Blog archive
February 2025
A Beginning of Healing
02/03/2025
Hectic Evacuation From Eaton Canyon Fire
02/02/2025
Hurricanes and Fires are Different Monsters
02/02/2025
January 2025
At Dawn by Ed Mervine
01/31/2025
Thank you for Relief Efforts
01/31/2025
Status - January 30, 2025
01/30/2025
Needs as of January 25, 2025
01/24/2025
Eaton Fire Information
01/23/2025
Fires in LA Occupy Our Attention
01/22/2025
Escape to San Diego
01/19/2025
Finding Courage Amid Tragedy
01/19/2025
Responses of Pasadena Village Jan 29, 2025
01/18/2025
A Tale of Three Fires
01/14/2025
Some thoughts on 8 minutes, 46 seconds
By Margo HalstedPosted: 02/01/2021
I can’t breathe. Eight minutes, forty-six seconds. I can’t breathe.
George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery . . .
Videos (thank God for them), TV, newspapers, protesters . . .
I’ve not fully understood how a Black person feels.
I am learning.
I never capitalized Black before.
I had some Black friends at junior and senior high school. They had to walk a long way to school, literally “from across the tracks”.
My mother-in-law many years ago said she understood that I had been friends with Black students in school. “But you never would dance with one, would you?” she asked. I responded that I had. She didn’t believe me or didn’t want to believe me.
My Black hairdresser would tell me how her son was pulled over by a cop almost every day on his way to work. She had other very scary stories about her other son and the police.
So far, the only other ways I’ve actually made a difference have been to make a donation to the NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund, Inc. (LFD) and to the Los Angeles Chapter of BLM.
I am learning.