The Apostrophe Blog
The photo on this post is of one oh-so-lovely blossom from one of the three snowleaf hydrangeas that grace our front yard. The simple beauty of flowers, of the green inspiration that surrounds me here in my little corner of Portland, Oregon paradise is sorely needed right about now.
I took this snapshot yesterday when I was deeply in pursuit of beauty. It was the same shameful day our (so-called and very much UN-presidential) national leader and one of his henchwomen—along with the deeply flawed turncoat governor of Florida—posed for leering photographs in front of the tent concentration camp they rushed to build over the course of what? seven? eight? mere days in the Florida Everglades. On native land that they did not have permission to use. And using, I learned today, FEMA money earmarked for future (and of course inevitably necessary) hurricane relief.
These monsters have given what is actually a concentration camp on American soil a cutesy alliterative moniker, one that will play well on Fox News and the Internet, one incorporating the name of a notorious prison in the San Francisco Bay, a name we must all refuse to use. Because we must, we have to, we cannot stop calling these atrocities by their rightful names.
Words have power. What these cruel, sadistic monsters are constructing is not some cutesy Disney-fied tent encampment in the swampland just for shits and giggles. Call it by its name. Concentration camp. Internment Camp. Prison. Hell.
What we are becoming. What we are? What we have been for a long time? What we are.
For shame on this country. For shame.
Below, a public domain photo taken in July 1944 of fences surrounding the Lublin, Majdanek forced labor camp in Poland.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
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