Beautiful Changes for the Better

My best friend recently posted up a conversation she had with her high school self. It was beautiful and thought provoking. I ended up posting something on her page that was probably long-winded and made little sense, but it was thought provoking.

High school is a picnic for no one. Everyone gets beaten up, chased, crushed, broken, or hurt. If the "high school" experience is anything like mine and my friends' then life became the motto "fake it 'til you make it."

My group of friends suffered through a bus crash and the death of a teacher at the beginning of the year. That left the rest of the year to not mourn, crumble, feel guilty, and fake through it. Yes, yes, the school gave them grief counselors, but I don't think any of my friends actually went to see any of them unless they were told to do so that one time. What high school student wants to talk about feelings other than how cute that boy/girl is? Answer: maybe .001%.

We were all hiding behind masks of desperation for normality. Some might be faking it still. If we faked it well enough we could convince ourselves that we were "fine" just like everyone wanted us to be. All the while inside we wanted to throw up, cut, scream, sleep, and wither away under a rock where no one would find us suffering.

This photo is one I took at the Springville Art Museum at the end of my senior year (that is why the quality is horrendous). It was made by a student in our county who easily portrayed what was going on. Sadly, now I don't know who created it, but it is beautiful.

As I came to realize just how broken my friends had become (they had taken the brunt of damage of senior year while I tried to run back and forth from the front lines to the medic tent--or so I thought), I started to hate the facade. The fakeness of people and how the displayed themselves. Why couldn't they show the one face that they really were? At the time I didn't realize how childish that was. I hadn't realized the scope of the break that had happened in my friends and I also didn't realize how very complicated a person without that type of break can be. Everything had made sense in my innocent little brain so the complications didn't compute.

A few weeks after the art exhibit where I saw the painting above, we went up Provo Canyon just past Sundance where we had our "Senior Sluff Day" (sluff meaning "to cut class," but this was all official and sanctioned by the school so it was really more of a Senior Field Trip). The place where my friends and I hung out most at this giant park that had food, trampolines, giant fields to play sports, etc. was the little, western village. It was large enough for tall boys to barely stand up in. We could climb on top of the sheriff's station, play in the little stagecoach, sway in an ol' timey looking swing, or sit on old chairs and talk. I had gotten my camera a few months before then and had taken too many pictures. So many of them were staged. At one point my friends stood on top of a building and I had them pose, click, pose, click, pose, click, pose... Toward the end of the day, one of my friends, realizing I wasn't in any pictures, slightly on purpose, made me give up my camera so then she could take a picture of me. Like all the rest of them, I posed in my little rocking chair trying to look thoughtful staring off into space at the splintered, yellow door of the replica building we were closest too. So much about this day was brutally false. And we all did our best to ignore the shiny, plastic faces we were all putting on. The smiles, the laughs, the constant talking (though I would hope that some of my favorite times were real to those around me as well) were to hide the panicked, deer-eyed emotions we felt inside.

I honestly thought I could fix everyone. That my presence could mend their hurts from the crash, from the history of violences a friend had gone through, from the ache of breakups, from everything. For a while I thought I could be the mother and fix everyone's booboos with a hug and a kiss (much like I do with my 4-year-old now) then I could send them on their way to play. We could hang out and have everything be like it was the summer before everything got so messed up with boys and bus crashes. The butterfly band-aids I tried to place weren't on skinned knees or a blister. They had tried to cover up severed arteries and third degree burns.

The little I tried to do I hope was helpful instead of causing more of an infection. To one of my friends, because of emotion and compressed anger, I killed our relationship with a dull knife. In what she had thought would have been a moment to band together, it died slowly over the years as we tried to get it back together. But anger infection set in and it festered to other relationships as well.

I am so imperfect, especially when it comes to other people. Complications set in whenever someone else is involved. But as time has passed I've grown and learned that not all complications are bad. Hard, yes. Bad, not all the time.

My friend's posts, mentioned earlier, drew an emphasis of hope. Things got better after high school. The arteries have been cauterized, often by someone outside our original group of friends. Change happens and it is good.

For myself, I've realized that I was hurting too, though at the time I had fooled myself. Not only at the end of school when romances exploded, but at the beginning when I was scrambling to pick up broken friends. I didn't know what to do so I faked it until I made it out of high school and that first term of college. That was a brutal year. We were thrown into situations that we couldn't have expected and changed to survive it. Now that time has passed the fire has died down, though can still flare up, we change to find who this new person is that we've become.

I very much like the movie Inside Out (Pixar, 2015) for many reasons. But at the end (SPOILER ALERT!!!) Riley has lost all of her islands of personality. One by one she loses them and stops being herself. Once Joy and Sadness get back to Headquarters, Riley doesn't get her islands back. She forms a new one taking in that experience and growing from it. Riley isn't quite the goofball she was before and has taken on a little more of a serious tone where she doesn't want her parents showing up to every game. She changed as major events happened and has found a way to be okay with them. As can we.

Over the years new things have happened. I am a wife and a real mom where I can give hugs and kiss booboos and have my son be okay. I have been published twice. I have read more books in the past year and a half than I ever thought I would. I've finished a novella and am working on the second draft. I've realized I get seasonal depression and how important it is to be social. I've gained more friends in my community and church than I thought I would five years ago (mom's stick together like that if you try). I've learned that it's okay to leave the dishes for tomorrow if I have to. Naps are amazing things. I've learned when I get angry I don't scream, but do little things that drive my husband nuts. I've learned that parents need time outs too, again I'll say naps are amazing. I've learned how friends are important and that the people in your group often changes and that old friends can be acquaintances and it's okay.

The most important thing that has changed, but has always actually been a constant, is my love of Jesus Christ. My testimony of Him has become much stronger since becoming married and teaching my son. I've gained more faith because of circumstances and blessings than I had thought I needed. We all need more faith. So many people are scared of what the future holds in politics, world affairs, calamities, and natural disasters. But what we need to remember is that "Faith and fear cannot coexist at the same time" (Elder Neal L. Anderson, "You Know Enough," Oct 2008). Jesus Christ said, "Be not afraid, only believe" (KJV, Mark 5: 36). If we are doing what is right and have faith in Christ, God will always be there to protect us and get us to where we need to be. Many of us have very important things we need to do, many don't realize it, but Father will get us to where we are needed often in miraculous ways.

"Be not afraid, only believe" because Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have our backs through whatever beautiful or agonizing changes we will be going through. Whatever trials we will face, They will be there to help us be better and lift us up.







Inside Out Image: http://screenrant.com/inside-out-movie-reviews-2015/
Christ Photo (Provo Tabernacle Fire 2010): http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=13725181 
Other photos are my own. 

If It Isn't Written Down, It Never Happened

I am a big history buff. I love reading about stories of people who lived before me whether they are my ancestors who crossed plains or horse thieves, or the crazy stories of how Empress Elizabeth of Austria got stabbed and didn't die until her corset was removed that night. There are many fascinating things that can be found in history in old tomes, on sculptures, and as bits of pottery.

There were many people who did amazing things throughout history. But, sadly, because events and names weren't written down, they are lost to us. It is as if they never existed then though they might have actually changed the world. Over time, even if a tale is retold and given from generation to generation, things change with each telling. Instead of saying that a man who had done something extraordinary who also had an extra finger, he, over there years, gets an extra arm or has two heads. Things become warped and they aren't what really happened. This can partially be said for the written word. Second hand accounts or those from someones memory can become faulty. Our recollection is skewed by our emotions or the heat of the moment.

I often think of cop shows where they ask someone to give a description of the bad guy they saw during an armed robbery or something. They give those witnesses over to a sketch artist and amazingly the witness give a very good description of the guy the police are looking for. I know if I had to talk to a sketch artist, I wouldn't be able to do as good a job as the witnesses on cop shows. I can hardly recall the face of the man I was helping three minutes ago. Was he bald? Short light hair? Was his jacket blue or black....? I think he had a big nose. If he were to come back, I'd probably be very wrong.

As we look back in history though, unless they were rich and had a portrait made of them, we don't know what they looked like exactly. The tapestries found in medieval  castles weren't of individual people with every person's name on it. How often in the past did they even have all the names of each soldier in their ranks on a piece of paper? I have a feeling there were more numbers listed instead of all of the family names.

I'm also aware of the practice "Damnatio memoriae" where peoples names were erased. As Wikipedia points out, it was much easier to do anciently when documents were fewer and far between. Here you could blot out the name with ink on every registry they were a part of or chisel their names from the family stone tablet or memorial. In Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, they do this to Sirius when they thought he did wrong.

The idea that history is written through the eyes of the victors isn't something new. It is something every historian is aware of. Only half the story is being told and often times it is written through shaded lenses to show the victors as the most angelic person in the world--often times, though not all. This historiography is something that has become big among historians within the last few decades, if not longer; to not only take what is written on the page but what is between the lines of text that explains the reasoning behind why the author is writing it.

My point of thought that led me on this rampage is something that I've thought on a lot. In my own writings, I've written about it through as many different views in trying to understand what happened. Sadly, the incident that has shaped my life and the lives of many around me, isn't something easy to talk about. Though I always find a way to discuss it in the month of October. Not only did the month and anniversary of the accident get me starting to think again, but another, very similar, accident happened just a few weeks ago where.

On Sept 19, 2016, there was a charter bus crash in North Carolina that took the lives of four members of the University of God's Chosen football team.This is awful and sad and awfully sad. Not many people know what it's like to survive a bus crash or how it affects those around you. I don't know what it is like to survive a bus crash, but I have seen how it has effected many of my friends. There boys in North Carolina will be going through some very trying years following this. PTSD will come in at times and change the way they see things. Next time they see flashing lights they may have panic attacks or suddenly freeze. Some may try cutting or even attempt suicide now that the survivor's guilt has kicked in, which doesn't take long. Many more may hide in shells and pretend like nothing happened until they can't take it anymore and crack; they will be found lying face down, still breathing, but aching and wishing they could melt into the carpet or tile. Their friends won't know what to do. We don't know what to do. My deepest sympathies and empathizes go out to those football players, family, friends, and everyone else around them.

My own story (actually it's not really mine. I was a bystander, which makes it hard as well as some people don't realize) starts on October 10th, 2009. On a return trip from a marching band competition, My high school lost a teacher and friend that night when a bus overturned and the instructor was thrown from the window saving the rest of the students. I never knew Heather, but I am grateful for her sacrifice and love to help keep my friend safe. Miracles were performed that night through little things and big hearts. It was amazing; in the few days that followed  the accident, marching bands from all over the country sent flowers, cards, and other notes of love, hope, wishes, and prayers were sent to the school. They had so much support from outside that I don't anyone really expected.

 Their program that year was based originally on the "Greatest Generation" (also something I talked about recently) and their sacrifice for our freedoms. They dedicated their program to her and added a beautiful moment when they presented her picture. She was part of the "Greatest Generation" though she was born decades late.

There were so many things that happened around that time. It has been seven years since the accident. There have been so many changes in people and circumstances since it happened. But still there are many who can't speak about it. Can't read about it. Can't write about it. Over the years, I know they've tried, some have been able to get through the whole night but their words are cold and distant. Others can't get past certain points where it just stops. I realize that some memories are harder to digest than others. Some can throw you back into those moments of anxiety or stress. That loss that sinks deep in your stomach and plummets you into the deepest part of the sea. You can't breathe because the depression fills your lungs, head, and heart with invisible water.

I'm not saying to force yourself down those roads if it will cause you to do something reckless. I'm not saying to write and read about the experience over and over again so then you force yourself to feel something when you are the numbest you've been in months/years. There are better ways to cope that would be best told to you by a counselor.

But what I am saying is when you get to the point, whatever or whenever that moment is, share it. There are so many others out there that are hurting from similar circumstances, you'd really be surprised, and they can use some encouragement. They need your voice to realize, they aren't alone. Maybe you are in the boat where you need to find other's voices, search. Find the words. Make your own to help others. Other people know how to give CPR when it comes to tragedies because they've been there. They can help you breath, purge the water from your lungs, from your heart. Then you can learn how to do it too.

But don't only speak of it. Write it down so then it's not forgotten. Journaling or essay or blog. There are many ways to influence others. Elizabeth Smart  is one of the best examples that I have of this idea. She was kidnapped when I was little, when she was little. The was abused by her kidnapper and was finally found nine months later. But now she is married, which many would have understood her not doing so because of what she experienced, and is a motivational speaker for women who have been abused, for women who have been raped or molested. She empowers women in her words and her book, My Story. She has made changes to the world around her so than girls who have been through similar circumstances that she has don't have to go through it alone. They don't have to feel like they are nothing because they were raped. They can feel like powerful women who don't have to remain victims all their lives. They can move forward, move on, and help others to breathe.

And you can do it too. For future generations as well as those who are around you currently. Speak. Write. Gather your courage and face it with the help of those around you, counselors if necessary.

Everyone has a story to tell. Write it down. Anyone can be a positive influence and make the best out of a bad situation.






Pictures by: 
Books: http://whytoread.com/world-history-books-everyone-must-read/
Sirius: "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix"
North Carolina Bus: http://www.kxlh.com/story/33124380/10-year-old-son-of-football-coach-among-dead-in-nc-bus-crash
Heather: http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/charges-possible-in-american-fork-band-bus-crash/article_7356f13b-3557-5403-9124-b1e56366dea0.html
Elizabeth Smart: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Smart_kidnapping

Essays, Movies, and a Way of Seeing

We all see different things when we go about our lives. We may share the same experience, same situation, but come out very different people afterward. This could go very deep and say people need to do this thing or that thing and we will all be happy, but that's not what this thought is. Fooled you, didn't I?

Probably not.

I had a friend over the other day, a non-English major (not that there is anything wrong with those people. :P ) who didn't spend all of her time in college thinking about thesis' and essay/the proper way to write an essay with an intro, thesis, three paragraphs/subjects for the body, and a nice wrapped up conclusion for the ending. She wasn't one who spent lots of time thinking about particular book analysis of characters, setting, dialogue, and plot points. I think a lot of the most important parts of my college career was learning to look at the little details. We were told to study this essay, read this book and diagnose the character as this type or that type of person, and make sure you look at each word in your essay to make sure it is the right one. Draft after draft after draft. Watch the word and the context to be in the just right place for your voice and your thesis. Overall it felt like I was being pulled through the same mud puddle for five years.

But I'm really happy to say that, unlike math, I've been able to use my English Major and the things I learned in my class in real life applications. WHAT!?! Yeah, awesome right?

My career is Mother and all that it entails (which is an incredibly long list of responsibilities and awesomeness). So, one would think that I wouldn't use it much, but I surprisingly do. Finding the little things in movies that I can talk about with my child to hopefully better him (as well as myself), being able to be articulate when talking (which is funny because I had a hard time finding the right word for that. :D ) to my neighbors or friends, and hopefully being able to slow my children the love of reading and thinking for yourself.

Back to my friend, she was visiting me as my son was watching Dreamworks Kung Fu Panda 3. We got talking about it a little and the Kai came on scene with his amazing theme music. I said, "Oh, I love this part, the music plays along with his knives/sword things and sets the mood for the battle they are going to have, but then when Po interrupts the monologue it brings so much of the personality..." etc. She looked at me and smiled, because she a very smiley lady who makes my day, and said "I've never thought about it that way. I've seen it a bunch of times, but never thought of that." I'd loved it the second time his theme song come on in the movie theater.

Had my view changed so much? Did I pay attention to movies and books and the interpretations that can come from them a few years ago? It wasn't so long ago when I just enjoyed movies for movies sake.

Now that I think about it, when the Warner Brother's movie Sucker Punch came out in 2011, I loved it. To me, it was a live action anime where girls could kickbutt and blow crap up. It was a good blowy-uppy movie when I needed one. And that was before I even saw it in the movie theater with my friends. After seeing it, and being enveloped in the metaphors and story-inside-story-inside-story motif like in the classic Frankenstein. I thought it was an ingenious way to display something that happened in an all female asylums with male staff and present it in a way that was artistic and not.....risque? It showed a way that some patients coped with being in there and kind of made them crazy. I loved Sucker Punch far more than my other friends because I was fascinated by the metaphor that flowed throughout the whole piece. It was beautiful. They didn't see it that way.

And again recently, I commented on Facebook how much I loved Ellen Parr (AKA Elasta Girl) on Pixar's Incredibles. I mentioned just how awesome she was and how she is set up to be the stereotypical mom who has to be stretched in  so many different directions and is often stretched super thin (pun intended) to take care of her family. (Much like the way Mr. Incredible is the strong father, Violet is the invisible daughter, Dash is a little boy who never stops running, and Jak Jak is a monster baby where he changes mood/skin? in an instant.) A few people commented on how they hadn't seen that and wouldn't have if I hadn't have said anything.

Am I just really weird in that I analyze many of the stories around me? I look at the setting and characters, dialogue and plot and see more than other people. I know I don't get all of it. Sometimes I'm actually very slow when it comes to things foreshadowed three chapters earlier. Or some of my friends, my husband especially, see a twist in a book or movie miles before I do.

Am I weird? Yes. But in my weirdness I find so much more than other people do. I find a bit more beauty in the things I surround myself in.

My way of seeing is different than yours and that's great. For both of us. For all of us.

Embrace your inner weirdo. Love your inner nerd.





Sucker Punch: http://www.warnerbros.com/sucker-punch
Kung Fu Panda 3: https://fanart.tv/movie/140300/kung-fu-panda-3/
The Incredibles : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Incredibles

History Through the Eyes of the Victors

This morning my husband's radio went off so then he could get ready for work. The lawn mower was going past our window of our apartment, so it took us a few minutes to become aware of the two men on my husband's talk radio channel. I was aroused just enough to hear something about history and my dreamy mind thought of my high school history classes. I loved my high school and the teachers there. English, history, and art were my favorite classes by leaps and bounds. 

But as my sleepy mind worked through groggy memories the thought of "we never get past World War II" came into my head. And it was true. From the time I remember really learning about history in the fourth grade when we learned in depth about Utah history and how we Mormon's came to settle here (which is well and good for a fourth grader) to my last few days in my AP history classes, we could never get past WWII. I know of the Korean war because of M*A*S*H* and the Vietnam War because of Operation Dumbo Drop (both awesome shows that everyone should watch) I have never learned anything about Nixon or Reagan or even the presidency of JFK except for the hearsay of "Watergate, blah blah, blah," "Actor, blah blah blah," "Assassination and brother's death, blah blah blah." Unless we did some random Wikipedia searching or students actually went to their public library, we learned nothing of the Cold War or the African revolts. Honestly, I still have no idea what the first Gulf War was about. I don't know what made Reagan such a great president, except for I think that he was the one who told Putin to "tear down this wall". I don't know anything about any of the other Presidents that we have had in my parent's lifetime, who's actions as President, as well as those in the cabinets, are a reason why we have problems today. (Recent Presidencies and policies are not out of that reasoning as well.)

If I, who is a history buff, don't know these things, what about those who hate history classes and think it's boring? Is that do to the fact that we learned the same history lessons every time we had a new history class? We learned of the Pilgrims (maybe), Battle of Concord and Lexington, Battle of Bunker Hill, the Alamo (big maybe), a gold rush and brief movements of peoples across country, Gettysburg and every single move they made while at that farm (Chamberlain was awesome, but we spent more days discussing it than the actual battle), Archduke Franz Ferdinand being the match that started WWI, the battles of Western front of WWII (but nothing of the Pacific Theater except for Hiroshima and Iwo Jima). Then when we reach the Paris Peace Conference and maybe a little into the Cold War (no later than 1950 though, we don't want to push it) is when finals would hit and we would miss the last fifty years our history. Every single year. 

We are forced to take these history classes and maybe memorize the Presidents of the U.S., but we learn nothing new. We block our U.S. History classes into the years 1775-ish to 1950. Even into college, when our required courses says we have to take History of the U.S. again! (for the tenth time) we never got past that point. We spend so much time being fed lecture after lecture with baby
spoons and don't touch potentially hot topics that are more recent. We kept slavery to plantations. I don't ever recall talking about Martin Luther King, Jr. in any of my history classes (now this may be vastly different in other parts of the country where the is a much higher African American population; Utah's is very small in that regard so it doesn't get touched often). The only mention of hippies or the War on Drugs is from my parents who lived during that time. 

Why couldn't we get past the Battle of the Bulge?

I understand that politics are hard to teach and keep the high school students, who are already sleeping, attentive and receptive. I know I hated my Government and Citizenship class my Senior year of high school. I didn't like it because we were learning the branches of government again, something we learned almost every year in all of our history classes. The other topics our teacher chose were the same one's we would have in our next class period (U.S. history). She did have us get news articles that we were to discuss in class, but no one really knew what was going on or why it was happening.  No one knew the background to the circumstances of which we were living. And what high school student is going to look dumb by asking?

The teachers, is seems, are forced to still teach to the test. For AP classes, that's all it was. Know Voltaire to Nietzsche to Marx and to have us come to our own conclusions about the text. He gave us histories and maps and didn't focus on every single battle of the French Revolution. We had a lot of context to cover, but we saw how the world moved. I came to finally understand why Spain isn't the powerhouse it once was and how England came to be so.
these pieces of art, know this person, know the reasons for this battle 300 years ago in France. Why do we need to know it? It's on the test. While I learned a lot from my AP European History teacher (because we weren't taught these things in any other class), he was still teaching to the test. Though, he taught us as if we were college students. He gave us primary sources to read from

That AP Euro class has become one of my favorites. However, I wish we would have talked about Eastern Europe. In college, I took a Europe: 19 Century class. My professor had an emphasis in her degree on the French Revolution. She wanted to spend a lot of time there. We spent three weeks guillotines and bloody messes.. We only have three and a half months on everything in Europe during the 1800's. I was sorely disappointed in that class. There were so many Eastern European countries who barely got fifteen minutes in the entire three and a half months. Those countries and their histories were the reason I took the class and the questions I did have she didn't have answers for and didn't direct me to a proper source. She also spent more time with us, the students, teaching the class when we had no idea what we were doing. 

I ended up learning more about Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia (the little countries between Poland and Russia) by reading Between Shades of Grey by Ruta Sepetys, who got most of her research from her family who was there, than any of my history classes taught. In class, we never talked about the Soviets taking over countries and what they did to the people. These people froze up in Siberia and were carted around in railway cars like the Germans did the Jews. Maybe it was mentioned that x-million people died in Russia by their own government, but we never learned why or how.

It was only through my Chinese History class in college that I learned about the Rape of Nanking what the Japanese did during WWII to the Chinese. How it was a holocaust in three weeks. Up to 300,000 unarmed civilians were brutally killed and/or raped. We never learned about that in high school, in any of the world history classes. 

And what is truly horrible is when governments to hide their own faults and wrongdoings, accidents or otherwise, they seal documents and keep other stories from being heard. I was reading an article online about the Cap Arcona  a ocean liner that was turned into a prisoner's ship during WWII. It is extremely sad what happened, but no one will fess up to the destruction of the ship or the thousands of concentration camp prisoners who died. A judgement can't be filed because the documents have been sealed until 2045 when all who would have been prosecuted for it are long past dead. All those people who died, and those who survived and lost loved ones, still don't have justice. 

**********

You get the point. I could seriously go on pages of the things that I had to find out myself outside of the curriculum. I do it, because I enjoy reading. I do it, because I enjoy the characters/real people who were there, whose stories are being silenced and need to be told. 

I try to do family history. I'm not very good at it and my dedication is slacking, but I try. All of those people, all of your ancestors, had their own stories. Whether it is about a little farmer from Illinois fifty years ago,or a mother in Nanking during WWII or the chambermaid of Charlemagne in the 700's or even one of the Pharaoh's servants who saw Moses and lost a child. 

We can learn a lot from history. We need to learn it otherwise "we are doomed to repeat it," as the saying goes. We will repeat it if we are unaware of what is going on presently. Our history classes are good(-ish) at giving us our history from the far distant past. There is a lot to learn. 

What our history classes have forgotten, or what they are told not to tell us because it's not on the AP test, is the modern history. The things that have happened recently that influence us now can keep us from repetition. Documents are being kept from us, the people of old and now. We don't get the full truth because the people who are supposed to represent us are keeping things from us. Even in National Treasure 2, there is a Book of Secrets that only Presidents can read. Look back at Nixon; look back at Benghazi, look at the potential candidates for the Presidency in 2016. There are so many secrets, hidden things, and lies that flutter around in the media shadow, so then we will vote or act a certain way.  

If we don't learn our modern history from those who actually understand having been there or have done the research, as we just as gullible and illiterate as the peasants during the dark ages. If we don't know what's going on (especially us millennials who haven't understood the past presidencies and haven't been taught the last fifty or sixty years) we will be taken advantage of by people who know and run the system. 

Our history books have been written by the victors over us. 

Tear down the false media. Find the primary sources and make your own conclusions, not just reading the commentaries of others opinions. 

Take initiative. 

Learn another language and read the older texts. 

Make sure the younger generations knows cursive; if they don't, they can't read those older documents unless they have someone else translate/alter them. 

Read the Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights. 

Find other opinions that aren't like your own. Learn why they have it. The reason will enlighten you even if you don't change your own opinion. Discussion, not argument, is vital. 

For the modern history, talk. Discuss with neighbors and family and older friends. Find out what they did during the 60's and 70's besides discoing with bellbottomed pants. They have vast amounts of knowledge to offer if you could just talk and tap into it. 

We need to do something to change the way the system is being run. The best way to do that is to become informed and act, not with hostility and anger, but with dedication and understanding and kindness. Intelligence, courage, and kindness will go a long way if we want change, which we desperately need.




Thank you Wikipedia.org and Google Search: History Books for pictures.