Dear Strikers: Why I’m Not Taking to the Streets Today
I’m part of a climate action organization, I live in London, and yet I’m not going to join the people at Parliament. Why not?
The global climate strike is monumental. Greta Thunberg has done a remarkable job at getting people to finally recognize the urgency of the situation. Even my partner, who is deep in the traditional corporate mindset, is now paying attention. He is impressed by her words.
Today, the strike officially began in the Philippines, where I’m from. How proud I am that my home — where the…
What am I doing?
My mission is to make basic accounting and financial knowledge accessible to all without exception. I hope for a world of more dignity and freedom of choice for all — whether the financial and economic system stays the same or changes. Before I go into why I’m doing this, which is the most important question of all, I need to describe the spirit with which I’m approaching my vocation.
First, I believe that nothing is completely knowable — that, as John Caputo writes, “interpretation goes all the way down” (p. 307, Caputo, John D. Hermeneutics: Facts…
December 29, 2014 was a Monday. It was noon when the plane landed at Birmingham International. I was a long way from my Mommy in the Philippines. I had come to join my ex-boyfriend in the city some people call, lovingly, Brum. My ex was now my husband; we married in May.
I cried when we landed because Daddy would have been so happy to know that I was finally starting my own family, with a boy he actually liked. My husband and I met at an MBA programme in France. Daddy had passed away in February.
My spirits rose…
New York City, Meatpacking District
Just around sunset
Jackson angled to the left and jumped over a pile of rubble. Slick sweat running down his temples, he shouted behind him. “Ira, cut west, cut west!” They had to get home.
“Okay!” The pot-bellied figure that ran a few feet behind him huffed and puffed along. He heaved between labored breaths. “Don’t lose me, Jackson!”
Twenty feet behind the pair, a dark shape thumped along, cutting through the bits of broken furniture and concrete along the darkening street. Ahead of them, a three-storey building with two standing walls loomed into view…
New York City, Times Square SafeZone
Aminah squirmed in her seat and surreptitiously tapped her ring.
“Honey, quit that. You know better. The show’s about to start,” her mother said. Aminah sighed and slumped in her chair, slightly annoyed that she would have to check her messages at intermission. She had been going to Broadway openings with her parents since as long as she could remember, but all she wanted to do that night was see her friends.
From the other side of her mother, Aminah’s father’s smiling face appeared. “Don’t worry,” he whispered as the light…
New York City
She yelled into his ear again. He was late, she screeched, and he had parked too far away. The man held the phone away from him for a moment, and then replied calmly. Stop being hysterical, he told her — he had arrived. He tapped the phone off and slipped it into his pocket. Women. Shaking his head, the man shut off the engine, got out and slammed the door, then turned back to lock it. Cars stood still ahead of him, making it impossible to park any closer. Maybe he should have tried one of…
Well, that’s it for now. Thanks for reading, and more thanks for comments and feedback.
I’ve one or two structural changes planned, where the Story didn’t quite come out the way it was meant to. And there is sculpting, paring, trimming, buffing and polishing to do.
All in due course.
First, tomorrow, an appointment with the doctor to check my head.
Her eyes were closed to the world, but her mind was fanned out, porous and active. Images played and replayed in her memory.
Eddie shouting at her. “I hate you!” Eddie running. Eddie in the rain on the roofdeck of an old house, head hung down. Eddie far, far away.
With the wind and the distance, she hadn’t been able to hear him. But she could see him still, and she knew that he had followed her. Eddie had physically exerted himself and risked entering a dilapidated structure that could have fallen apart around his ears. No. The last words…
WASHINGTON, DC BUNKERLAND
Guy Haverford dragged himself in. “Ah, Pritchard. We took a gamble and lost, didn’t we?”
“We were right, Chief.”
The Chief laughed feebly.
“Don’t move! Headstrong man.”
“I missed you,” the Chief said. “Who’s this… this fella?” His one good eyebrow rose as he looked down to Riley’s hand clasped in a good-looking young man’s. Riley laughed.
“His name is Josh. I’ll introduce you properly when you’re well.” Josh smiled and waved hello to the Chief, who was finally strapped into the stretcher.
“Okay, enough chit chat! We gotta get him to the med center!”
“You were the Secretary of Transportation and Communication and you just had to be a creature, didn’t you! Damn you, Jon!” President William Walsh III muttered under his breath as he strode down the hall into the buzzing ops room. “CAN ANYONE CUT THAT THING OFF? Someone!” He tried not to break his cool, but it was getting more difficult by the moment. He felt queasy.
No one on his remaining staff had been able to keep the unfortunate announcement from Times Square off the air. Reports also said that the announcement had been shown on any system…