Letters 10-05-2015

Bravo Regarding the Sept. 28 Northern Express letter “Just The Facts” by Julie Racine, opinion column “E Pluribus Unum” by Thomas Kachadurian, and Spectator column “Fear Not” by Stephen Tuttle: Bravo. Bravo. Bravo....

Right On OMG. Julie Racine’s letter “Just the Facts” in the Sept. 28 issue said everything I was thinking. I totally agree. Amen sister...

Kachadurian’s Demeaning Sham Thomas Kachadurian’s opinion piece “E Pluribus Unum” is a very ill-informed perspective of American history. He attempts to portray our past as a homogenized national experience that has transcended any ethnic and regional differences with “the understanding” that our differences shouldn’t really matter...

Opinions Disguised As Facts Freedom of speech is a founding principle upon which our country prides itself, and because of this we all have a right to our opinion. It is when opinions are disguised as facts that we allow for ignorance to spread like wildfire...

Reject Your Own Stereotypes In his “E Pluribus Unum” column of 9/28, Mr. Kachadurian starts calmly enough with a simple definition and history of that famous motto from the Great “from many, one” seal of the U.S., but soon goes off the rhetorical rails. Alas, this heritage-sharing chat with neighbors soon turns into a dirty laundry list polemic, based on an us vs. them worldview...

Thanks For Just The Facts Thank you sooooo much to Julie in Marion for laying out the laundry list of right wing fabrications in her letter last week...

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Adam Fivenson

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Monday, September 19, 2011

The Beat Goes on for Milliken Auditorium’s 20th concert season

Features Adam Fivenson When Rory Block performed at the Bay Theater in Suttons Bay 20 years ago, she probably never dreamed she’d be back two decades later to headline at a local venue which was still in its infancy at the time.
Monday, October 13, 2008

An American in India

Features Adam Fivenson So there I was, taking a shortcut back home through an alleyway, drenched in sweat after another hour-long ride home from work in one of the sardine cans that passes for a New Delhi city bus, when bursting out of the evening shadows came a cow, apparently angered by my unintended trespassing on her turf and intent on putting her horns to use by bobbing for lungs in my chest if my next step wasn’t right back in the direction from which I’d come.
Had I found myself in the same situation months later, at a more advanced stage of my cultural assimilation, the only surprise might have been her aggressive demeanor (which I later understood to be in defense of her newborn calf), as street cows are generally about as active as your living room couch. But at this juncture, less than a month after my arrival in India, I had yet to grow accustomed to the company of the city’s thriving bovine population. How surprised was I? Well, if it’s any indication, I immediately imagined myself fumbling to re-pack various lobes of gray matter when my skull popped open in surprise.
Reasoning against spending the coming weeks learning to breathe through a tube, I bravely turned tail and fled, taking the long way home. It was somewhere between the neighborhood temple and the colony gate that I realized I wasn’t in Michigan anymore.