The shuddering booms

of bombs yet again fall

two sisters’ childhood is shattered

as rioters and the government squall.

In what seemed like a moment

they thought would end soon

another friend’s life is taken…

visas in Europe seem opportune.

Teen sisters Yusra and Sarah

know their future’s shaky at best

so they beg their parents

to fly far from the nest.

These young Syrian swimmers

pack their bags light

fare to Turkey in hand as they tearfully

embark on their flight.

Wandering the streets of Istanbul

they search for routes to the West

With horror they realize

rubber rafts across

the sea are “the best.”

They push out in dark waters

Stuffed on a dinghy fit only for eight

18 desperate travelers

surrender their fate.

Soon the flimsy engine sputters

Prayers and tears flow

as they brave the cruel sea

and a bitter wind blows.

Yusra and Sarah

decide to lighten the weight

they jump boldly in the Aegean

Swimming through the icy strait.

Their strokes push through

the cold, pain and fear

Praying persistently that soon

the shore will draw near.

After hours of swimming

They miraculously reach the sand

Weary and amazed

They’re alive in a new land.

Exhausted by thousands of refugees

The nearby neighbors have little pity

So the group of 18 find shelter

and food from foreign aid in the city.

Determined to reach Germany

Yusra and Sarah walk countless miles

Cross borders, sleep outdoors

and endure this dangerous trial.

After weeks they miraculously make it

to a safe haven in Berlin

Where they must start over and

Yusra wishes she can swim again.

The girls find a nearby pool

and Yusra pleas for a spot on the team

The coach sees her potential

says yes and re-awakens her dreams.

Life as refugees is hard

But the sisters do what they can

and try to secure safe passage

for their parents to travel by land.

Through grit, courage, and talent

Yusra joins the first Refugee Olympic Team in Brazil

She swims with power

Buoyed by hope and a strong will.

Meanwhile, Sarah audaciously

returns to the Aegean sea

joins efforts to bring many more

refugees across to safety.

These two sisters’ story

is but one of millions who’ve fled

conflict, disaster, persecution

and seek refuge, holding hope by a thread.

May we who live in comfort and ease

show compassion and kindness

as we see and meet

the refugee newcomers among us.

To learn more:

https://time.com/6236203/the-swimmers-true-story-netflix/ https://www.rescue.org/topic/refugees-america

Photo by Tim Marshall

Ding. Ding. Ding. Buzz. Buzz…

My eyes are so easy downcast, mesmerized

by that ever humming, lit-up screen that constantly begs for my attention.

Yet most times I surrender to it,

it leaves me bored, dissatisfied, annoyed…

Instead, when I step away and really look up, and am fully PRESENT…

I am amazed, in awe at the beauty all around:

those every day sights and sounds

that pull me in and fill me with wonder.

Beauty unfolds each morning

when I get up early enough to pause

at the stream on my way to work,

when sunbeams sleekly wrap around the grassy hillsides

with streaking ribbons of light.

Beauty unleashes from intricate designs

on the grand old granite buildings in old town

in a child’s sketchbook of thick lines and vibrant scribbles,

from the bold maroon and cerulean muraled faces

on the wall of a nail salon.

Beauty surges

from the strength of many voices

chorusing harmoniously as one civil rights song

that still rings true,

from the calming swirl of chords in

an age-old symphony that

blows through horns, pipes,

and exhilarant bows upon

stringed wooden instruments.

Beauty rises from

each pair of hands

that write, carve, sculpt,

clap, and play

each with their own hues

and grooves and fingerprints.

Beauty gushes

from a delicate infant

cradled in its family’s arms

experiencing life and love

for the first time.

Beauty connects us

through affectionate hugs from friends

who know our joys and sorrows alike,

from the insightful words of an elder

who passes on hope and encouragement

to a young one lacking confidence.

Beauty flows

from those sacred moments

we daringly let others into the

vulnerabilities of our hearts,

from fits of uncontainable, side-stitching giggles,

from tears of solidarity and empathy

shed with friends in times of sorrow.

Beauty is carved into our hearts

And woven into the universe…

Let’s take a moment

to pause and breathe deeply

of the beauty

All around us!

I’ll never forget that day in 4th grade

Mrs. Fallon sat on her stool in front of our class

during her weekly ritual reading us a story.

She had a faded paperback of “Old Yeller” in her hands

and she read that dreaded chapter

where young Travis discovers his beloved dingy colored

dog Old Yeller who defended his family from a rabid wolf

had endured the wolf’s fateful bite

which meant Travis had to shoot his dear friend

before Old Yeller turned on the family.

As Mrs. Fallon read the story her voice slowed and softened.

Tears began to trickle silently down her cheeks

Her voice choked up and as she did…

We all cried too. My classmates and I mournfully passed around

that box of tissues as we lamented for Travis

and his sweet dog.

There was something sacred in that moment

as Mrs. Fallon gave us permission to feel

to cry with honor and to be moved by a story not our own.

She showed us nine- and ten- year olds

that feeling sad is quite natural

and that when we choose to feel our feelings

in the company of others

there is solidarity

there is beauty

there is comfort.

Photo by Element5 Digital

I wander down the tree-lined dirt path

that eventually becomes a sidewalk,

sensing that stickiness of humidity so commonplace in Thailand.

It’s not long before I start to pass street vendors:

I notice an older man and woman, side by side at their food stall.

The few plastic chairs and modest outdoor tables set up

in front of them remain vacant.

Their Thai cuisine may be simple

but the recipes surely come from decades of perfecting:

a peanut-sprinkled papaya salad so wildly hot it instantly cleanses your nostrils,

Pad Kra Pao, a savory, basily minced pork dish with a fried egg and rice,

and colorful veggies from local farms the man deftly slices with a

sturdy cleaver in a whirlwind of chops; they will soon swirl in a sea of coconut milk, ginger, galangal, and shrimp paste.

The menus and signs for their shop are hand written and worn, but the food

they prepare is of highest quality.

They stand at attention in front of the woks and ingredients

swatting flies and wiping their brows, waiting for the next order to come.

Nearby, a woman with silvery hair pulled back in a bun stands

in a tiny stall, the size of a bedroom. Her shop is sardined with vibrant

dresses and skirts and shirts, many patterns of generations past

that reflect traditional culture, as well as a handful other

attire that mimics Western style. Our eyes meet fleetingly as I nod and I pass her by. She too waits for customers.

Across the street, brilliant, blinding lights shine,

flowing from the windows of a multi-story,

brand-new destination: the mall!

Folks from miles around have flocked here

Their motorbikes and cars and bikes jammed tightly into the surrounding lots.

These shoppers arrive with eager anticipation

to check out new fads and brands and to get the trendiest clothes and gear…hoping what they acquire will up their coolness factor.

The customers stroll inside, onto gleaming, snow-white tiled floors.

Glitzy, monstrous ads plaster every surface featuring

underfed, serious-faced European and American models in outrageous fashion and bold makeup entice buyers to be like them. Pop songs blare from speakers

pulsing in the hearers’ heads and bodies.

The potent smells from the food court bombard the senses:

take your pick of baked breads and pretzels

and donuts and coffee and boba and slushies and ice cream

and pizzas and burgers and fries and steaks and fried chicken…

Western brands that wow their customers

with such excessive volume of saltiness, grease, and sugar.

A flowing flurry of people stream up and down

the infinitely-moving escalator as it pushes its occupants up and down

to the next big sales.

These customers may have fond memory of local foods and vendors

but bright foreign novelties before them glitter and gleam

so much more glaringly and loudly...

I return outside to refreshing night air, the road clogged with

honking cars and motorbikes, many with plastic bags of new purchases

squeezed onto their arms and in their satchels.

As I make my journey home, I can't help but notice the local store owners once again. Tiny shop after shop, dimly lit: outdoor eating areas, small clothing and convenience stores. Though there are a handful of customers scattered about, the air feels thick and hushed.

An elderly woman in flimsy sandals strolls past me.

I’m drawn to admire her long, traditional sarong skirt of alternating golden diamonds amidst a midnight hue. We glance at one another, exchanging smiles.

She walks into the fading light. I few moments later, I look behind me;

she is already gone.

I wonder, will she and the vendors I have passed today's existence

grow dimmer amidst the flashy, seducing intrigue of Western brands

and chain restaurants and foreign fancies? Will outside companies eventually replace local peoples' businesses, foods, and generations of tradition?

Will the sense of community familiarity and connections

wane and fade as one by one, these shops close for good and are replaced by mass-produced commodities and manufactured convenience?

It’s hard to say for sure what the future holds.

I only hope that when people exit that massive mall

hopping onto their motorbikes and into their cars

they look out and remember the people in the shadows.

Photo by Egor Myznik

As I rap on the door

I hear a scampering swoosh

as the knob turns

the door creaks open

Yoshi’s velvety fur tossles

as he scurries

like a thunderbolt

and wallops

a delighted bark!

He enthusiastically

scampers

as his paws madly

pitter patter

across the tile.

He leaps up

howling in pure joy

his gleeful tail

pounding the ground

His eyes and mouth

grin together widely

and reveal his

pure reverie.

As I pull him close

I hear his heart

thud against mine.

As he plunks

a sloppy kiss on my cheek

I relish this

furry hug with the

sweetest pup around!

One gray morning

in Portland

in the dismal peak of

the Great Depression

Henry Frank Phillips had

a wild epiphany...

What if he could

turn an itty bitty pointed

piece of metal

(weighing less than a penny!)

into a mighty force that would

revolutionize the world??

Yes, Henry did what

many a great genius has

conjured...

#1: He took an

existing INVENTION

"the socket screw," one his friend

John concluded was

a floundering failure...

#2: Brought his own INSIGHT

("we could move assembly lines

along at lightning speed

if we quickened the pace

of fastening screws

in manufacturing…”)

#3: Then tinkered

and tweaked the design

till he powered & patented

an INNOVATION -

a cross-beamed screw

that was brilliantly

self-centered (though he himself

tried not to be), that fit

more snugly into place

and was much more quickly

aligned with drivers than

its predecessor screws.

He soon created the screw's

matching counterpart,

a new driver whose groves

perfectly aligned with it,

making for a speedy, smooth

secure fit.

What would he call it?

Why not his very last name!

The Phillips Head Screw

was born.

Henry soon realized

convincing manufacturers

of this groundbreaking invention

proved painfully,

pathetically slow.

Undeterred,

Henry pertinaciously

pounded on doors,

solicited phone calls,

wrote persuasive letters…

till one day he won over

the skeptics at the

American Screw Company!

With their stamp of approval

they began to license and produce

his tiny, shiny screws!

The next hurdle loomed:

convince the industrial

heavy hitters

that they NEEDED

this metal prize.

With allies at

American Screw Company

at his side, it wasn’t long

before Henry proposed to

manufacturing giant

General Motors that with

his sturdy screws,

their production could

pick up speed

profits could surge

employment could rise…

it was not long before

the contract with GM

was secured!

Henry’s screws

found their way to the

GM factories,

scooting happily

down assembly lines

swiftly uniting

steel and glass into

thousands of

sturdy, sheeny

1936 Cadillacs.

The revolution had begun!

Word spread,

as the heart of U.S. industry,

factories across Detroit,

were humming and bustling

with those mighty screws.

And the movement

budded and bloomed…

By 1940, less than

8 years after Henry

first had his nascent

bright idea,

a whopping 85%

of screw manufacturers

across the country

had license to use

Henry’s design!

As the massive war

that swept

the world was into

full swing,

thousands upon thousands

of cars and planes

and trains - some powering

the war effort

across the world,

others helping form

cities and transportation

and commerce,

were held together

by these unstoppable

Phillips Head Screws.

They continued to flow

into factories that

dotted the globe

for decades to come.

Little did Henry know,

that dreary day

his idea sparked

that his bitty screws

plus his dogged

determination

would transform an industry

and ultimately,

decidedly,

impact the world!

Photo by Konstantin Evdokimov

Sources:

https://www.oregonencyclopedia.org/articles/phillips_screw_and_driver/#.ZE88OXbMI2w

https://www.geni.com/people/Henry-Phillips/6000000000142137868

https://www.invent.org/inductees/henry-phillips