Biographies

At 14yrs old i was dumped on the street. I was naive,trusting and way to innocent to comprehend the wickedness of this world. I was fresh blood in the water and the sharks could smell my blood from miles away. Before i could realize it, i was hustleing santa monica boulevard and strung out on heroin. I went through every hell that you could possibly even imagine or experience in you worst nightmares.*****//forward three years of blurry memories.//**** It was christmas day,and i was alone in a seedy fuck shack hotel off the boulevard where you can rent rooms by the hour .I was broke,very dope sick and my time was up for the room,so i stumbled out to the boulevard seeing the world through the dementia of withdrawl and self hatred.At an intersection a Mercedes 4 door sedan pulled up to the traffic light.

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When I was a little girl until teenager, I didn't have good friends, close friends. I think until 18 years old, I didn't have close friends. It was really pity and sad too. But to find a close friend, I can't choose them random. A close friend must can understand and have empathy to the other, can be trustworthy, can help friend too. Not only exist when friend is happy, but exist too when friend is difficult. 1

No friends, I can feel lonely. But even I told to my friends, I couldn't choose them as my best friends. So many requirement to be a good friend. Even I had a friend sit together with me, but she was only friend to talk, no more and no less. I remember that I went everywhere alone. When I walked together with my friends, I didn't feel happy. 2

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My name is Brooke. This is a story about my dad. I am 8 years old. My memories of my dad before were happy ones. I was born in Virginia but we moved to Utah when I was 2. Utah is where mom and dad lived before Virginia with my sisters Shelby and Liz. I call her Lizzy.

In the olden days daddy was fun. He loved us all so much, I just know it. Dad fixed computers for a long time. He had a good job, I think. He seemed to like his job. Mom would get mad that dad liked to spend so much money. I didn’t care if he spent money though, if you make it then its ok to spend it, right? Dad liked to spend time with Uncle Chris and Uncle Shane. He liked to go fishing with them or just talk about the good ole days. It wasn’t that fun for me to listen so I just played with Lizzy. Grandpa and grandma would come to visit us. They didn’t come very often but when they did, grandpa took daddy to another room to have “guy talk”. Mom says that’s what grown ups do. She said it makes them feel like they are talking about something important but really they are talking about cars or fishing.

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Chief Gall was one of the most aggressive leaders of the Sioux nation in their last stand for freedom.

The westward pressure of civilization during the past three centuries has been tremendous. When our hemisphere was "discovered”, it had been inhabited by the natives for untold ages, but it was held undiscovered because the original owners did not chart or advertise it. Yet some of them at least had developed ideals of life which included real liberty and equality to all men, and they did not recognize individual ownership in land or other property beyond actual necessity. It was a soul development leading to essential manhood. Under this system they brought forth some striking characters.

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Introduction

Nikola Tesla (Serbian Cyrillic: Никола Тесла) was of unusual intellectual brilliance. The Serbian-American inventor, physicist, mechanical engineer and electrical engineer had a general mental capability that could reason, plan, and solve problems in his head. He could think abstractly and comprehend ideas without putting pen to paper. His patents (over 225 in the United States) and theoretical work still form the basis for modern alternating current electric power systems (including the polyphase system power distribution system). Tesla helped usher in the Second Industrial Revolution. Tesla is regarded as one of the most important inventors in history. He is also well known for his contributions to the science of electricity and magnetism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. His legacy can be seen across modern civilization.

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There was once a Sioux brave who declared that he would die young, yet not by his own hand. Tamahay was of heroic proportions, herculean in strength, a superb runner; in fact, he had all the physical qualities of an athlete or a typical Indian. In his scanty dress, he was beautiful as an antique statue in living bronze. When a mere youth, seventeen years of age, he met with an accident which determined his career. It was the loss of an eye, a fatal injury to the sensitive and high-spirited Indian. He announced his purpose in these words: “The ’Great Mystery’ has decreed that I must be disgraced. There will be no pleasure for me now, and I shall be ridiculed even by my enemies. It will be well for me to enter soon into Paradise, for I shall be happy in spending my youth there. But I will sell my life dearly. Hereafter my name shall be spoken in the traditions of our race.” With this speech Tamahay began his career.

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Crazy Horse was born on the Republican River about 1845. He was killed at Fort Robinson, Nebraska, in 1877, so that he lived barely thirty-three years. He was an uncommonly handsome man. While not the equal of Gall in magnificence and imposing stature, he was physically perfect, an Apollo in symmetry. Furthermore he was a true type of Indian refinement and grace. He was modest and courteous as Chief Joseph; the difference is that he was a born warrior, while Joseph was not. However, he was a gentle warrior, a true brave, who stood for the highest ideal of the Sioux.

Notwithstanding all that biased historians have said of him, it is only fair to judge a man by the estimate of his own people rather than that of his enemies. The boyhood of Crazy Horse was passed in the days when the western Sioux saw a white man but seldom, and then it was usually a trader or a soldier. He was carefully brought up according to the tribal customs. At that period the Sioux prided themselves on the training and development of their sons and daughters, and not a step in that development was overlooked as an excuse to bring the child before the public by giving a feast in its honor. At such times the parents often gave so generously to the needy that they almost impoverished themselves, thus setting an example to the child of self-denial for the general good. His first step alone, the first word spoken, first game killed, the attainment of manhood or womanhood, each was the occasion of a feast and dance in his honor, at which the poor always benefited to the full extent of the parents’ ability. Big-heartedness, generosity, courage, and self-denial are the qualifications of a public servant, and the average Indian was keen to follow this ideal. As every one knows, these characteristic traits become a weakness when he enters a life founded upon commerce and gain. Under such conditions the life of Crazy Horse began. His mother, like other mothers, tender and watchful of her boy, would never once place an obstacle in the way of his father’s severe physical training. They laid the spiritual and patriotic foundations of his education in such a way that he early became conscious of the demands of public service. He was perhaps four or five years old when the band was snowed in one severe winter.

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Jerry Engle turns 25 years of penciled notes into the book “Probie Days” chronicling his life lessons with the 2nd Busiest Engine Company in the Nation that is 100% Volunteer. With Engine Co#33 Running Over 6,573 Runs a Year, It reflects what being a fireman in one of the Nations most violent and deadly areas that was plagued by fire activities normally only seen in big city fire departments.

Prince George’s, Co, Md—AUGUST 15, 2006— Jerry Engle scrapes together his notes and photos spanning 25 years with the Kentland Volunteer Fire Department and in between fire runs, writes a book. Probie Days takes off locally and receives rave reviews from his fellow Firefighters, Lieutenant, Captain, and Fire Chiefs.

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By Hans Christian Andersen

Chapter II

On Monday morning, September 5th, 1819, I saw from the heights of Frederiksburg, Copenhagen, for the first time. At this place I alighted from the carriage, and with my little bundle in my hand, entered the city through the castle garden, the long alley and the suburb.

The evening before my arrival had been made memorable by the breaking out of the so-called Jews quarrel, which spread through many European countries. The whole city was in commotion [Footnote: This remarkable disturbance makes a fine incident in Anderson’s romance of “Only a Fiddler."–M. H.]; every body was in the streets; the noise and tumult of Copenhagen far exceeded, therefore, any idea which my imagination had formed of this, at that time, to me great city.

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This is the first chapter of an autobiographical story that begins in the Northern Ireland of the 1950s and then moves to England, for the most part. It is written in British English and includes some terminology that might be unfamiliar to American readers. But keep reading and I'm sure the context will overcome any slight cultural nuances. By the way, a "biscuit" is the British word for a cookie. It will be helpful to know that as you read the chapter.

-Brian-

Many of us make decisions that set the course of our futures —for good or ill— whilst we’re still only youngsters. For some it might be a decision to do nothing: the easiest of all to make, just allowing ourselves to be tossed around like corks on the sea of life, washing up on any shore, or maybe never seeing shore at all. For others, it might be a decision to take a path in a new direction that, if followed unwaveringly, will yield benefits in our adult years. I’m happy to say that I made the latter kind of decision at the tender age of 15. It was a very good decision, as things turned out, although I didn’t realize that at the time. I’d like to tell you about it.

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www.miltonstern.com

Harriet Lane was the most admired and powerful woman of her time, and she was the first White House Hostess to be called "First Lady."

Harriet Lane, America's First Lady is the only biography of the most fabulous First Lady, who set fashion trends, pushed legislation through Congress, and established the first pediatric teaching hospital in the country. And her taste in decorating and art was not bad either! Just ask the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

She was the niece of America's Bachelor President and his official hostess in Lancaster, London and Washington. Anyone who met her was instantly enamored. Queen Victoria bestowed upon her the title "Honorary Ambassadress." The Washington press corps proclaimed her "Our Democratic Queen." The Chippewa named her "the Great Mother of the Indians." And she was the first White House Hostess to be called "First Lady." Ships were named for her. Songs were written about her. And women dressed like her. She was the most admired woman in the country and established a style of entertaining never before seen in the White House. She was the first of her kind to be an advocate for social causes: hospital and prison reform and the plight of the American Indians. And only she could get away with beating the Prince of Wales at bowling!

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THE WALL

This past weekend I was filming in Washington DC, the city of my birth and as always, felt compelled to revisit The Wall. On it are the names of two of the men that trained me, some of the men I trained with and some of the men I trained. Six men named Smallwood died in Vietnam, none of whom I knew. There should have been seven, but for the grace of God.
Yet to me, the most affecting, the most resonant name there is Paul Savanuck. He was a friend from college; enjoyed guitars and girls and beer and poker, as did I. Paul was easygoing, with a ready smile and sly sense of humor. He was a combat photographer for the Stars & Stripes and died with great valor while trying to protect and rescue several wounded soldiers.

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It is not easy to characterize Sitting Bull, of all Sioux chiefs most generally known to the American people. There are few to whom his name is not familiar, and still fewer who have learned to connect it with anything more than the conventional notion of a bloodthirsty savage. The man was an enigma at best. He was not impulsive, nor was he phlegmatic. He was most serious when he seemed to be jocose. He was gifted with the power of sarcasm, and few have used it more artfully than he.

His father was one of the best-known members of the Unkpapa band of Sioux. The manner of this man’s death was characteristic. One day, when the Unkpapas were attacked by a large war party of Crows, he fell upon the enemy’s war leader with his knife. In a hand-to-hand combat of this sort, we count the victor as entitled to a war bonnet of trailing plumes. It means certain death to one or both. In this case, both men dealt a mortal stroke, and Jumping Buffalo, the father of Sitting Bull, fell from his saddle and died in a few minutes. The other died later from the effects of the wound.

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By Charles A. Eastman

Chief Little Crow was the eldest son of Cetanwakuwa (Charging Hawk). It was on account of his father’s name, mistranslated Crow, that he was called by the whites “Little Crow.” His real name was Taoyateduta, His Red People.

As far back as Minnesota history goes, a band of the Sioux called Kaposia (Light Weight, because they were said to travel light) inhabited the Mille Lacs region. Later they dwelt about St. Croix Falls, and still later near St. Paul. In 1840, Cetanwakuwa was still living in what is now West St. Paul, but he was soon after killed by the accidental discharge of his gun.

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By Charles A. Eastman

EVERY age, every race, has its leaders and heroes. There were over sixty distinct tribes of Indians on this continent, each of which boasted its notable men. The names and deeds of some of these men will live in American history, yet in the true sense they are unknown, because misunderstood. I should like to present some of the greatest chiefs of modern times in the light of the native character and ideals, believing that the American people will gladly do them tardy justice.

It is matter of history that the Sioux nation, to which I belong, was originally friendly to the Caucasian peoples which it met in succession-first, to the south the Spaniards; then the French, on the Mississippi River and along the Great Lakes; later the English, and finally the Americans. This powerful tribe then roamed over the whole extent of the Mississippi valley, between that river and the Rockies. Their usages and government united the various bands more closely than was the case with many of the neighboring tribes.

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By Charles A. Eastman

Among the Sioux chiefs of the “transition period” only one was shrewd enough to read coming events in their true light. It is said of Spotted Tail that he was rather a slow-moving boy, preferring in their various games and mimic battles to play the role of councilor, to plan and assign to the others their parts in the fray. This he did so cleverly that he soon became a leader among his youthful contemporaries; and withal he was apt at mimicry and impersonation, so that the other boys were accustomed to say of him, “He has his grandfather’s wit and the wisdom of his grandmother!”

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By Hans Christian Andersen

Chapter I.

My life is a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met me and said, “Choose now thy own course through life, and the object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the development of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend thee to its attainment,” my fate could not, even then, have been directed more happily, more prudently, or better. The history of my life will say to the world what it says to me–There is a loving God, who directs all things for the best.

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SPIRIT OF THE AGE SERIES: NO. II.

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON:
BY E. BLANTYRE SIMPSON

In his early days, Louis was sociable, pleased when he met compatriot children, ready to be dressed and go to parties. But after he left school, his mood changed. He had been completely sheltered from rebuffs, so, when he stood in the "palace porch of life," and the peculiar accents of his mind were jeered at, he, who had never tasted of a whipping, felt the smart of humankind, and suffered sorely from "maladies incident to only sons." In the "coiled perplexities of youth" he "sorrowed, sobbed, and feared" alone. Blackford's uncultured breast had been meet nurse for Sir Walter when he roamed a truant boy, but further south of the becastled capital, topmost Allermuir or steep Caerketton became the cradle of the next poet and master of Romance that Edinburgh reared.

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