Politics

Tolerance, Values, and a Polka Dot House

by Jane Devin on 05/06/2012

I recently came across this news article about Jim Deitz and his neighbor’s complaints about painting his two-story rental complex with colorful polka dots. It’s not that unusual of a story. A homeowner gets creative, vengeful, or even desperate and an uproar ensues. Such homes are generally thought to be eyesores, ruining the aesthetic of an otherwise [...]

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I’m Not Over It — Are You?

by Jane Devin on 03/30/2012

When I was 17, I worked in a factory where a young woman was targeted for harassment. Racist notes were left on her car windshield and break room locker. Management seemed blase about the threats, even after the girl’s tires were slashed. Eventually, I joined two other workers (out of a couple of hundred) who [...]

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Tuesday, October 6: One Day, No Hate

by Jane Devin on 09/30/2009

1976, Clayton Junior High. The jocks against the hoods. Me and others somewhere in the middle or maybe on the outside — nerds, bookworms, artists-in-waiting, ROTC members, goody two-shoes. We were too uncoordinated to excel in sports, too scared of getting in trouble to be really bad, and too much (or too little) of something [...]

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Radio Flyer is a small 1992 film about two brothers, Mike and Bobby, who invent a flying machine out of a little red wagon so that Bobby can escape the brutal abuse he regularly suffers at the hands of his drunken stepfather. The end of the film never baffled me. It seemed clear that Bobby’s [...]

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Mobs, Guns & Cloaks

by Jane Devin on 08/18/2009

When I was nine years old, I was very excited about ordering the Jumping Spider toy that Bazooka Bubble Gum was offering for .25 cents and a few wrappers. After I sent off my envelope, I waited for the mailman every day like some kids wait for Santa Claus. The summer ended, school began, winter [...]

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The Zucchini Stimulus

by Jane Devin on 02/19/2009

I was a 16 year-old wanna-be love child in a lace shirt, faded jeans, and moccasin boots. Bill was a real 30-something hippie, who had camped out at Woodstock and demonstrated at Berkeley. He drove an old Volkswagon Bug the color of chewed-up Wrigley’s gum, and was fond of quoting both Carlos Castaneda and Ayn [...]

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