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Fad
Created on: September 08, 2008
It is no secret that celebrities have the ability to influence millions of people and aren't afraid to use it, for better or for worse. There's a brand new slang word, "Celebritarians," coined by singer Marilyn Manson, that is making a regular appearance on various Internet chat rooms and Web sites to describe these celebrities who have chosen to go beyond their acting & singing skills to get into politics. Maybe they are tired of not being taken seriously? Who knows, but one has to question if the leap from entertainer to politician is really that big of a difference. After all, politics can be quite entertaining.
The problem that arises with these celebrities that come out in the Media speaking as authorities on the political subject matter at hand is that their education and experience on the issue discussed is not required. All that is required for them to be given the podium is that they are a easily recognizable household name. That's it. Never mind that there are people out there that are absolutely qualified, experienced, and educated on the particular subject matter that should be given the opportunity to speak to the public. This is most certainly an abused power and privilege and one that could certainly be unintentionally or intentionally be destroying our society instead of helping it.
Take the Media's current darling, Angelina Jolie, for instance. She has decided to use her fame and fortune to help out in humanitarian issues, which is really great that she can help out in a way that most of the public would never have the money or opportunity to do, but does she really know what she is doing? You have to question if these celebrities are donating their time and money to these charities and becoming activists because their managers are telling them that it looks good for ratings. It seems that every celebrity these days has chosen a certain issue they take a stand on when they are interviewed by the Media whether it be cancer, animal abuse, world hunger or war.
A person with the least amount of education would have to ask themselves why Angelina is adopting kids from all over the world, instead of her own country when there's obviously children in America that need to be taken in and adopted every bit as much as any kid from Southeast Asia or Africa. Hurricane Katrina has left behind a whole new crop of children in need. America still has a homeless problem, a drug problem, a violence problem and now a major economic problem, yet it has become trendy to help everyone else except ourselves. Is Angelina adopting these kids specifically from countries scattered throughout the world to make her appear to be "saving the world"? It just doesn't seem as "worldly," or rather, trendy or fashionable, to be adopting kids from your own country, or even your own race, for that matter, which is certainly ethically questionable behavior.
There's an old saying that desperately needs to be brought back into the mainstream vocabulary again, and that is "you can't help others until you help yourself first." When getting on an airplane, the airline attendants give you specific instructions in the event of an emergency to put the oxygen mask on yourself first, and then your children. With all this generosity and help that America is giving to foreign countries and their people, are own resources are being depleted, and who will be left to help us when it's our time in need?
Learn more about this author, Heathen Holiday Gliebe.
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Reality
Created on: July 07, 2009 Last Updated: July 13, 2009
Southeast Asian adoption: not-so-new reality. The call came, at last, on a rainy Monday morning. Can you come to New York to meet your son on Wednesday at noon?
Seven months earlier, we had received a photograph and a letter introducing him. The sisters gave us no information about his age, or size, or health, the vital statistics every parent-to-be wants to know.
The paperwork involved in adopting a Vietnamese infant in the 1970's took many months. As the war raged on all around the orphanage where our tiny son lived, we hoped and prayed for the child we only knew through the mail. Pictures and letters from the nuns were few and far between. Each one became precious, and circulated widely among our family and friends before being placed in a baby book.
Sometimes the letters shared tragedies the shelling of the orphanage and middle-of-the night evacuation to a beach, a measles epidemic taking its toll among the babies. More red tape on our end, an appeal to our senator to intervene with the immigration office.
In early November, nearly nine months after we started our journey toward parenthood, the way was finally clear for Paul to come to us. Friends who had been missionaries in Viet Nam brought us pictures of him, the first we had seen in many months. He had gone from a newborn in arms to an almost-toddler sitting very upright. But his remarkable smile, dimpled chin and masses of curly, black hair reassured me that he was the same baby we already loved.
The last two days of waiting were so hectic. I addressed the announcements that had been ready for months. We arranged flights to from our home in mid-state Illinois to New York. Then there was last-minute shopping for diapers and bottles and baby clothes. Eight and one-half months old surely he will wear the nine months size. I knew so little about being a mom. Then, suddenly, it was time to go.
We're going to be parents tomorrow, I told the flight attendant who stared at my flat belly.
We went to the airport early the next morning, barely able to contain our excitement for even one more hour. Planes do arrive early sometimes, don't they? Not this time. We waited in a crowded area with thirteen other sets of expectant parents. A sick passenger on the flight, not one of our little ones, prompted a three-hour delay while public health officials determined the illness wasn't contagious. Finally, the children were escorted or carried to us.
Here's your son, a flight attendant handed Paul to my husband, special delivery from Viet Nam.
I couldn't even find the words to thank her for caring for him on the twenty-four-hour flight. I was completely enchanted by the little hand that reached for my finger. I undressed my baby and counted fingers and toes like any new parent. I changed a very wet diaper and dressed him in his new clothes, red-white-and-blue, to celebrate his arrival in his new country.
There never was a more special delivery, or a more precious moment when we became parents for the first time. Southeast Asian adoption, definitely a reality for us.
Learn more about this author, Joyce Good Henderson.
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