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grammaire anglaise > prépositions > across + N > différents sens

 

 

The Guardian        p. 17        6 July 2007

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


After A Tragic Week,

Many In Minneapolis

Seek Solace In The Sanctuary

 

July 10, 2016

9:37 PM ET

Adrian Florido

 

Worshippers bow their heads as the Rev. David A. Keaton leads them in prayer at the Fellowship Missionary Baptist Church in Minneapolis on Sunday.

Across the nation, people of faith attended services Sunday morning searching for guidance from their religious leaders following the week's violence. In suburban Minneapolis, where school cafeteria supervisor Philando Castile was killed by Officer Geronimo Yanez on Wednesday night, worshippers said the burden felt especially heavy.

At the Fellowship Missionary Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Ethel Rhines, a 50-year-resident of the city, said that after the difficult week, she had come to church in search of "an uplift."

"It takes a toll on a person to see that so much killing is going on," Rhines said. "It stops for a little while, but the next thing you know someone else is being shot, and it starts all over again."

Her pastor, the Rev. David A. Keaton, told his mostly black congregation that he had visited the home of Philando Castile's mother, Valerie Castile, on Saturday, and had been stunned by the resilience of her faith in God, despite her son's killing.

"Isn't that amazing?" he asked. "Her son, not only was he unjustly killed, from what we can see, but ... can you imagine as a mother having to watch and have everyone around you watch your son take his last breaths of life?"

Across town, some seven miles away at the First Universalist Church of Minneapolis, Minister Elaine Aron Tenbrink implored her mostly white congregation to understand that the privilege and power they enjoy for being white is not equally shared by their black and brown neighbors.

"Could there be anything more anathema to what we stand for as people of faith than this?" she asked. Not only do white people benefit from this social arrangement, she said, they also "are socialized to be utterly blind to anything but its most abject manifestations."

She said it was incumbent on white people to use that privilege to help change things for black and brown people, by using their influence on lawmakers and at protests.

"I know it's hard," she said, "But it is not nearly as hard as never hearing your son call your name again, because he has committed the crime of 'driving while black.' "

"I am here with you," she offered, echoing what Diamond Reynolds' 4-year-old daughter can be heard telling her mother as she breaks down in the video showing Philando Castile's final moments.

After A Tragic Week, Many In Minneapolis Seek Solace In The Sanctuary,
NYT,
July 10, 2016,
http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2016/07/10/
485482689/after-a-tragic-week-many-in-minneapolis-seek-solace-in-the-sanctuary

 

 

 

 

 

Across the Nation,

Tragedy Spawned Inspiration

 

September 11, 2011

The New York Times

By THE NEW YORK TIMES

 

FRISCO, Colo. — The Sunday after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, several dozen friends climbed a mountain to make a declaration, and to do something to work off their anxieties and terrible energy. It was partly a statement of brawn and youth. They carried a 10-by-16-foot American flag, along with 20 feet of steel pipe for a pole, up 10 miles of trail to a nearly 13,000-foot summit. There, they gathered thousands of pounds of rocks to anchor the flag against the ferocious winds that can scour the peaks here. And then it was done.

On Sunday morning, many of the same friends — older and definitely in a different spirit — gathered at the trailhead to Peak 1 of the Ten Mile Range and headed up once more.

They again carried a flag, but there would be no attempt this time to mount a grand declaration visible for miles about America and its determination, grit and resilience. In the parking lot near the trailhead just after sunrise, there was talk of a moment of silence at the top, and maybe some songs.

“Whether we have a big pole and flag is irrelevant,” said Dave Simmons, 40, a master brewer at a local beer hall who was on the first trek. “We’re going to look out over these beautiful mountains for all the people who can’t.”

The saga of the flag-bearers of Frisco — their plan scrawled on a cocktail napkin on the night of the attacks in 2001, to hike, raise money for the Red Cross, plant a flag — created its own web of healing, loss and anger in this ski town 90 minutes west of Denver.

In 2003, after the group had climbed twice more near the anniversary of the attacks to replace the weather-shredded flag, it was found burned, the pole bent and trashed, with a note attached condemning the United States invasion of Iraq that year.

A criminal investigation went nowhere.

“I know all the usual suspects — I talked to them, and they swore they didn’t do it,” said Gary Lindstrom, a former police officer, who was a Summit County commissioner at the time. Mr. Lindstrom said in an interview last week that he has puzzled over the flag attack, and the local political passions it stirred, ever since.

Things changed after the flag burning. The United States Forest Service, which had tolerated the presence of a technically illegal monument on public land, pulled back its support and threatened new flag-raisers with arrest. Kurt Kizer, a landscaper and self-described ski bum who also was on the first hike — it was his scrawl on the napkin that sketched out the plan — was also back again on Sunday. He said the time for anger and retribution was over.

“They know what they did, and they have to live with it,” he said.

And so in the early morning chill, under brilliant blue skies — some hikers using trekking poles they did not need a decade ago to bolster creaky knees — they headed up together, making a declaration of a different kind in a different time: that perseverance and keeping on were statements worth making too. KIRK JOHNSON

Downsized Dreams

PEMBROKE PINES, Fla. — Like so much else in Florida these days, the ambitious and touching 9/11 memorial unveiled in this small town on a broiling Sunday was jolted hard by the recession.

It began small, with a request in 2004 for a chunk of steel from the remnants of the World Trade Center’s twin towers and the idea of a small but fitting tribute. It grew large, with 11 tons of marble for one sculpture and sheets of steel for four others. Then it got even bigger, with requests for a $1 million glass building to house the sculptures.

But reality — as well as the few choice words of a Pembroke Pines commissioner and the reluctance of taxpayers who balked at the cost — took hold. In the end, the memorial is a testament to tragedy, courage and perseverance. But also to compromise and common sense: the steel and marble sculptures stand outside under a gazebo at a cost of $167,000, which it is hoped will be repaid through donations.

“This was designed to be delivered to the residents of Pembroke Pines at no cost to them,” said Angelo Castillo, a city commissioner here and New York City transplant who asked Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg for a piece of steel. “And my original concept was much more modest.”

“Sometimes it was difficult, but what we have here, at the end of the day, is something spectacular,” Mr. Castillo said.

The people in the crowd that pushed into the gazebo after the bagpipes grew quiet and the speeches ended could not have agreed more. To them, the cost and controversy are irrelevant.

“It’s a moot point,” said Elizabeth Ennis, 44, a physician’s assistant who lives here. “It’s a statement from the community that we stand together.”

Four towering steel sculptures ring the gazebo. One depicts a larger-than-life New York City firefighter, his jacket flapping in the wind. He is straddled by jagged towers of steel, representing the trade center’s north and south towers. A child stares resolutely from the top of a pile of steel.

The city could not afford bronze, so Felix Gonzalez, the sculptor and a retired Miami-Dade County firefighter, welded the steel. The materials were donated or came from discretionary county funds. The artists, who spent years on the project, donated their time (Mr. Gonzalez receive a $20,000 stipend).

“People came out to watch me make these at an abandoned firehouse on the edge of the Everglades,” he said. “Firefighters from New York City stood there and cried and hugged me. It kept me going.”

In the center of the gazebo lies the four-sided marble sculpture, which represents shock, grief, acceptance and rebuilding. Faceless forms cower, fall from the sky, pray, protect each other and then rise toward the sky. At the top, rests the chunk of steel from the twin towers.

“These people who died were bigger than life,” said Benoit Menasche, the 74-year-old sculptor. “How can I not give them something bigger than life.” LIZETTE ALVAREZ

Search for Renewal

NATCHEZ, Miss. — “This date is a sign.”

So began the Rev. Jon Shonebarger, and so began the Faith Independent Baptist Church, which as of Sunday morning consisted of a Facebook page, a stack of Bibles and brochures and a dozen people in a meeting room at a Hampton Inn.

Here there was nothing of the solemn grandeur of ground zero in New York, nothing remotely evocative of the sepulchral concrete hollows, the towers that surround them and the sense of world-altering catastrophe that lingers over them. Here there was coffee and muffins and hotel carpeting, and mostly empty rows of chairs.

Pastor Shonebarger had no particular connection to the tragedy himself. He was at a church in Oakley, Kan., at the time of the terrorist attacks, moved to Colorado for a few years afterward and since January 2010 has been the chaplain at the correctional facility outside of town here, ministering to “2,600 inmates from 71 nations of the world,” he says with a little pride.

“I deal with people from third world nations,” he said. And then, leading into his reasons for starting this church, he added, “I’m seeing America turn into something it doesn’t want to be.”

“I believe that there was something that happened in this country, a coming together,” he said of those first few days after the attacks. “There was, if I can say this, an awakening.”

Pastor Shonebarger was speaking not only, or even primarily, of the political and patriotic unity of that time. Churches were full, he said. Prayer groups were crowded.

But something went wrong. He spoke of poverty and unemployment, of natural disasters, and of spiritual drift. “Ten years later, America is in bad shape,” he said. “Why did I choose this date? I chose this date for a reason.”

His prologue finished, Pastor Shonebarger announced the day’s Scripture reading. The congregation turned to Philippians and they set off on the reawakening.

 

CAMPBELL ROBERTSON

Across the Nation, Tragedy Spawned Inspiration,
NYT,
11.9.2011,
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/12/us/
12vingettes.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Voir aussi > Anglonautes > Grammaire anglaise

 

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