spring.
As I listen, the great chorus of life and joy begins again
and amid the awful orchestra of seen and unseen powers
and destinies of good and evil
our trumpets sound once more a note of daring
hope
and will.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. His Touched with Fire speech, delivered to a veteran's post on Memorial Day address, 1884.
For more on this speech see The Pennsylvania 133rd Volunteer Regiment at Fredericksburg on this site.

This is Public Occurrences

THIS

Symbol: Approximate to.

Color: Blue--strength, steadfastness, light, friendliness, peace, 

truthfulness, love.

 NOT THIS

Symbol: The same as.

Color: Yellow--wealth, cowardice, illness, dishonesty, avarice,

weakness, greed.

We are not the same; we are diverse.

We are not cowardly, ill, dishonest, weak, or greedy.

We are for peace; we are strong, steadfast, friendly, 

truthful, and loving.

True Crime Stories: "Any lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client."

For the non-lawyer (that is, a normal person), the appellate

rights granted a defendant are the most frustrating aspect of

the criminal justice system. A defendant goes to trial, is

represented by a (in most cases taxpayer-paid) lawyer, has a

fair and impartial judge preside over the trial, is convicted,

and then...oftentimes years later, his conviction is overturned,

and he's granted a new trial.


However, when a defendant enters into a "plea bargain," there is no

trial to get overturned. The prosecution and the (taxpayer-funded)

defense lawyer "plea bargain," the defendant admits to the crime

charged, and recieves the sentence agreed to by his lawyer and

the prosecutor . Before accepting the plea, the judge goes through a

thorough "plea colloquy" with the defendant to make sure that he

knows what he is doing, is making the decision freely, without

promises or coercion, that he understands the plea bargain

and it's consequences, and is entering into the plea because

it is in his best interests.


After that, it's done. No appeals, end of case.


Right?


To quote the eminent legal scholar Borat, "Pause, pause, pause,
NOT!"


The defendant still has the right to appeal. He can claim that

he didn't understand the terms of the plea agreement-- for whatever

reason--; he can claim that his lawyer was ineffective in representing

him (the most frequent claim); any number of things. And defendants

do claim these things. In almost every single case, they file what is

called a "post-conviction" motion to try to get their plea set aside.

Although written pro se, that is, by the defendants themselves,

these motions are usually very well-drafted legally. "Jail house

lawyers," themselves inmates, who have availed themselves of the

law library in the jail (also provided gratis of the taxpayers), to

educate themselves in such matters, help other inmates with their

motions.


Occasionally however, a neophyte (lawyer, not criminal) decides to

file his motion truly on his own, without the assistance of a jail house

lawyer. The motion excerpted below is the result of one such

effort.


"Because petitioner is seriously pressed

for time [ed. note: petitioner was serving a

40 year prison sentence]...petitioner is

forced to simply xerox said argument

from ...those previously submitted...[ed

note: defendants cannot file successive post-

conviction motions, and this was petitioner's

sixth such motion] be that as it may, it's all

the same... petitioner is entitled to the

relief he seeks." (page 5)


"Facts are petitioner...simply refuses to

be further burdened by the convictions

of these cases. Enough is enough. If

respondent [that is, the prosecutor] has a

'problem' with that then let it take

petitioner to trial..." (page 5)


"Although this petition may seem

lengthy..." (page 5 of 38)


"Defendant reasserts he is absolutely

innocent of...the battery of a law

enforcement officer because the truth

is defendant...merely pulled his arm

from HER grasp which caused HER to

lose HER balance and fall backwards..."

(page 8) [emphasis added]


"Although defendant does not have law

to cite herein he submits there is such

law..." (page 19)


"GROUND G:

THE COURT ERRED IN ACCEPTING

A GUILTY PLEA FROM DEFENDANT

WHEN HE WAS OBVUIOSLY (sic)

UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HIGHLY

POTENT PSYCHOTROPIC DRUGS."


"The court grossly violated the plea

which prompted defendant to enter

(i.e. to stand by and watch the

court enter the plea for him)."


"Accordingly, when actually called

before the court that day, petitioner

simply stood there (something he has

regretted ever since) and listened to the

court's pronouncement of sentence..."

[ed note: excerpt from plea colloquy: The

Court: All right. Are you doing this freely

and voluntarily? The Defendant: I certainly

am, sir."]


"Defendant is not guilty by reason of

insanity due to ingestion of/addiction

to prodigal (sic) amounts of cocaine."

(page 20)


"Although defendant does not have

any Washington, D.C. 'case law'

supporting that conclusion..."

(page 20)


"Although it may be argued that

defendant is being too technical here..."

(page 27)


"Again, in the event the court that all

related herein (sic) 'is just too lengthy'

to read..." (page 24)


"B. THE TRIAL COURT FAILED TO

NOTIFY DEFENDANT OF HIS RIGHT

TO APPEAL THOSE AUGUST 19, 1987,

PROCEEDINGS." [ed note: this motion was

filed by the defendant in 2004]

"Although that failure did not really

prejudice defendant who was well

aware of that Right..." (page 34) [ed note:

the law requires that the defendant specifically

allege prejudice.]


"Is this the kind of justice the Washington,

D.C. court dispenses?"

This is Public Occurrences: "We Rise with Our Dreams."

The post below was first published here on November 13, 2007. The words, and original melody, to this inspirational song have been recorded as We Rise with our Dreams by former Jefferson Airplane founder and lead singer Marty Balin. The song is part of Mr. Balin's CD, Nashville Sessions. A one-minute clip of the song is available here, as are instructions for ordering the CD.

http://www.jbppresentsmartybalin.com/cdnville.htm

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

These are the lyrics to the theme song of Subaru Ski World

which aired in the 1980's and 1990's. I have never forgotten

them. In my opinion they are wise, and perhaps you will agree.

If so, sometimes one can find wisdom in the most unlikely

of places.

Anyone with information on the composer or the song please

email PUBLOCC@gmail.com so that credit can be given.


Man can’t recall

when he first learned to fall

or the time

when he first learned to climb.

But the dream is the thing

both his anchor and wing

it’s his soul

and the flame in his eye.


Oh the wisdom is reaching

far beyond what you see

and the triumph is seeking

all the best you can be.

So delight in the journey

or the struggle it seems

for the spirit is learning

that we rise with our dreams.


Man is the sum

of the living he’s done

and the choices

he’s made in his time.

To the left or the right

through the dark or the light

given earth

how he yearns for the sky.

Oh the wisdom is reaching

far beyond what you see

and the triumph is seeking

all the best you can be.

So delight in the journey

or the struggle it seems

for the spirit is learning

that we rise with our dreams.

"Never judge a person by the dumbest thing that (s)he ever said."
-A colleague's wife.

True Crime Stories: The World's Best Job

In the middle of a murder trial, I walked out of court to summon the
next witness.

Judge John Moore was chatting with the Coroner, a witness-in-waiting.
Judge Moore had put himself through law school while a police detective,
and an excellent one.

"Doc, you're up," I said to the Coroner, while simultaneously shaking
Judge Moore's hand.

"Hey Judge, how you doin'?," I said.

"I can't get him to call me John...," he said to the Coroner.

"I would never do that..."

"I can't get my friends to call me John and I can't get my wife to call
me Your Honor."

Both of us laughing, Dr. Singh and I parted from the judge and entered
the courtroom.

True Crime Stories

In this jurisdiction, people who are arrested are entitled to a "bond (bail) hearing" within 24 hours of arrest.

All of the arrestees are in a special room in the jail that is video and audio-linked to the Courtroom where a Judge, a prosecutor, and a public defender are present. The Judge calls the arrestee's name, he/she steps forward, the Judge formally advises the person of the charges, and then reviews the police officer's report for legal sufficiency.

The jailer then advises the judge of what the "standard" bond is for the crime charged, and the Judge sets bond. For First Degree Murder, the Judge has no discretion. Noone so charged is entitled to bond at this hearing.

The bond hearing is a quick proceeding, usually no more than half a minute (this is a volume business), but sometimes arrestees still manage to worsen their situation.

(As is everything written under this heading, what follows is true and unembellished. This is a verbatim transcript of the hearing.)

JUDGE: Elijah Hughes. Mr. Hughes you are charged

with First Degree Murder. I find probable cause.


JAILER: No bond.


JUDGE: No bond.


MR. HUGHES: It wasn't Murder, she was alive when I

left.


PUBLIC DEFENDER: Don't say anything.


(Other Arrestees laughing loudly)

True Crime Stories

-Raped a young woman, let out on bond.

-Murdered his rape victim, posed her with legs spread, and covered her for the police to discover, and murdered the rape victim's female friend.

-Convicted, given the death penalty.

-Death penalty overturned on appeal.

-Resentenced to the death penalty.

-Death penalty overturned on appeal.

-Third death jury hung 6-6: automatic Life sentence.

-Murdered another inmate in prison, WITH A PLASTIC SPOON.

-Convicted of Third Degree Murder.

-Serving Life sentence.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Another Pic of Song Binbin and Liu Jin Whooping It Up.

Song, tormented all these years by "rumors," second from left, and Liu-"Bian-Zhongyun-is-dead.-There's-no-need-to-talk about-it"-Jin, fifth from left.

One can feel their angst.

China's Great Wall of Silence: Carma Hinton and Sarah Jane Olson, Seperated at Birth?

The former Red Guard left, and the former Symbionese Liberation Army member right, in current photographs, the one studying art at Carnegie-Mellon University, the other a housewife.

God Bless America, and God Bless Our Troops

We may disagree with what we're doing in Iraq, and why, but all Americans can admire our troops: their courage, and here, their esprit de corps. Look at this fresh-faced angel!

God Bless America, and God Bless our Troops: Girls will be Girls!"

Even death all around, the American "pursuit of happiness" spirit prevails!

God Bless America, and God Bless Our Troops

Military Police Specialist Sabrina Harman, a latter day Nazi/Red Guard, in a photograph with a recently murdered man, at Abu Ghraib Prison. A cropped version of this photograph appeared at the beginning of this series.



The Sadistic M.P. with her, and our, victims.



Did she paint her lips with his blood?




In custody, we hope for a long, long time.