Tag: my America

Refugees Are My Neighbors

Refugees aren’t strangers walking off a plane — not permanently. One of my mentors was a North African refugee 30 or 40 years before we met, and now cooks spaghetti and hassles me about whether I’m living up to my potential. A college dormmate of mine was part of a family granted asylum after persecution in the USSR; she teased me for watching Twin Peaks seven years after eveyone else. A lost boy of Sudan is a member of my church. I’ve known him for maybe a decade. He’s getting a law degree now. These are my neighbors. This is my America.

The Rose Parade

If you missed the Rose Parade (or want to watch it again, newly flush with the knowledge that it’s my and my Dad’s favorite parade), I highly recommend KTLA’s coverage, which is essentially perfect: it shows the entire parade straight through, with great camera coverage, no commercials, and no cutaways to talking heads. Best parade; best possible televisual presentation of a parade. There are real dogs on real surfboards, miniature horses dressed as unicorns, marching bands from Tennessee and Japan, folklorico dancers, a float by the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, a dove-release dedicated to the Pulse nightclub, and too many gorgeous blooms to count. Get you a dose.

(The stream definitely works from outside of the US. Did for me.)