It’s been a cold winter. I’ve been trying to sort out the means of my anger the way this great country taught me how. So when they turned up the air conditioning inside the interrogation room to make my blood boil I just thought; Yall should know by the grins I’ve been given, that I was born cold blooded. Ohhh!! How I laughed. Sat there staring at that mirror smirkin’ at all that I done did, and how they  think a little air conditioning gone make me cringe. The door creaks open. When I look up a man walks in too insecure to fit his cheep pinstripe suit. Oh he’s just shakin’ in his boots. He can’t see I’m handcuffed to a table?

“BOO!” He don’t even flinch. Like he saw that comin.

“ Very funny Tom. Smoke?” He pulls out the dented package of Camel Backs from his inside jacket pocket. I take one.

“Light?” I lean my head forward as he strikes the match. Fire pleases me. It reminds me of good times.  

“Those are some interesting tattoos you got there Tom. Mind telling me what they mean?” I puff out a cloud of smoke into his face. I haven’t stopped making eye contact yet.

“Never met a man who was confused by a swastika before.” I say laughin.

“Mph, I guess that’s fair. So Tom,  mind telling me why you’re here?” I look him up and down quickly.

“You tell me. I didn’t cuff myself to this table.” He looks up from the manilla folder calm and smirking.

“So, you gonna tell me or not Tom? Cause I’ve got time. and we’ve got...”

“Let me guess. My DNA is everywhere and this isn’t my first offense they’ve caught me on. Save it. Cause I know you don’t. I’m not sloppy with what I do. And I know your lying, cause you’re tappin’ your foot faster than a winning horse in a race. You see Officer.....”

“O’neil”

“O’neil, good name. Irishman. Me too as a matter of fact. You know we came over here and built this country from the ground up just as much as those gorillaz did? But we still had our skin color cause this means power.” I point at my hand proudly for him to see. I laugh.

“ You see, It always saddens me how a good white man like you shakes in his seat when he sees someone like me. Cause we’re one in the same!! Just lookin’ for a good ride you know? To feel that true white power we’ve been blessed with since birth.”

“You might be right Tom. So Why do you feel like it’s your responsibility to take care of these “Vermin.”

“I see. huh. You want a story. Just like the rest of em. You see people don’t hate me. How could they I make a good find for a story. It entertains people when they can hate or love. But people love to hate, and you best believe people love me.”

“Then give me a story Tom. If you’re so loved and hated. Spit it out.” He looks at me with dead eyes, like my fathers.

“I hate the gaps that we live in. The fact that we have to share the same grounds with animals makes me sick to my stomach. How everything shifts and changes. I remember when we looked at vermin with sideways glances like they didn’t even belong on the bottom of our shoes. The first time my father told me about purpose of the nigger I had to grit my teeth, because I learned how broken we are as a people struggling to come out on top. Cause I’ve got a whole lot of memories that make me wanna challenge the ideals of what it means to be a white man again. When daddy came home too dirty to sit from the coal mines in little stockton, indiana.

“Daddy! Can we play catch outside?”

“No, kid. Daddy’s too tired.” He always said that. While mumblin’ his frustrations of porch monkeys who shared his benches and wages and “morals!” Even way of life. The only power he had was his skin. So he used it. Every time one of those things would walk bye. He never cared much for me. Only joy he ever got out of his time was making cocktail bombs to light niggers on fire he said. And even then, he never felt like he had enough whiskey to ease himself to sleep. Momma was always waltzing with the wind anyway. Never payed me no mind. So the first time I played tag along with daddy I was ten. And boy was I excited. When you’re younger you always wanna lift up that curtain to see where your parents go, when they say “grown up stuff”. So I asked him can I come, and he said.

“Why the hell not. No son of mine is gonna grow up to be a pussy anyway so you best get on up and learn what it means to be a man.” I still can’t stand the smell of Budweiser. The way it hangs on breath like bitterness. But that’s what Daddy was. Bitter. I knew though, he was a man. And I needed to learn how to hold my head up in front of one. So we rode out in his busted up white pick-up truck. Painted with the confederate flag on the back of it. The only thing he truly loved. He drove us into town and we stopped at uncle Pat’s bar. It’s a small town. Everybody knows everybody. So when my dad walked in with his ten year old son no heads even turned. Not like now in these big cities yall have where everything is I.D’s and responsibility. We walked up to my uncle Pat wiping down the bar.

“How’s business?” Uncle Pat looks up at my dad and chuckles, like that was the dumbest question in the world. The bar was empty.

“Well this don’t help none.” When he pulled up his hand, I saw something that stuck with me for the rest of my life. His palm was covered with a black square kind of thing that was made by to separate lines that had curved with sharp edges inside of a white circle. Covered in another square that was red and bright. Like a flag.

“I told you, open hate is never no good for business. But you insisted. Always gotta be loud and proud Pat.” I hadn’t seen my dad laugh joyfully since I was five. He and Momma were dancing around the living room. It was christmas eve and I came down looking for santa.

“Hurts like a bitch too. Remind me never to get wasted with you ever again. Heyya Tommy.  Your Old man tells me you’re ready to play with the big boys now?” I always loved uncle Pat growing up. He was the only adult who had this warm feeling towards me. Like it was okay for me to be boy and not man for once.

“Yeah!! Daddy said it was time for me to learn how to be a man and I’m ready!”

“Well that’s good big guy. Cause tonight we’re meeting some friends and they know all about what it means to be a man. And it’s about time you meet them.” Uncle Pat climbed over the bar top and gave me one of his big rocket ship hugs, where he picks me up and throws me. After that he squeezes me until I can’t breathe.

“Put him down. He’s too old for that shit!” My dad hates when Uncle Pat treats me like a kid.

“Oh calm your fucking tits Lucas. The kid needs someone to love him every now and again.” I liked my dad’s name. I loved Star Wars as a kid, so I guess since his name was Luke like that Skywalker guy that maybe he could be the hero one day. He never was. Just gave me a lot of bruises and drank a lot of beer.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for pussies right now. Can we go? Have they started yet?” Uncle Pat put me down and stared at my dad for a long time before answering.

“Yeah we can go. They’ve started betting already too.”

“What round is Tommy up?”

“After Buchanico and Jackson.”

“Who’s he fighting?” Uncle Pat put on a smile that I had never seen him in before.

“ Eddie’s kid.”

“Ahhh!! yes!! that bastard has to watch while his kid gets fucking trashed. Teach him to mess with us again.”

There were only two Eddie’s in the whole town. One was Dad’s and Uncle Pat’s friend. He was fat and smelly. He didn’t have any kids. I don’t think he ever could give a woman his seed anyhow. The other one was Eddie Baxter. He owned the local Pharmacy. But his kid went to my school back then. His name was Lewis. The only nigger in our grade, so he never talked much. Still I didn’t know what they were talking about. When they started walking towards the back of the bar, there was this drop in my stomach.  I felt myself kind of weighing down trying to slow my steps. I was being a little bitch basically, is what was happening. So I gathered myself and stood up straight. Uncle Pat unclipped the keys that he always kept on his belt loop and opened this rusty steel green door, that you could only hear noise come out of when it was opened. When it was, there was this huge roaring noise of men's voices, and they were all proud. I recognised so many different faces. Friends dad’s, my teacher Mr. Shuels was there, even some of my friends who were with their dads. Like I said it’s a small town. They were all gathered around this cage that looked like a ring except there was no padding or anything it was just metal and concrete. There were no seats just men crowding behind each other screaming

“ Beat him! Beat the nigger!”

And the flag on Uncle Pats palm was hanging above the cage high. Proud. When we reached the front of the cage I saw these two boys, who were older than me. Luis Buchanico and Freddy Jackson. The men all around were waving bills in the air, no less than 20’s. Except for Freddy’s Dad in front of the cage. I have only ever seen a grown man cry twice in my life, and Freddie's Dad was the first time. His face was pressed up against the cage covered in his son's blood and these hysterical tears. Behind him Mr. Shuels was pushing his face against the cage and holding his hands behind his back. Uncle Pat was laughing hysterically.

“You see that Tommy? That’s what weakness looks like.” He wiped a tear from his face since he was laughing so hard. I remember thinking weak. Why didn’t he try to help his fucking son instead of crying like a little bitch while everyone laughed at him. But that’s what you get when you take cattle to slaughter. Freddy stopped getting back up after a while, watching him fall was surreal. His eyes didn’t match up anymore and he was looking at the ceiling and then boom he fell. This awkward exchange happened between the screaming of Freddy’s Dad there was just a wave of two different emotions. About a quarter of the bills floated out towards the center of the ring echoing with

“FUCK!” and

“Never Bet on NIGGERS”!

Others had a thrill in their voices. They were betting against who would win. You could always tell who lost. When they picked freddy off the ground I don’t remember if he was breathing. I remember his dad got lost in the crowd and was no longer being pushed up at the edge of the cage and Freddy had disappeared when I looked back up.

“Your turn kiddo.” I looked back, waiting for the voice of Uncle Pat but it wasn’t. It was my Dad. He hadn’t looked at me like that in a long time. Like he loved me. He held up a 100 dollar bill to my face and said:

“I’m betting on you.” Then something yanked my arm and I moved through the crowd of men quickly and found myself in the middle of the cage. There was this gigantic wave across the mens voices cheering. I felt tall. Like I was the strongest person in the world. Like a superhero. I then saw that cocksucker Eddie crash through the crowd and Mr. Shuels held him up against the cage just like he did with Freddy’s Dad. I looked at the concrete floor. It was bloody, but you could tell that this game was old by the stains on the concrete. Because they’re were the fresh ones from Freddy, and then others that had turned purple from being there for god knows how long. Uncle Pat Has Eddy’s kid by the neck and throws him into the ring. Eddy’s kid was a lot smaller than I was, He was fragile. Not like Freddy’s boy who was a football player and had a much bigger build. He was just skin and bone. they tore our shirts off and a bell rang. The men started screaming, this blood curdling scream from a crowd. And the little shit in front of me was shaking. He had fucking pissed his pants, and you could tell that he was holding back tears in his eyes.

“HIT THE LITTLE PORCH MONKEY!!”

“Yeah do it KIDDO!!”

“PUNCH HIM IN THE GUT!”

“KNOCK HIM OUT!”

I could hear my dad through all those voices, so I hit his face as hard as I could and he went tumbling down quicker than anything I’ve ever seen. He stood back up and his mouth was bleeding. And the entire side of his face was blown up like a balloon. He was barely standing, when I heard the voices again. So I clocked him in his face as hard as I could and I watched him go down screaming, and I kept hitting him over and over, And it felt good. You never know power until you watch someone worthless completely collapse beneath you. When I got up the bell rang. I looked at Eddy’s Dad with his face pressed up against the cage. That was the second time I watched a grown man cry.”

“Do you love your father?” Officer O’neil hadn’t moved. I forgot he was there for a while actually. I felt like I had just woken back up.

“What!?”

“ Do you, Thomas Gibson Love your father?” He staggered his words like my fucking father did before he hit me with his drunken hands. Like I was stupid.

“YES! The fuck kind of question is that? He taught me how to be a man. How to walk How to speak. And those fucking koons got what they deserved. Cold and hard on a platter for taking our place in the world. Like we didn’t fucking Own it!!” Shit! He sees it now. Never go vulnerable in an interrogation, ever. I do love my father no one will ever deny me that ever!! He was the only person who would ever love me.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He had this smile on his face like he knew he had me, I was losing the game. I don’t care if I go to jail. But I sure as hell won’t go a pussy. I’m giving them a story. People love a good documentary about someone they should hate.

Breathe, I have to breathe.

“No.” I say calmly catching my breath.

“So mind telling me why you did it Tom?” I’m still a little out of it. Forgot where I was who I was with. If you’ve ever lost control you know. How weak you feel. How everyone uncovers those dirty little secrets.

“How I torched the Nigger? Or skinned him? Which one do you prefer?”

“Well I’ve only got the one you burned sitting here. But you’re welcome to tell me about either one.” I lean forward over my cuffs and get close to his face.

“I would do it all again.” He stops. Leans back into his chair trying to hold his breath. I watch him get up and walk out. I know what he’s going to do now.Like all the others, he’ll ask for a new detective because they don’t know why they feel sorry for me. Everyone is a sucker for a good story.  So I stare through the mirror where they watch me from. I smile. Pretend like I have control between my teeth, when I know that I hated my father. That he was the first time I killed someone, and it felt good.

The sprinkle of water with the warmth of the sun washed away the dirt on his skin. The dirt of the mud from practice. Football games were always a battle ground. A field filled with large men running and shoving each other to the ground. Nothing laid in the head besides the idea of victory and looking good in front of others that stand before them. Being the man in the game. Being the man in everything. Its all that he had trained for, to be the best man, to be the strong man, to be a man. Now, he stood six feet, two inches tall, a three hundred pound moving body of muscle. He looks perfect. People thinks he is perfect. He is perfect.

His face placed under the shower head, he closes his eyes. There was a feeling of impending interest. Something he couldn’t deny but tried to. He needed explanations for these feelings or he felt that these emotions needed a cure. There was no way he could just walk out of that room and ignore all these feelings. Being a young adult now, he thought he knew himself. But now confusion took over his whole existence. He knew people that had these feeling and came out to the world with them. He never understood those people. He had made remarks in public and laughed about those people.

There was a specific time he remembered. It was during a party in his high school years. One of his friend, a popular boy like him, came out of the closet. Everyone in the school seemed to be talking about him. Before he came out of the closet, all the other boys in the school wanted to be his friends. They just thought he was so cool. However, the next day when the news of his sexuality came out, things took a big turn. Opening his eyes to try not to think any further. The reflection of himself through the white tiles stared back at him.

Slowly, he inhaled the air and exhaled his emotions, twice. Looking straight into the reflection of his eyes, he started to speak.

“James? I’m with you. I’m sorry... I’m sorry I was with those guys laughing. I, this critic, this shameless, this monster, am sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t know anything back then, I didn’t know myself. Call me nameless, I don’t deserve an identity for what I’ve said and done before. The guys I hanged out with, they were horrible, they will probably never learn to become someone as strong and awesome as you… No one understood about the type of life you lived during that time. No one! Their brains, my brain, were all sized down to a piece of nail, when it came to your situation. Yes, the earth was created for an atmosphere where every man could stand freely. But I’m sorry we made you cripple in fear.”

As his frustration built, dark clouds grew bigger above him. His thoughts balled up a feeling of uncertainty. He could not stop these thoughts from rolling through him.

“Urghhh! Why do I feel this way? Man!” He thought to himself. Am I gay?  

The mist of the boiling water fogged up the mirror, the windows, the whole room, as he stood under the showering water, thinking.

“All those dirty looks, the scowling faces, the whispers of cutting words behind his back. Man! What were we all thinking?” The faint memory came back. He thought about how James’s friends and his best friends talked behind his back, including himself. He wasn’t James’s best buddy from the beginning, he knew that. However, they did consider each other as friends back when James didn’t announce he was gay and back when this infuriated, this nameless, this thought to be crazy person tried to figure out a part of himself.

There was a day which he clearly still remembered. It was about two days after James had said to everyone that he was gay. The news was fresh and it was the number one mostly talked about topic. Justin, one of James’s friend, started the conversation. “Its so hard to believe James is gay. I never would’ve expected it from a dude like him. Its weird, he’s weird. It just doesn’t suit him at all.” Every member in the circle jumped to say what they had to say. They all had their own remarks. Just knowing that James was gay, they categorized him. They put him down in the back of their head. They put him down in the back of their head just like this monster, this nameless person did.

A couple weeks after the hot topic news, James had made new friends. It seemed that he had gathered himself with people that understood him. Although that was true, there was a speck of feeling where James was still not fully accepted into that new society, nameless felt it in his guts and he still remembers that feeling. This specific, unpleasant feeling is what dreads him.

The hurtful intended rumors he had spreaded with the judgemental words were his pass. They were based off of his thoughts in the pass. The pass where he was a different person, or thought he was a different person at least. Now, it’s going to be a new story.

“My name is Robert Hardrick.”

Aaron Tang

Q2 #7

Emily tiene diez años. Ella tiene curando de la lepra y vive de Recife de Brasil. La organización fue a cuarenta y dos escuelas, diez y seis miles niños y setenta miles familias. Una mujer habló de enfermedades. Ellos se celebra Diá Mundial de la lepra en veinte y seis de enero. Muchas personas tienen lepra en África y China donde hay ciento ochenta y dos miles . En dos mil dos, hay dos ciento y diez miles las personas tienen lepra en Brasil, India y otra compos.

Aaron Tang

Q2 #6

Los niños duermen tarde a las dos de la mañana. Ellos leen las noticias en facebook.  La sicóloga clínica habló a los adultos sobre sus sueños.  Los adultos tienen mucho trabajo porque cuidan de la familia. En el artículo dijo “entre ellas: concentración, memoria, creatividad y tolerancia, por mencionar algunas.” La gente tiene mucha tensión. Las personas no saben cómo dormir pero es difícil. Hay algunas ideas que ayuden. Las personas pueden escuchar música, leer un libro o tomar un baño. Ellos deben apagar el teléfono y trabajan de algo.

No me gusta insomnia porque yo tengo escuela al día proximo. Yo voy a dormir temprano, pero yo juego videojuegos. También, yo tengo mucho tarea. No puedo dormir temprano porque es difícil dormir en diez de la noche. Yo pienso Los estudiantes duermen hasta tarde porque no hacen tarea.  Yo uso instagram y snapchat. Cuando voy a dormir, escuchar música en Pandora. Mi familia támbien pueden dormir tarde. Al día, yo quiero dormir en clase, pero yo tengo mucho trabajo. Los fines de semana, voy a dormir durante doce horas. Voy a casa a las siete de la noche. Yo como la cena y luego hacer mi tarea. Tengo que dormir temprano y tengo que hacer mi tarea.

Josh Berg

Bias as an Entity

Even to the most well-read, the idea of bias in history textbooks from which we pull a lot of our information, is a controversial and disputable topic. Many people cling to the ideas that they learned from these books. Others cast them away as if they are worth nothing and nothing can be obtained from them, not even a moral lesson. Some cases are far more extreme than others. People who feel that they have been lied to by their textbook learning have gone to great lengths to let others know about this issue. Others on the opposite side have done the same: "The Japanese textbook authorisation system has the so-called "neighbouring country clause" which means that textbooks have to show understanding in their treatment of historical events involving neighbouring Asian countries. It is just ridiculous," said Nobukatsu Fujioka, a denier of the Nanking Massacre. People have very strong feelings regarding the issue of misinformation and bias in books of learning. It is impossible to write from a completely objective standpoint. That being said, it is possible to be aware of biases. It is important to be aware of places where the author of a text may show inaccurate information and gloss over certain events or information because of their biases. Bias is present everywhere in the world, but can do us little harm if we know our own biases and those of others.

It feels bad to be lied to or misinformed, that said there is a more material, surface level issue than feeling bad. The fact of the matter is that our younger years are some of the most impressionable years that will shape the rest of our lives. Having very important details changed around and bent to the will of others, to achieve some twisted agenda can often take a toll on us. Our beliefs for the rest of our small existences can be affected if our intellectual food is poisoned at an early age. Think; of it as a poison. Feed your baby rat poison with every meal during his early life and he will surely be a sickly baby and a sickly adult. The same goes for your child’s intellectual nourishment.

There have been some very prominent cases of people concerned with the quality and truth of the classic literary textbook. There have been two particularly prominent issues of misrepresentation that could be considered one in their connection. A criteria for being an example was that the issue(s) had to have some retaliation against it/them. There has been an upset amongst many of the Japanese because of what they feel is a general misrepresentation of their history in Japanese textbooks. This misrepresentation is generally in the sections that could contain information about acts of war, atrocities and crimes. A teacher in Japan noticed the subordination of these type of events to mere footnotes. Another example of this diminishing of important events is present in how textbooks address the issue of “comfort women”. Comfort women were essentially a prostitution corps made up of unwilling women created by the Imperial Army of Japan. Unfortunately a dark, important and revealing issue like this is glossed over in textbooks. There have also been issues with Japanese textbooks shady handling of affairs involving China, which the Chinese have been less than thrilled about. There have also been issues in Chinese textbooks, so neither nation is innocent. The same facts are taught on the other extreme in China. When it comes to Japanese war crimes, no detail is spared about the awful things that happened. There has also been an outcry over misrepresentation of facts about the Nanking Massacre. There have been claims on both sides. China does not cut any corners in terms of teaching about the things that have happened during the Massacre, while some people in Japan claim that pictures of the event have been fabricated by the Chinese. Others would even go as far as to fully deny the occurrence of the Massacre. There is so much being disagreed upon, it is difficult to imagine one side being right.

These are events of the past. It isn’t that these events are not over, although there are times when the masses are lied to about current affairs. Governments are like people but on a large scale, not only because there is more than one person in most governments. They are large in the way that they are a hyperbole of a normal person. Everyone wants to present themselves in a good way, but governments take it to an extreme in how they and the politicians that make them up rarely acknowledge that they have ever made a mistake. No politician will talk about their biases. Bias is a Huge imperfection that shapes how the world turns.

You don’t have to censor war crimes in order to convey information in a biased fashion. Bias is an invisible thing that you can see everywhere. Jackie Robinson, the first black baseball player. Woodrow Wilson, a progressive leader. Misinformation isn’t always conveyed intentionally. Unintentional presentation of misinformation doesn’t make it any less harmful. You could argue that scientific textbooks with their semi-objectively true facts could be considered biased. There may be a hidden agenda lurking in every fact we read. The author may not even know about their hidden agenda. It is important to be able to see the bias in the world, and accept its existence. Be aware of situations where someone may have ulterior motives, but also see the value in biases. Our biases make us individuals. This is not to say that we should not try to remedy our biases, but we must acknowledge the fact that we and everyone else will never be completely free from our biases. Our biases can do us very little harm if we are aware of them and notice them regularly. Look at the way that we look at things, and we will be able to look at and see much more.

Works Cited:

Oi, Mariko. "What Japanese History Lessons Leave out." BBC News. BBC, 14 Mar. 2013. Web. 14 Jan. 2014. <http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21226068>.

French, Howard W. "China's Textbooks Twist and Omit History." The New York Times. The New York Times, 6 Dec. 2004. Web. 16 Jan. 2014. <http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/06/international/asia/06textbook.html?_r=0>.

"Statement by the Chief Cabinet Secretary Yohei Konoon the Result of the Study on the Issue of "comfort Women"" MOFA: Statement by the Chief Cabinet Secretary Yohei Kono on the Result of the Study on the Issue of "comfort Women" MOFA, 4 Aug. 1993. Web. 21 Jan. 2014. <http://www.mofa.go.jp/policy/women/fund/state9308.html>.

Loewen, James W. Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996. Print.

A man rushed through the door and walked briskly toward the steps leading to where Nebuchadnezzar sat in his throne. The man kneeled and tilted his head down. He heard a powerful, booming voice. “You may rise” Nebuchadnezzar said. The man stood and announced “Your conquest of Judea has been successful”. Nebuchadnezzar looked pleased. To conquer Judah was not his original intention, but eventually, it became clear that in order to capture the Egyptian Army, they would need to get through the Judeans. The city of Jerusalem was held under siege longer than expected and Nebuchadnezzar had grown anxious for its destruction. “Good” Nebuchadnezzar said. “Do you have the slaves?” “Yes sir.” the man said. He yelled and the doors to the throne room burst open once again. Two lines of slaves, none of them particularly strong looking, walked into the throne room in chains and tattered clothing. All of the Judean soldiers and strong men would be used to build monuments and other massive structures. These slaves were here to serve the King, Nebuchadnezzar.

Cheers burst forth from the crowds. The people of Babylonia adored Nebuchadnezzar. He had completely rebuilt the Empire and had turned Babylon into a thriving city-state like it once was when Hammurabi was king. Nebuchadnezzar smiled and waved. He loved his people. Even many of the ones whom he had conquered he had also come to love. As he walked through the busy streets of Babylon, he could not get the face of one particular slave out of his mind. He was a new slave, a Judean, who had been assigned to serve Nebuchadnezzar his wine. As Nebuchadnezzar’s cup was being filled the night before, he caught a glance from the slave; a look of disgust that unsettled the King like nothing else before. As Nebuchadnezzar thought of this slave’s look and the feeling that it brought, he grew confused. Nebuchadnezzar was a warrior at heart. He had killed many men and looked into their eyes which were raging with anger, as he did so. Why was this slave’s look of anger and disgust particularly bothersome to a person who had experienced much worse hatred? As he walked, the question kept popping into Nebuchadnezzar’s head. He called to his attendant “I want all of my house slaves lined up in the throne room when we get back”. “Yes, sir” his attendant said. As Nebuchadnezzar began to think about this slave again, he could hear his attendant yelling orders at a messenger in the background.

Nebuchadnezzar slowly walked up the palace steps surrounded by guards. He continued thinking about this slave whose face had been stuck in his head for nearly a day now. When he reached the palace doors, the guards opened them for him. In his throne room, on either side, his slaves stood perfectly still. After Nebuchadnezzar settled, he walked up and down his throne room, carefully looking for the slave whose face had fixed itself in his memory. He asked a slave “What is your name?”. “Arishaka” the slave replied. “Where are you from?” the King asked. “I am an Assyrian”. This was not the slave he was looking for. Nebuchadnezzar looked disappointed. He turned around. Nebuchadnezzar was startled. He saw the slave as though he had appeared out of thin air. “What is your name?” “Benjamin” replied the slave. This was a name that stood out to Nebuchadnezzar. Even though the language of the Judeans and Babylonians were very similar, somehow there names were very different. “Where are you from?” Nebuchadnezzar asked. “Judea” the slave replied. Nebuchadnezzar was obviously satisfied. The King dismissed everybody from his throne room.

Media and society have a lot of news reports and people usually believe them. Sometimes people do not have any proof if someone is guilty or not, but they still think they are. Whatever people in the media say, on television or even on the radio people believe it. It looks like what is happening it should be true in the world, but it does not always have to be true. The media encourages to be biased by judging people without knowing their life background, and also discriminates against people by assaulting them of doing something without any proof.  

In the documentary, “The Central Park Five”, people give their opinion about this case where a woman that was jogging was murdered and raped. There were also problems in society as well. According to historian, Craig Steven Wilder, "We were a city coming out of a series of crises and an enormous economic crisis. A school system that was in collapse; Political institutions that seemed to be failing the people  and not meeting their needs; Old, fashionable, beautiful, noble neighborhoods falling apart." People in New York City could see how their economy changed. Their school system and institutions changed for worse, and people did not get things they need. In other words everything started to fall apart. It was not a good thing because people did not care after a while what was happening around, if they already got used to it. Whenever we do not get our needs things change. People need to feel safe in their city and have something that is important to live.

Adults were not just the only ones that could be involved in the crime, teenagers could also have to do with it, but it all started when crack came to the city. According to Koch, "In about '84, crack came to New York City and that increased crime. No questions about it." After crack came to New York City people realized that crime was increasing. After using crack people’s mind change. They started to become angry and they could not control it because of the drugs.

Usually people can not stop themselves because the drug is kind of controlling them. Websites show what percent of people used crack back then versus now. According to a website about using drugs, “According to government surveys, eight percent of high school seniors reported using cocaine at least once during their lifetime. This is markedly lower than the peak of 17 percent for the senior class of 1985.” Now, people do not use crack as much as they did in 1985. It is actually a big difference. In ‘84 people used a lot of crack and that is why there was more crime. Most of teenagers used it, which shows how this affected their society, and also how their school systems changed.

After crack was in the city a lot of things changed. People were blamed for crime, and other things too. According to Wilder, "Most of the homicides were young, poor, working class black and brown kids. And the dominant social message was no one cared if you lived or died.” People believed that black and brown kids were the ones that were guilty, even though there was no proof. "When the crack wars happen, all of a sudden teenagers have lots of cash and guns. ... We were supposed to be afraid. It would have been irrational not to be afraid. But the people who suffered most with the rise of criminality, guns wars, drug wars, were actually the people we blamed." Crack was not a good thing for New York City. It made it look bad and people started to do things they never did before. It was really easy for people to change if they saw others use crack, especially teenagers. Teenagers are the ones that will have an impact on the future. If they use crack for a certain time, younger kids will follow them and use crack too. This is not what we want our future to be. We want our society to be safe.

When it comes to race discrimination there are a lot of people starting arguments, and all of society is kind of divides into different parts. They call each other names, and then blame each other for crime. According to Calvin Butts, "As far as I'm concerned, in the late eighties in New York City, the black community was under assault. "The most endangered species in America," that was a popular phrase, was the young black man." In the late eighties people mostly blamed  African American people for crime. They called them ‘the most endangered species in America’. I do not think people should call each other names because this is how everything starts. They blame each other and after that race discrimination starts, and people flight. This is not how our society should look like. We should respect each other. We can not just blame someone without any proof.

Back then there was a lot of murders  According to Jim Dwyer, "In those days, there were probably 6 murders a day." People did not pay attention to all of them, but this one was different.” Because back then they blamed African Americans for doing any crime, they assaulted black community for crime cases. They accused them because they were in a park at that time. They did not have any evidence that showed police they did it. They made them believe by saying the truth what happened that day, and then they will go home. They actually thought if they say the truth they will go home, but that did not happen. They actually were blamed for it and stayed in jail for a good few years. After they went through other papers and DNA they found a person who actually did it. He said he did it and after that happened, people wish they knew that before they made five other men blamed.

According to the news report called International Business Times, “In 2003, Richardson, Santana and McCray filed a lawsuit against the City of New York for malicious prosecution, racial discrimination and emotional distress, 27east.com said.” What media did back then was judging people, and discriminate them especially African Americans after crack came. It was not right to do that because everyone has rights, and just because crack came to New York people should not judge them. Also on the other website, news report they talked about after they came out of the jail, “On Facebook and Twitter, where Salaam said he communicated with the four men he still refers to as his "co-defendants" and with other friends on Friday, several expressed surprise, joy and something else. He said that some, including individuals who do not live in New York City, closed their tweets, retweets and Facebook posts with the words, "John Liu for Mayor." After the whole case finished a lot of people were happy. Their families believed them they are not guilty. People on different kinds of websites posted things about that case. Rumors start like that. People post things online and then change words around and it is totally different, then a statement was said before.

None of us wants media to change things around and make a different statement about us. We all should respect each other and not blame people around us without any proof. Everyone is different and just because something came to a city like crack back then, does not mean all African American community needs to be assaulted. Americans could use crack too and be guilty for crime too. There should be no discrimination around the world because it causes wars and fights. We all want our city and world to be safe, and feel safe.

Sources:

1. Documentary “The Central Park Five”

2. "Cocaine and Crack Facts." And Effects. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Jan. 2014.

<http://www.drugpolicy.org/drug-facts/cocaine-and-crack-facts>

3. "Central Park Five." NY Daily News. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Jan. 2014.

<http://www.nydailynews.com/services/central-park-five>

4. "Central Park Five Lawsuit: New York City Mayor-Elect Bill De Blasio 

Agrees To Settle Decade-Long Case Over Wrongful Convictions." International Business Times. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Jan. 2014.

<http://www.ibtimes.com/central-park-five-lawsuit-new-york-city

mayor-elect- bill-de-blasio-agrees-settle-decade-long-case>

5. Ross, Janell. "John Liu Urges Central Park Five Settlement, Becoming First New York City Elected Official To Do So." The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 04 Jan. 2013. Web. 22 Jan. 2014.

If you just look around you will see an ad, on the computer, on your phone, on the radio, you name it, there’s an ad there. As a young woman living in this world where not very many people are satisfied with how they look or what they have, it’s hard to stray away from bias. Whether it’s subconscious or not, just by looking at an ad I have a bias toward it, either positive or negative, but once I see the details I’m not so intrigued anymore. The pressure as the mannequins stare down at you while you walk by the store, the confident feeling you get when you see the huge red sale signs as you peer at the shirt you’ve wanted for months now, and the thought of having a bag filled with new things is just enough to make a person go into a store. Finding out the truth is the downfall.

I took two IATs one showed that I had a slight bias toward European American children as opposed to African American children, while the other showed that I had little to no preference between old and young people. I didn’t know that I had a bias toward European American people, because I am around both races all the time. The race test showed that I have a bias, but I am not entirely certain what kind of bias it was referring to.

The race test showed my bias toward European American children, by seeing how quickly I was able to press a key when the positive words were associated with European American kids as opposed to African American kids. This made me realize how many biases I associate with certains people, not just race. When you walk down the street, you see so many people, and no two look the same. Without realizing it you associate one person with a certain group and another person with another group. I personally try to stay away from men that make vulgar comments, or anyone that is loud on the subway. I associate those people with negativity and being rowdy.

My mom always tells me to either sit near the driver, or near a woman who has a child or children with her when I am by myself on the subway.She and I both assume that someone who has children is less likely to bother me or anyone on the train. If I am near the driver, if anything happens, the man or woman would see it. I feel safer when the subway is quieter, like later in the afternoon when not very many high school students are on it making tons of noise. I also feel less comfortable when I am the only white person on the train, because I don’t like any attention to be on me, or to stand out at all.

I also have a bias toward clothes, and associate what people wear to what I think their personalities are. If somebody is dressed with a similar style to me, I assume that person and I would probably get along, whereas someone who dresses in clothes that present themselves in a way I wouldn’t quite feel comfortable, I would think that they had a personality that I would not get along with. When I see someone in a business suit or dress clothes I tend to feel safer around them. I don’t know why, I just do. That is just one of the many biases that I have in associating people with a certain group, without getting to know them, based solely on outward appearance.

Like I stated before, the age IAT showed that I have little to no bias when it comes to young or old. The test was the same as the race test, I had to type a certain letter for positive words and either older or younger people, then they changed the associations around on me. I did the same or slightly different when they changed it around. I wasn’t surprised by these results, because I feel comfortable around all ages. I have more bias based on looks rather than age. The test also asked questions about how old I felt, what age I wanted to be and what age people think I look. I think that my responses to those questions helped determine that I didn’t really have a bias, because for some responses I stated a younger age, and other responses I stated an older age, so the answers showed that I didn’t associate being old or being young with negative words.

I have biases toward trendy clothes, but I won’t overpay for them. I am easily drawn to try on outfits, or shoes, or anything else that catches my eye, but I don’t dive into getting whatever it is until I know the details. A big part of advertising is propaganda, and making the viewer believe they are getting a better deal than they actually are. Again, I have a bias toward the way something looks or how I look. I like to project an image of who I am. It might be comfy sweatpants one day, and a dress and heels another, but I want the way I look to represent me.

We can’t escape bias no matter where we get it from. It may be from our parents, or from an ad we see walking to school. It isn’t something that is good or bad, sometimes, it just is. Bias is something that is natural. Without even thinking about it your brain associates one thing with another. Its not until you analyze your own bias that you realize how hard it is to escape it.

Will (Guillermo) Amari

Q2

Señorita Manuel

La invención de Hugo, el Scorsese más mágico

Yo tengo nunca ir al cine y miró el filme, Hugo por Martin Scorsese. Pero los críticos dije Hugo con muy bien. Yo estoy un gran fan de Martin Scorsese. Él es un buen director de cine. Mi favoritas películas por él es Goodfellas, Raging Bull y Taxi Driver. Todos las películas son con el actor, Robert DeNiro. Él y Martin Scorsese son buenos amigos. Robert DeNiro tiene un Oscar por Raging Bull. Martin Scorsese tiene un Oscar por su película el Departed. Para mi, ellos son las mejor.

El artículo es aproximadamente Hugo, Martin Scorsese's mágico filme que es puro y inocente. No es como sus películas sobre la mafia y las drogas. Hugo es diferente de Goodfellas y su nuevo filme llamada, El Lobo de Wall Street. Hugo es sobre la historia de un niño que es un huérfano y su vida. Él es un trabajador de relojes en la ciudad de París. No es una película por sólo niños, adultos puede miro también.

Yo no quiero examinar la película Hugo. Porque que es aburrido para mí. Que es por que yo leí el artículo. Yo estoy fascinado con películas. Ellos tienen buenas historias. Hugo sin embargo, no interesa mí y hay que respetar mi decisión. Es cómico todos el mundo dije me, "Ir al cine, buscar Hugo!" Yo quiero buscar El Lobo de Wall Street. El artículo compara El Lobo de Wall Street con Hugo. Un es más puro. Un es más loco.

Palabras: 254

http://spanish.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=spanish&cdn=education&tm=192&f=10&su=p284.13.342.ip_&tt=2&bt=1&bts=1&zu=http%3A//www.abc.es/

Jim walked through the doors with a big smile on his face. He felt confident and prepared. He was up half the night finishing the outline for the advertisement. He normally wouldn’t have worked so hard on an outline, but he felt that this particular one deserved the effort. After all, this wasn’t just any ordinary advertisement he and his firm were creating. This wasn’t just an ad for some stupid product or service, like a kitchen appliance, or a cell phone plan. No, this ad was for something that mattered. This ad was for a company that helped homeless children in America. This was an ad for something that helped people, and did good things for society. This was why Jim went into advertising in the first place, to help create advertisements that helped the world (Ways of Seeing).

Jim was working with his collaborators on creating an advertisement which they would later pitch to the company that was helping the kids. Today he was going to meet with his colleagues and put the ad together. His job had been to design the basic format and layout of the add. His colleagues had other responsibilities, such as picking the images they would use, and putting the soundtrack together. They were going to compare ideas to put this ad together. The elevator arrived on the tenth floor. Jim got out and walk over to the conference room. When he opened the door he found that the others were already inside. His co-workers Milo and Chris were waiting for him.

“ Hey Jim,” said Milo, “ How are you?”

“ Good,” Jim replied.

“ Good, well let’s get down to business. What’s your idea for the layout of the ad?”

Jim eagerly pitched his idea for the layout. He told them what the ad would say, and how it would say it. He emphasized using a sad tone of voice and describing how much these poor kids suffered.

“ This will play to people’s sympathy” he said confidently. “ They will see how sad these kids are, but then we’ll tell them how they can help, and then we show some smiling happy kids or something to show how happy their donation will make someone. They will see themselves as the answer to the problem, when really their individual donations do so little in the long run.”

Chris and Milo both liked the layout; they agreed that it was effective and persuasive. Chris was in charge of creating the soundtrack for the add. He played some sad music, and then some happy upbeat music at the end. Jim and Milo agreed that this really set the mood and the feeling that this ad was trying to create. Then it was Milo’s turn. Milo was in charge of picking out the images of sad and happy homeless children that the ad would use. He showed them a slide show of many photographs of little kids.

“Obviously this is too many images to put in the add.” he said “I was hoping that we could pick out the ones we want.”

“Yes, there are a few that I think should definitely be in this ad,” Jim said. Then he went over to Milo’s laptop and copied all of the photos that he liked and put them in a separate folder. “I think that these kids will really pull at people’s heart strings, and make them want to donate.”

Milo looked at the images that Jim had selected. His face was placid and expressionless. After looking through them he paused, thought for a moment, then looked at

them once more. “I noticed that all of the photos you liked were of caucasian children,” he

pointed out.

Suddenly Jims face looked serious, like he had just been accused of some sort of crime “What are you implying Milo?,” Jim asked “Are you implying that I am a racist who thinks that white kids deserve help more than minorities? Because that’s not what I think. It’s just that I think that these particular kids will make people feel sorry for them, and want to help.”

“Because they’re white” said Milo.

Jim sighed. “Look, Milo. I personally don’t care what race kids are, but let’s face it, that’s not how the rest of the world sees it. This ad will be shown in a predominantly white community, and therefore these images will appeal more to the public.

“I’m just worried that it’s a little bit racist. After all, most of the homeless kids in America are African American .” Milo informed him.

“ Look, it doesn’t matter whether or not the ad is racist, what matters is if it is effective (America’s Youngest Outcasts). I’ve looked at some statistics. 90% percent of the local population is white. White kids will appeal more to them.” Jim stated

“I just worry that this ad may be a little offensive,” said Milo.

“I don’t think many black people will mind. I mean look at Chris, he’s black and he thinks that these images are ok,” Jim pointed out, “Right Chris?

Chris paused for a moment, thinking about what to say. Finally he spoke, “Actually I do think that we should include a few photos of African American kids. We have some images of black kids that I think could be very effective. Look at this photo. This poor little guy is only about three years old. He’s the youngest one we’ve got. I think that his age will make people feel sorry for him.

Jim examined the photo. “He is very young, but I just don’t think he’s that cute. People will want to help cute little kids. Look at this one. See this little blonde-haired girl? Doesn’t she just have the cutest little blue eyes?

“While your definition of cute pertains to little blonde-haired blue eyed white girls, others may find black children just as cute,” Milo pointed out.

Jim started to get frustrated. He wasn’t a racist, and he didn’t like that he was beginning to come off as one. It wasn’t his fault that this was how the world was. It wasn’t his fault that the people of this town would relate better to a little white kid that resembled their own children. “I don’t think that white kids are any cuter than black kids,” he stated “But the rest of this town feels differently than I do. We have to face fact and play to the interests of the people. That’s how advertising works. We spread products, services, and ideas to the people by pertaining to their needs. We find out what they like and we give it to them. It’s how things and ideas are created. It’s how advertising, and spreading products and ideas shapes the world.”

Milo looked at Jim and said, “The thing is Jim, I just don’t think that you’re giving the people of this town enough credit, This town isn’t the same as it was twenty or thirty years ago when you moved here. People have changed. There is more racial equality, and I believe that they will want to help homeless children of color, just as much as white children.”

Jim was annoyed. Milo and Chris just didn’t understand advertising. He had been in the business longer than them. He knew how to appeal to people’s interests. But, they were too stubborn to agree with him. If they wanted to show images that wouldn’t work as well in the ad, then that was fine with him.

“Let’s leave it up to the charity people. We’ll make two ads, one with my images and one with yours. We’ll see which one they like best. I have some work to get done, good bye.”

“Good bye,” said Milo, “And may the best ad win.”

Sources

1. "America’s Youngest Outcasts: State Report Card on Child Homelessness."Familyhomelessness.org. National Center on Family Homelessness, n.d. Web. 14 Jan. 2014. <http://www.homelesschildrenamerica.org/pdf/report_cards/long/fl_long>.

2. Ways of Seeing. Dir. John Berger. 1972. Online Video.

*Ring* Ring*

I pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi this is Nathaniel Archibald, from the Boston Review, I’m calling for Ms. Bolton.”

“This is she.”

“Good, we have some good news about the job you interviewed for the other day... You got the job and we would like you to start on Monday.”

“Oh that’s great! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Bolton. We are looking forward to seeing you Monday morning.”

“See you then.”

*Click*

*Click*

Monday Morning

My alarms are set for 6 am. I have to be there by 9 am. This gives me three hours, it takes a half hour to get there. If I take the bus and leave by 8:15 I will have time to spare. I take a shower and blow out my hair and put on makeup. I spend 20 minutes picking out the right outfit.

I have never been so excited to start a new job. It has been a while since I worked at job I liked. The last time was probably when I was in high school and I got a job a the pizza parlor where the cute senior worked. This new job is better than the best. I’m the new writer for the Boston Review. This is what I have dreamed about since I was a little girl.

I have my coffee and am out the door. I’m so ready for this day. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. The Buses are packed with men and women in their suits and nice shoes. Everybody is on their phones reading the latest news. I see one guy reading the Boston Review. To think in less than a week my name will be on these people’s papers, they will be reading my articles, that I wrote. The idea almost made me miss my stop. I jump off the bus, the streets are packed, but I nudge my way through. I see the building. I stand and stare. 36th Floor, suite 309.

When I get up there the receptionist calls someone and tells them I’m here. He tells me to sit and wait. I people watch. I watch people running around with clip boards and binders filled with papers. Everything is so energetic. It’s so alive. I snap out of my trans when I hear someone calling my name. It’s a tall man wearing a suit and tie, he gestures for me to come with him.

“Hi Ms.Bolton, I’m Tom Bradshaw, you can follow me this way.”  

I feel like a little kid in a candy store. Looking in all the offices. Seeing all the people hard at work. This is me. I am a part of this. I am this. For the first time in a long time, I’m really motivated to do the right thing. We stop in front of an office with my name on it. My name, is in gold letters on a black plaque. It was mesmerizing.

“This is your office, Ms. Bolton.”

It had a window and everything. It was picturesque.

“And I believe your first assignment is on your desk. You will be covering the school shut down in Cambridge.”

“Thank you so much, I will get started right away.”

Mr. Bradshaw walks away. I sit down at the desk and look through the file. I look through my new @bostonreview email. I have an email from an unknown name telling me that the rental car was waiting for me outside and that I should pick up the keys from the secretary. I assume that they want me to go get a closer look. I call the school to set up a tour. The most important thing they tell you in journalism classes is to never tell the people that you are interviewing that you are a reporter.. When people know they are getting interviewed it makes the whole experience a lot less realistic. So I told them I was a prospective parent.

When I get to the school it is almost empty, there were maybe 10 kids per class. Every student in a black blazer, girls in skirts, boys in slacks, both in white shirts with red ties. It was a very classy school. After the half hour tour, we were taken to a large bulletin board with all the students biographies. I couldn’t help but notice that every single one of these kids that went here were children to either famous or political parents. I thought I had enough for my story. I sat down and started to write.

 Many have heard of the school closings in the city and country but some of the schools making the biggest noise maybe should be the ones to be shut down. I recently took a visit to the 2nd most prestigious K-12 school, the Elizabeth Banks School. It is one of the many getting closed in the Boston area. With an annual tuition of 24,000 a year it does not seem like such a tragedy if it does get closed down. There are currently 100 kids in the entire school, the smallest school on record for this area.

The piece goes on with the many reasons why the school should be closed because they don’t meet the requirement for students, so on and so forth. I dropped it off on the editor’s desk that night before going home.  

I had slept easy that night. Proud of my achievements. I had written my first article. The next day I woke up proud. There was a different kind of bounce in my step that day. I got to the office and started researching my next article.

*Knock* *Knock*

There was a knock on my door, I look up from my computer. It is the head editor of the paper.

“Oh. Hello Mr. Smith”

“Hello Ms. Bolton”

“Please come in, sit down”

“Thank you, but I won’t be staying long.”

“Is something the matter? Did you not like my piece on the clossing of the schools?”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, it is just that I’m not sure this is the right message we want to send to our readers.”

“I’m sorry I don’t think I understand. You told me to write an opinion piece and I did.”

“Yes and it is a great opinion, but I just think that maybe you should write for the opinion of our readers… not your own.”

“Are you telling me you want me to lie?”

“No not lie. Never that.”

There was a long pause.

“This company was started by my family years ago. It was passed down from generation to generation. It started off as just a little paper nobody would ever read, but then it blossomed and it was sold by the hundreds everyday. But the times have changed. People aren’t reading the newspaper anymore, it is all about the online stuff. The only people that read our paper are old men who drink their coffee and read their paper every morning because they don’t know how to work a computer.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, he smiled.

“Do you know what I mean? We have to keep our readers happy.”

“You want me to tell them what they want to hear.”

“Exactly! I knew you were a smart one, that’s why we hired you.”

It boggled my mind to think about what Mr.Smith had just said. When I became a journalist it was because I liked to write about current events. I wanted people to hear my opinions, but now it seems like that isn’t actually what is going to happen. I have two choices, quit and try to find a job that will let me write what I think is true but the chances of that may be slim, or keep my job and twist stories for the rest of my life into what the upper class of the Boston area wants to hear.

I would have the power as someone of the press that would be able to change the way people look at things by giving bias information just so they would buy and read our paper.  

Sauerbraten Meatballs (James’ Great-Grandmother’s Recipe)(Also Henry’s new adopted Great-Grandmother’s Recipe):

1 ½ ground chuck (I use 1 lb. gr. turkey and ½ lb. gr. beef)

Mix with onion, 1 egg, s & p

¼ c. bread crumbs - ⅓ c. milk

Make small patties, about 3” across and thicker than a hamburger.

Brown well in little oil.

Remove patties - In same pan make sauce-

⅓ c. Vinegar - 1 ½ cups water - few bay leaves 10 or more whole cloves - about 10 gingersnaps ½ tsp. salt. 1 or 2 bouillon cubes - simmer about 1 hr. or bake 350º

(A note to my dad on the other side of the card)

I use the turkey meat because of no fat. By browning the meat well, you get a richer sauce. The gingersnaps (yes, cookies) thicken the gravy. You will learn by experience the taste. You may want more spices, or more vinegar etc. The sauce will taste sour but when it is put over the meat, the meat will absorb the vinegar and it will no longer be to sour.

The last batch I made was the best ever with the turkey meat.

Analysis:

Processed:

Gingersnaps

Whole Grain (Non-Processed)

½ lb. gr. beef

1 lb. gr. turkey

⅓ c. milk

¼ c. bread crumbs

1 ½ cups water

⅓ c. Vinegar

½ tsp. salt

1 egg

10 bay leaf cloves

Analysis of the analysis:

We put a lot of these ingredients under non-processed because of the time period that it came from. James’ Great Grandmother grew up with this recipe during the Great Depression making it hard for her to get any processed version of the ingredients listed above. The Gingersnaps were definitely processed. But most things would have been easily accessible back then. Today, most, if not all of the ingredients are mass produced and altered to the point where they bear little resemblance to the original product. With the exception of James’ eggs because they are produced in his backyard. :D