Letters

Letters 12-14-2014

Come Together There is a time-honored war strategy known as “divide and conquer,” and never has it been more effective than now. The enemy is using it against us through television, internet and other social media. I opened a Facebook account a couple of years back to gain more entries in local contests. Since then I had fallen under its spell; I rushed into judgment on several social issues based on information found on those pages

Quiet The Phones! This weekend we attended two beautiful Christmas musical events and the enjoyment of both were significantly diminished by self-absorbed boors holding their stupid iPhones high overhead to capture extremely crucial and highly needed photos. We too own iPhones, but during a public concert we possess the decency and manners to leave them turned off and/or at home. Today’s performance, the annual Messiah Sing at Traverse City’s Central Methodist Church, was a new low: we watched as Mr. Self-Absorbed not only took several photos but then afterwards immediately posted them to his Facebook page. We were dumbfounded.

A Torturous Defense In defense of the C.I.A.’s use of torture in a mostly fruitless search for vital information, some suggest that the dire situation facing us after 9-11, justified the use of torture even at the expense of the potential loss of much of our nation’s moral authority.

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Nancy Vogl

 
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Monday, November 24, 2008

Breaking the cycle of racism

Other Opinions Nancy Vogl Recently, I made an unlikely friend in Traverse City: Rod Nyland, former employee of Hampel’s Guns.
For anyone who knows me, and the message I’m dedicated to sharing, Rod is just about the last person in this town I might be friendly with. Rod is credited with hanging the American flag inverted in front of Hampel’s the day after Barack Obama was elected, and for making a
racial slur against our next president.
I can’t remember how old I was when I instinctively knew it was wrong to make racial jokes or derogatory remarks about people with skin color darker than mine, but I couldn’t have been more than six or seven. My father, my father’s father and both brothers were adept at slinging Ku Klux Klan wisecracks and angry taunts laced with the “N” word, while my mother, relegated to the “barefoot in the kitchen” rule, remained silent.
I, however, despised my family’s behavior and made a vow to myself: “Someday, when I’m all grown up, I’m breaking the cycle of racism with my own children.” Obviously, I wouldn’t have chosen those exact words as a little girl, but I did keep my promise.
 
 
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