It seems that today is soapbox day. A recent New Yorker has one of those articles that hit a bit close to home. Titled "Slavery in America", it talks about the plight of migrant workers in south Florida. The article is both thoughtful and chilling. This has long been an issue of interest to me for several reasons. When I was in high school, I spent a part of each summer working as a volunteer at Marion House, a day care center for migrant children near Albion New York. The poverty was beyond imagining. The little girls usually came to "camp" wearing party dresses because the Salvation Army was full of them, one of the few items of childrens clothing that rarely gets worn therefore rarely gets worn out. You could watch the children --siblings, cousins--sharing the same pieces of clothing over the course of a week. Taking turns. But as grim as life was for migrants in the 70s, it seems that things have gotten worse, more desperate. Just as Cesar Chavez brought hope, there are still people working to make things better today. The challenge has always been fear and isolation. These problems are only exacerbated by the lack of a common language and the increase of agri-business, even in places like Upstate New York. Here is one more reason to support local agriculture.

The New York Law Journal recently [April 22, 2003] reported that New York County Criminal Court has discontinued the “Lobster Shift” at 100 Centre Street. At the risk of seeming to wax nostalgic, Night Arraignments, as we referred to it across the river in King’s County, was a very strange assignment. Under the best of circumstances, arraignments were always emotionally charged. It is the first time a person who has been arrested gets to see a judge and the first time their family and friends are able to see them. Frightened, tired, dirty, disoriented and/or furious, those accused were never in good form. The gallery wasn't much better. Court officers had to restrain accused or accusers or the family and friends thereof on many occasions. The fact that the encounters occurred in the middle of the night never helped the situation. The passing of this “We Never Close” access to justice is a good thing when viewed from the standpoint of a degrease in crime but I always found it a comforting thought that you could almost always find a judge in the city on the bench.

I was so sorry to hear about the Old Man in the Mountain. When I was a kid we spent a lot of time in New England. Every summer we would pile into the car and drive. And drive. Arriving was secondary. In fact, I'm not sure that we always even had a destination. We drove through Massachusetts, through Connecticut, and on and on. Many times, our destination was Maine, New Brunswick, actually but I digress. That is story for another day. We had lunch. We explored endless gift shops. We stayed in motels with and without pools, visited pancake houses, historical sites and went on factory tours. We had a ball. And several times, we went to see the Old Man. When I was in college, Sargent Camp was one of the little known perks of attending BU. A large expanse of land in Franconia Notch, it had it all--mountains, a cranberry bog and what seemed like miles of hiking/cross country ski trails. Many happy memories that are now just that.

The difficulties that Americans have in embracing soccer on the same level and with the same enthusiasm that we reserve for American football or baseball has puzzled the experts for decades. Thousand, more likely millions, of American children are crazy in love with the sport but somehow, when they grow up, as a group, they fail to support it as a professional sport. Ditto for women's sports in general. Well, there has been and continues to be progress. We finally got to see Bend it Like Beckham and it was great! As a product of Title IX and the mother of three female athletes, it was the type of movie that I love to see--affirming but funny, hip and very real with a great soundtrack. We went to see it en famille and absolutely everyone enjoyed it. That doesn't happy all that often but it is a joy when it does. I have a feeling that this film will have a deep and lasting impact on American soccer fans and those who are just learning that they are fans.

Mona Lisa has not yet deigned to pick up The Man Who Walked Through Time but The Sprite and I have been enjoying it. It is funny in a way that this is a book I have loved for decades but now, having been to the Canyon and seen it first hand, it is a whole new reading experience.

We are starting to outfit Neon Moon for her SCA trip to Lake Mendicino and I am, I must admit, very jealous. There is nothing like a new pair of hiking books to both thrill the soul and blister the feet. "The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began. And further on the road has gone and I must follow if I can. Pursuing it with eager feet until it joins some larger way. And wither then? I cannot say."