Daily Archives: May 6, 2009

Randy Ford Author- and they sang the “Internationale” in Tagalog

      Don knew more about demonstrations than he let on.   He had seen and participated in them.   But the demonstration wasn’t his main interest this time.   He said, “You wonder if they know what they really doing.   I’m not sure I would know.   Nick you’ve taught here for a number of years.   I wonder if they really know what they’re demonstrating about.   In a few hours it’ll be over, and they’ll go home.   I bet that’s what Marcos is counting on.   What do you think?   And they aren’t just doing this to get out of class, I can see that.”

      Ted picked Ben out of the crowd, as he waited for the mike, a little impatient by now.   The young man stood to one side of a dais and grim-faced in light of the situation waited his turn.   Ted said, “Do you think Ben intends to graduate?”   Nick really hadn’t thought about that before; Ben was like so many other radical students; probably he’d end up in prison.   Nick said, “I know Ben.   That young man is bright.   Leaders are usually very bright.   No nonsense kind of guys.   He may look like a boy to you, but he knows what he’s fighting for.   He knows as much as Comrade Sison.”   Ted was about to explain to Don that the Comrade Sison Nick so casually mentioned was the Communist college professor who….when Don chimed in, “You don’t have to tell me.   I know about Jose Maria Sison.”   Don’s quick response startled Ted.   Nick said, “Dr. Sison articulates what we all know, that’s all.   No offense intended, but Ben knows what he’s doing, as well as anyone.”   And in that short exchange Don had his suspicions confirmed and knew from Susan that Ted was involved.   He supposed Ted could claim he was unwittingly involved and given his assignment he supposed he could say he had to befriend Nick.   But then, too, Ted could’ve given all of his attention to the theater at Fort Santiago, or nearly all of it, allotting only enough time at the university to teach his classes.

      When he heard President Kennedy’s Inaugural Address, Don decided to do something for his country, and all he could envision was digging wells in places in Africa or South America, living with the people and surrendering as much of himself as possible.   He saw that for some the sacrifice of putting off a Ph.D. in science to join the Peace Corps, as he did, would’ve been too big.   Those first two years Don lived in a small but clean one-room cement house.   His town was a small rooster-infested town on the north coast of Mindanoa.   It wasn’t Africa or South America, his first two choices, but living there suited him, and, as a science teacher, with a sea as a lab, and within reach of forests and mountains, he couldn’t have been happier.   In no other part of the world would Don have been more satisfied.   From day one he took his students out in the field, and many of the grownups thought that was a waste of time.   It wasn’t.   He was trying to teach them by showing them something, show and not tell.   He would say, “Take that conch shell you just picked up.   Place it to your ear, and what do you hear?   Why do you hear what you hear?   And is it living or dead?”   And they began to understand that Don wasn’t going to teach their children by rote, or by having them memorize from a book.

      They finally chanced it.   Don, Ted, and Elaine; Nick stayed behind.   (He said to catch up on some work,)   They would run, duck, and hide.   Every now and then they would run into a pocket of students; and Ted would identify himself as a faculty member.   It didn’t matter then that they were Yankee imperialists.   As the students had chanted and shouted and drowned each other out, every once and while someone would take up the “Internationale” in Tagalog.   Yes, the students had been rowdy, irreverent, and troublesome, but after seeing Ted’s I.D they showed their politeness, and let them go through.   By then the demonstration was over, but here and there down the central street a victorious cadre of leaders congratulated each other after the university had virtually been handed over to them.   Mimeographed manifestoes were scattered all over, with the barricades and the command posts still manned.   The campus had truly died down, but there was still a potential for a fight.   So school kids, now in control, posted sentries around the campus, where students and faculty earlier in the day had hurried to their classes.   They held the high ground…the Administration Building…where they waited to be challenged.   Don said, “We better be quick.   They’re hard to predict.”

Randy Ford

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Susan Yarina- Excerpt: from BEST MAN FOR THE JOB

      Susan Yarina- Excerpt: from BEST MAN FOR THE JOB 

      Clay Carter and Lee Ann Waters were both hired on trial.  The ranch owner would decide at the end of a month who’d earned the position of foreman.  Clay beleived in training horses the old cowboy way and Lee Ann used all the newest techniques…even a thing she called “imprinting.”  Hell, a ranch was no place for that.  He’d show her. 

      Lee Ann sat that palomino real well as she moved into a mass of cactus that must be what Charlie’d referred to as “a cholla forest”.  The little filly Clay rode began to balk and back up.  He was having none of it.  He gigged her with the spurs and the next thing he knew she whirled, leaped into the air in a bid for freedom.  She came down hard in a jackhammer buck that caught him off center, then she whirled again. 

      In a startling moment of clarity he had an “out of body” experience and saw himself flung high and about to land astride a huge viscious looking cactus.  His world exploded into a seething mass of pain as needles embedded thmselves deep into spots a man never wanted hurt in any way.  Then he hit the ground with a sickening thud and realized that for the most part he was stuck to it and pinned together by thousands of needles surely made in hell.  He fought to reman concious and just when he thought he was losing it, an angel on a golden hourse hovered into view, but spoke with that little hellcat Lew Ann Water’s voice.  “Don’t you know you can’t force a thousand pound animal to do what you want?”

      Susan Yarina, Author



      P.O Box 8714  Apache Junction, Arizona 85220 USA

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Arizona Historical Society-Let’s Make History Books to read


      AMBUSH AT BLOODY RUN: THE WHAM PAYMASTER ROBBERY OF 1889 by Larry D. Ball.   2000, 206 pp.., maps, illus.  ISBN  0-910037-40-X.  $34.95  hard-cover

      ANTRIM IS MY STEPFATHER’S NAME: THE BOYHOOD OF BILLY THE KID by Jerry Weddle.  Forward by Robert M. Utley.  1993, 94 pp, maps, illus.   ISBN 0-910037-31-0  $16.95 soft-cover

      ARIZONA’S COWBOY CAVALRY: A PHOTOGRAPHIC HISTORY OF THE ARIZONA ROUGH RIDERS by Charles H. Herner.  1998, 23 pp., illus.  $5.00 soft-cover. 

      BEFORE REBELLION: LETTERS & REPORTS OF JACOBO SEDELMAYER, S. J.  translated by Donald Matson, with an introduction and annotations by Bernard L. Fontana.   1996, 96 pp., maps.  ISBN 0-910037-37-X,  $65,00 hard-cover. 

      CAMP RENO: OUTPOST IN APACHERIA 1867-1870 by Jim Schrier.  Forward by Dan Thrapp.  1992, 77 pp., maps, illus.  ISBN 0-910037. $14.95 soft-cover

      CAVALRY YELLOW & INFANTRY BLUE: ARMY OFFICERS IN ARIZONA BETWEEN 1851 AND 1886 by Constance Wynn Altshuler  1991, 406 pp.  ISBN 0-910037.  $45.00 hard-cover

      Arizona Historical Society

     Publications Division, Arizona HistoricalSociety, 949 E. 2nd St., Tucson, Az. 85719-4898

     Orders must be paid in advance.   Check or money order payable to the Arizona Historical Society, or with your complete credit card in information. 

     Shipping and handling: $3.00 first book, $1.00 each additional book.

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The Poetry Center- Solar Poetry Contest

      The Poetry Center and The Arizona Research Insitute for Solar Energy (AzRIZE) presents a university-wide Solar Poetry Contest.  The contest is presented in celebration of the University of Arizona’s upcoming participation in the U.S. Department of Energy Solar Decathlon, an international student competition to build a house fully powered by the sun. 

      The Poetry Center invites all UofA students and benefits-eligible staff to submit a sonnet about the sun to Solar Poetry Contest. 

     Three $500 prizes will be given for the best Petrarchan, Shakespearean, and Non-traditional Sonnet. 

      Judged by US Creative Writing Professor Alison Hawthorne Deming

     Deadline for submission is May 15, 2009

     Winners will be announced in August 2009 and will have the opportunity to read their work at the public viewing of the solar house on August 28.

      Sonnet Forms

      A Petrarchan Sonnet (also called Italian Sonnet) has a two-part structure; an octave (8-line stanza) and a sestet (6-line stanza).  The break between the two stanzas is called the volta, or turning point, and at this time something in the poem’s argument changes.  There are several variations of the Petrarchan rhme scheme-especially for the last stanza-but it tends to be: abbaabba in the octave, and cdcdcd or cdecd in the sestet. 

      A Shakespearean Sonnet (also called Elizabethan or English Sonnet) is comprised of three quatrains (four-line stanzas) and one couplet, and its rhyme scheme tends to be: abad cdcd efefgg.  The closing couplet marks the Shakespearean Sonnet’s volta, or turning point.

      A Non-Traditional Sonnet is written in free-verse, which means it need not be written in an particular meter, and it most likely does not rhyme.  A non-traditional sonnet will also always still be 14 lines and contain some sort volta, or turning point, but it need not be broken into stanzas of specific length; it might not be broken into stanzas at all. 

      To enter, please review guidelines: www.poetrycenter.arizona.edu

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