An American Flag of Stories



This wall of faces, feathers, beads, and wax attached to sticks of woven leather represents the art of storytelling, self-expression, and free speech called “story” sticks. The “Story Flag” is a sculpture of the American Flag created to bring awareness to a disability video and oral history project called “It’s Our Story”. The massive conceptual art piece towers twelve feet into the air, spans twenty feet across and is uniquely American. Each feathered stick represents one of a thousand video portraits of living in America with a disability.

The goal of “It’s Our Story” is facilitate the art of story telling inspired by the Native American tradition of a “story” stick. Long before the United States was a nation, the local populations of our Continent embraced a tool for free speech called “story” sticks. Simple yet elegantly adorned sticks or bones were used to mediate conflict and find resolutions through understanding how each other felt the way that they did. These “sticks” empowered each other to tell their truths without the fear of reprisal.

Anyone who possessed a “story” stick would not be interrupted until their story had been told but, once told, the speaker had to pass this power of free speech to anyone who wanted to tell their story. This is how decisions were made whenever two people, two families, two tribes, or two nations would have a difference of opinion. Through this sharing of views, complex disagreements could become shared understandings of what each one truly believed.

“To enable it to do its work naturally, every new idea must be in some way embedded in what is old.”
-Albert Schweitzer

The Native American proverb of “It takes a thousand voices to tell a single story,” is literally manifested from four years of traveling to one hundred cities to listen to the stories each disability community has to share. This one hundred thousand mile journey has taught us many things; the most important is we are here to facilitate the tools of story telling so the disability community may tell their stories with a “Nothing about us without us” power of creation. “It’s Our Story” is not about having one editor tell our story, it’s about empowering a thousand editors to tell the story.

What are these tools that evolve the art of story telling in our day and age? Look around, what do you hear about, see, and if your “hip” enough, do. Most under the age of thirty Text, Tweet, and Blog, create new friends on My Space, Facebook and Linkeden, post videos on YouTube, IReporter, and Vlogs. If our stories are not online, we do not exist. Brave new methods of communication are changing the way we see ourselves as well as the World that surrounds us. For so many, the primary way to access information is through a cell phone.

“Adapt or Perish,” is a natural law that cannot be ignored in the digital age. We have a responsibility to the generation that follows us be a relative part of their lives. Just as they have a responsibility to know what the previous generations contribution mean to them so they can make bigger contributions for those who follow. If a whole generation can’t find us on their phone, to them, nobody’s home, and there is no forwarding address. If our information is not modern, it’s lost and may never be found.

“It’s Our Story” is about taking the lessons of communication learned from an ancient “story” stick and evolving those techniques to meet the needs of today’s storytellers with technology. As we film and collect interviews, we weave a network of critical information vital to maintaining the identity of the disability community in a relevant way. When we encode and process the data of the past, we make the beads of wisdom available to everyone. As we share the archives online, we give wings to our stories that let this knowledge soar across the world in ways never before imagined.

Scott Cooper, Creator of the IOS Projects

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The Odds


Prakash looked at his watch. It has been more than forty minutes since the scheduled departure time for his flight. There was no sign of the aircraft leaving the departure gate. The cabin was getting warmer. The flight attendants were busy handing out water bottles to the passengers who were getting increasingly impatient.

The PA system came alive with the captain making an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for this morning's delay. Our ground staff have been attending to a technical snag trying to get this aircraft flying and have been unsuccessful. We have a standby aircraft and our staff will assist you in getting you boarded soon. Once again, we apologize for the inconvenience.”

The passengers got up murmuring and lined up to get off the plane.

Prakash was concerned about missing his connection flight to London from Mumbai. He was on his way to attend a due diligence meeting with a potential acquisition target that his company was considering.

* * * 
The flight touched down at Mumbai airport almost an hour and half delayed from what Prakash had planned. As soon as he got out, he headed towards the shuttle bus service to get to the international terminal. There was a small queue waiting there for the shuttle. Prakash was getting nervous about making his flight as he reckoned he would reach there less than thirty minutes prior to the departure of his London flight.
The agonizing wait was finally over as the passengers boarded the shuttle bus.
* * * 
Prakash got down from the shuttle at the international terminal and sprinted to the check-in counter. He was surprised that the check-in counters were all empty with no one at the desks except at one where a supervisor was finishing up her shift. He ran to that counter before she could get away.
“Hi, I am on the flight to London...”
“Sorry sir, boarding is closed! I can help you get on the next flight that leaves late tonight...”
“Look, my incoming flight from Chennai got delayed. It is very important that I get on that flight to London to attend a business meeting. There is still twenty-five minutes to departure. Can you do something?”
“No sir, I can't!”

Prakash was getting angry. But, he also realized that the only person in the entire world who could help him get on that plane was the lady in front of him.

“Please! Can you at least check if there is a possibility? I would be very grateful...”

The lady looked at him for a second of hesitation and then picked up the phone.

“I am going to check with the gate. If they have still not closed the gate, we can try...”

“Thank you!"

Prakash let a sigh of relief.

“Okay. The last few passengers are boarding the flight. I am going to upgrade your economy ticket to business class. You may have to run in order to make it before they close the door. Here's your boarding pass. Have a pleasant flight!”

“Thank you! You are a lifesaver...”

Prakash picked up his hand luggage and ran towards security. He thanked his stars for packing light without any check-in bags. The security lines were also empty. He breezed through it and ran towards the gate hoping to make it on time.

He finally reached the gate. The last three elderly passengers were boarding the plane.

‘Thank God for old people!’

Prakash finally was relieved. He stood at the end of the line wiping the sweat off his face.

A few minutes later, he was well settled in his seat smiling at the flight attendant who was serving him a welcome drink.


* * * 

The television channels were running the news about the crash non-stop. A red bulletin in the bottom of the screen announced a toll-free number that relatives could call to inquire status. The nation was shocked and sadness filled the air.

No one expected any survivors from the crash. So, it was indeed a miracle that one person out of the four hundred plus passengers on that fateful flight lived to tell the tale.

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Madras Chronicles—Guitar Hero


The first audio cassette player I used was a Sanyo. It was a cassette recorder with a built-in microphone and a mono player. My uncle bought it and it was in my grandmother's house. It was the year when Mouna Ragam released in the Grand Theatre in Annanagar, the first Tamil film in a theatre that ran English films and directed by a new director named Mani Rathnam which went on to become that year's biggest grossing film.
The same year saw the release of Punnagai Mannan by K. Balachander starring Kamal Hassan. It was widely publicized as the movie in which Ilayaraja, the composer used the MIDI synthesizer to bring computer music to the Tamil film industry, believed to be operated by A. R. Rahman. Oomai Vizhigal was another hit movie that year, a film written by Aabhavaanan and directed by R. Aravindraj, starring Vijayakant. But there were three reasons why the film that is etched in my mind from that year was Vikram, another Kamal Hassan starrer. The first reason—the story  and screenplay was by my favorite writer Sujatha. The second reason—it had Vanithavani,vanamohini…, a song considered too risqué at that time that Oliyum Oliyum, a program that was telecast every Friday by the state-run Doordarshan TV (Channel 4), never showed it. It was a song that a trio of friends secretly sang in the back benches at school while the teacher was busy with the lesson. The third reason was the beautiful Dimple Kapadia who was brought from Bollywood to act in that movie as a princess of an exotic land.
Remember the Sanyo cassette player that I started with. The very first recording I made using it was songs from the Hindi blockbuster movie, Bobby from many years earlier, starring Rishi Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia. That was the first time that I saw Bobby and instantly fell in love with it, the same way that Rishi Kapoor's character is enamoured seeing Dimple's. The movie was telecast by Doordarshan and I meticulously taped every song. A Sanyo cassette player, Bobby, Dimple Kapadia, Vikram—the universe conspires to design your fate.  That moment marked my unofficial introduction to music.
My school had co-curricular activities every Thursday and I had signed up for Yoga. After a year, I felt that I should switch because I felt the other kids were having too much fun while I was stretching my body into uncomfortable poses. We also had a guitar club that sounded cool and I decided to join. When I told my mother, she asked me if I was really interested. I answered affirmatively.
Photograph of Musee Musical, Mount Road, ChennaiThe next week she took me to a quaint shop in Mount Road called Musee Musical. I instantly fell in love with that shop. There was an old-world charm to that store. They had violins, guitars, drums, flutes and every other musical instrument that I had seen before in my life. I got myself a yellow Givson guitar. It cost 650 Rupees and the salesman gave me two complimentary picks. My mother and I returned home in an autorickshaw. I held my Givson carefully as the autorickshaw navigated the potholes in the Madras roads.
Our guitar teacher in school started with music theory, treble clef, bass clef, notation etc., One day, someone brought a leaflet for a CASIO electronic keyboard that had numbers instead of the notes and was playing Jingle Bells using it as reference. Initially, the teacher was smiling and walked up to that boy. When he discovered that he was playing it from that leaflet that didn't have notation—an abomination to say the least—he was horrified. He went into a rage tearing it apart and throwing it into the trash can.
On another instance when he found three of us talking during class. Saravanan was my classmate and the other one was a junior student. I vaguely remember his name as Ravi. He asked each one of us to make a fist and knock the other's head with our knuckles. The first one to get struck was Saravanan and the Ravi was to do the deed. It was my turn next to strike Ravi and then Saravanan was supposed to strike me. I had to think quickly to escape, so I did the unexpected. I rolled my right palm into a tight fist and gathered the maximum strength that I could and struck Ravi hard on the center of his head! It must have knocked the living daylights out of him that he immediately began crying, tears flowing uncontrollably down his cheeks. The guitar teacher was stunned and didn't know what to do. He asked me why I hit him so hard. I just shrugged and told him I just did what he asked me to. He then ordered the three of us to get back to our seats and consoled the boy who was wiping his tears and stroking his head. I don't think Ravi ever spoke to me after that.
I continued in the guitar club for the next two years and then my interests shifted to dramatics. The guitar gathered dust at the corner of my room except for the occasional time when I would feel like strumming.
After I finished college and got into a job, I gave my guitar away to one of my younger cousins. That was my brief brush with music.
A decade and a half later, I am a happily married family man with two sons. My wife wanted to wean them away from TV by putting them into—you guessed it—music class! Both the boys learn Classical Carnatic violin. A random thought crops up in my mind and out of a whim, I ask my wife. She says it is never too late to learn anything.
A week later, at the insistence of my wife, I register for guitar classes at the same place where my sons go to learn violin! On the first day at class, my classmates are a couple of college students and a school-going boy and girl, just a few years older than my sons. It was a true Vasoolraja MBBS moment for me. The first day was just basic theory. At the end of the class, the teacher instructed the little girl to bring her notebook during the next class and then turned to me and asked me to copy the lessons from her. Jokes apart, I was truly thrilled that I decided to learn the guitar. There was only one thing left. I needed a guitar before the next class.
I was very excited about the thought of buying a new guitar. I wanted to take my family with me to the store. Unfortunately, our washing machine broke and my wife said she needed to stay home until the technician finished fixing it. Luckily, he came early and she was on board for the trip to the store. My younger son loves shopping, so he said he would join. I told my mom that we are going to the store and she asked me if I want her to come. Not to be left out, my brother and his wife also join the group and off we go to the store!
Madras is now Chennai and Chennai Metro Rail is busy digging up Mount Road for laying the tunnels. Policemen on horseback are crossing Mount Road at the Walajah Road / Mount Road signal. We take a U-turn on Walajah Road and come back to Mount Road. Almost twenty-five years later, after asking directions from a bookseller who had set shop on the sidewalk, we arrive once again at Musee Musical. The store looked very different from what I recollect from my memories.
I select my guitar. The salesperson tuned it and gave me two complimentary picks and a guitar belt. We took pictures at the store. Minutes later all of us are on our way back home. I am sitting in the front passenger seat of our car holding on to my guitar firmly as the car bumps a little. Damn potholes!

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The Tourist


“How was your flight?”

“Long, but comfortable...”

“You can crash at the hotel tonight. I will pick you up tomorrow morning. We begin work the day after. A day's rest would help you get out of jet-lag.”

“Okay.”

“First time in India?”

“Yes...”

“Welcome to Chennai. It wasn't called Chennai a few years ago, you know!”

“Yes. I saw that... on Wikipedia...”

“Would you like to do some sight-seeing tomorrow? I can take you around...”

“Sure. Thanks... I hope I am not taking you away from your family on a Sunday!”

“No, that's perfectly fine. My wife and kids are out on vacation at their grandparents' house. I am alone at home at the moment...”

“Wow! This is some crazy traffic in Chennai... How do people even drive here without running over someone?”

“This is normal for us! You see, we have lanes and traffic rules so that we can observe them in the breach...”

“I now understand why they insisted on me having local support.”

“Yes. Foreigners would be lost without locals guiding them... You see that flyover?”

“The what?”

“The flyover...”

“Oh, you mean the overpass?”

“Yes, yes... it is the Kathipara Junction. A few years ago, we did not have the flyover and traffic was a nightmare.”

“You mean to say it isn't a nightmare now?”

“No. What I was trying to say is... you are booked at The Hilton which is near that.”

“Okay. Why is that young woman sitting behind that man on the bike covering her face with that cloth. Is that a custom or tradition?”

“Ha ha! No. They are probably lovers. She is hiding her face so that she isn't spotted by someone who knows her, say a family member...”

“...or her husband! I get it. It is a flirtation device...”

“What? No, it is not a flotation device...”

“...”

“Oh... Okay. I get it now! Flirtation device... you are a funny man.”

“Is this the Hilton?”

“Yes, it is. The room is booked in the name you gave me over the phone. Here is a prepaid cell phone. I have saved my number under the name Mr. X. What time should I pick you up tomorrow morning?”

“Let us meet at 9 AM in the lobby!”

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. X!”

“Ah, Good morning. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes...”

“Lets go... This way please... If I may ask, do you believe in God?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not that it does. I just assumed that you might be a believer. You wouldn't mind if I stop at a temple on the way, do you?”

“No...”

“Thanks. I go to the temple every Sunday. There is a small Ganesha temple at the corner of the street. It'll just take a couple of minutes...”

“Fine. I'll just wait outside in the car.”

“...”

“What's so funny? Why are you laughing? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking... I believe in God. Therefore, I go into the temple...”

“I don't and that is why I am staying outside, in the car...”

“Have you thought about this? If you believed God wasn't in there, inside the temple, why do you have to stay outside? Doesn't staying outside just confirm that God is inside?”

“You have a point... Let's go.”

* * *

“I was wondering... What is all this graffitti on the walls?”

“We Chennai folks like to adorn our walls in public spaces with names of our politicians in block lettering! It is political graffitti...”

“I see... There is so much about India that I don't know! Do you have cows? I haven't seen any since I came here and I was told that people here worship cows. Do you worship a cow, Mr. X?”

“There are cows in India, but it would be very rare nowadays to find one roaming the street in Chennai. You would find them if you go into the outskirts of the city... and for the record... No... I don't worship a cow!”

“Hmm... Are you a good man, Mr. X?”

“Thats a moot question, don't you think?”

“Since you believe in God... may I ask you another question?”

“Fire away!”

“If someone told you to maim and kill a child, would you do it?”

“Ugh... No! I wouldn't!”

“Why?”

“It is morally repugnant to me!”

“Why is that different from what we would be doing tomorrow?”

“Killing for hire is a vocation. But killing an innocent child is a matter of principle...”

“Okay. Stay with me on this thought experiment. Lets assume that you won't maim and kill an innocent child because God wouldn't want you to do it...”

“That is reasonable...”

“If you are doing what God wills you to do, would you still do it if it isn't something that you would want to do?”

“I don't get it!”

“Let me rephrase my question... Suppose God wanted you to maim and kill a child, would you do it?”

“No!”

“Therefore, whether you maim and kill a child has nothing to do with what God wants, but everything to do with whether you want to do it or not...”

“I see the logic, but...”

“Logic dictates that there is no need for God to exist... at least to guide us on what should or shouldn't be done!”

* * *

“Did you know that there are only three Basilicas in the world built over the tomb of an apostle of Christ and one of them is right here in Chennai?”

“I've been to the St. Peter's in Rome and Santiago de Compostella, Spain. Sight-seeing, of course...”

“This is the Santhome Basilica. There is an underground chapel behind which holds the Relic of St. Thomas.”

“This is a beautiful church...”

“Did you notice that Jesus stands on a lotus flower with two peacocks by his side?”

“Yes...”

“This is probably something that you would see only in India and only in Chennai...”

“Is that a bride waiting to walk the aisle? Did we crash a wedding?”

“Maybe... Let's go around to the underground tomb chapel.”

“In my country, we don't have weddings on Sundays, ever! You know...”

“That's funny! We schedule weddings on holidays to ensure that everyone attends it... and they better bring a gift or cash!”

“Oh...”

“I had been thinking about your logical rebuttal of the existence of God. Let me ask you this... Are you a rational man?”

“I believe so...”

“Therefore, you would make choices based on the benefits of that choice and not based on emotional reasons?”

“You could say that...”

“Let's say there is no hell. You wouldn't go there for not believing in God since it isn't there. But, if there is a God and there is a hell, it seems to be a very serious penalty for not believing in Him. So, even if you are a rational person, the rational choice would be to believe in God, isn't it?”

“I see your point...”

“Are you changing your mind?”

“Not yet. There could be one God or there could be many. If I believed there was only one God and in reality there were many, I would be going to hell for not believing in some of them. If I believed there were many Gods and I discover after the fact that there was only one, I would be going to hell anyway for doubting the omniscience of the single God. So, why bother?”

“Touché. Lets change the topic. Shall we?”

“Okay. Do you watch movies Mr. X?”

“Yes.”

“What is your favorite movie?”

“Kill Bill.”

“Volume 1 or 2?”

“Both!”

“Uma Thurman is my favorite actor...”

“I see...”

“I love her so much that my girlfriend has given me blanket permission to go out for a dinner date with her, if I ever get invited by her!”

“... if you ever get invited by her!”

“Why? You think I don't stand a chance? Stop laughing...”

“That would be like Vincent Vega taking Marsellus Wallace's girlfriend out on a date to the Jackrabbit's diner in Pulp Fiction!”

“You know why Quentin Tarantino is my favorite director?”

“Why?”

“Reservoir Dogs. A bunch of bad-ass gangsters talk about everything but the heist... heck, he did not even show the heist... and people bought it!”

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Is There a Best Method of Payment?

by AJ Pettersen · 5 comments
Wallet with dollars and credit card
You choose how to pay every time you make a purchase. Sometimes you can choose from several methods of payment, and other times, you’re limited by your location. My wife and I use a combination of credit cards, debit cards, checks, and cash, depending on where we’re making our purchase.
What methods of payment do you use? Do you have a preference?

Credit Cards

Pros: Credit cards are a very popular form of payment, and they let you pay on our own schedule. They help to build credit, which will assist you in making large purchases in the future. Credit cards can also have rewards. My wife and I have a travel perks card that gives us about 2.5 cents per dollar spent towards flights.

In-store credit cards sometimes offer even higher returns and interest-free periods. Some stores offer up to a 5% rebate on every purchase if you use your card to buy products.
Cons: Credit cards can be overused. If you use a credit card and can’t pay it off in full by the payment date, you’ll be on the hook for the balance, plus a huge amount of interest. Not paying off your balance on time hurts credit.

Debit Cards

Pros: Debit cards use funds from your checking account. Unlike credit cards, debit cards allow you to use plastic, but they don’t allow you to overspend. You can withdraw cash at your local bank or at an ATM using a debit card. They’re an efficient and simple form of payment.
Cons: Debit cards don’t help you build any credit. They also typically have less fraud protection than credit cards, which could be problematic if your card is lost or stolen.

Checks

Pros: Checks can be used to pay anyone from your checking account. If you don’t have sufficient cash, you can pay anyone who doesn’t accept plastic forms of payment. Checks are a great way to give money as a gift. They’re also better for record keeping, as the bank will automatically provide a proof of payment.
Cons: Checks take time to fill out. They provide the receiver with more information than they need — such as some of your bank account details, your name, and home address.

Cash

Pros: You can make nearly every in-person purchase with cash. For everything from the babysitter to your local grocery store, cash is an easy form of payment. Many small businesses prefer to accept cash, as well. In fact, you can often negotiate for a better price by paying in cash.
Cons: Cash doesn’t carry your name, so there’s no way to get your money back if it’s lost or stolen. There are no rewards for using cash, and it can’t be used to make purchases online. Some stores may also decide not to accept large bills due to potential for fraud. Though it’s an outdated method of payment, we’re probably still centuries away from cash becoming extinct.
see more : http://moneyning.com/life-style/is-there-a-best-method-of-payment/

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