Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Slovenia dramatically increases troops in Kosovo
Father Claims Jelena Dokic was Kidnapped
National Geographic Article on Thracian Heritage Stirs up Scandal in Bulgaria
Further information on exhumations of war victims carried by the river into Serbia
How do you say 'mojado' in Serbian?
Death Threats to BHT1 Journalist
Pie Killers Sentanced in Serbia
I think they mean the 'pita killers' or perhaps the 'burek killers' people in Serbia eat more of those than of 'pies' as the concept is understood in the States.
Seselj Refuses to Appear in Court
Not that regular readers of this space didn't already know it, but another article anyway.
Neretva Under Threat
Everyone wondered if any good spy thrillers could be written when the Soviet Union era ended. I think these constitute exhibits A and B that there is matierial anyway for a post Soviet genre of spy thrillers.
An Old School Mole in Our Times!
Russian Defector in British Hospital
MiG Crashes in Romania
Today is the anniversary of the assasination of President John F. Kennedy, a cousin on my late mother's side, and also the first Catholic to be President of the United States. (All previous and succeeding Irish-Americans to hold the same office came from Protestant backgrounds.)
My mother, not notably psychic woke up with a funny feeling about the day and decided to keep us home from school. She told us to go ahead and make ourselves some marmelade sandwiches for breakfast and have some milk. So my sister and I made a huge stack of them and took them to our room. Then we heard a scream from her end of the house. At the time we lived in East L.A. in a large place on Madalay Drive. My sister and I had essentially our own entrance and bathroom and a sort of tiny galley, where we could keep cookies and stuff. A lot of freedom for a 9 year old and a 6 year old. We didn't even have to ask to go out on weekends and had our own key to the back door.
Anyway we ran to her room and found our mother sobbing and asked what was wrong. 'Someone has just shot the President.' She went to light a vigil candle for him and cou ldn't. She had recently shown me how to use a match, so she asked me to do it, and the glass exploded all over the room. Shortly after that there was a report unconfirmed that the President was dead, and then a definate report of his death not long after. If memory serves, an hour later.
My step-father arrived home maybe two hours later, haveing been excused to go home from work at his new job as a Social Worker. Of course this totally ruined Thanksgiving that year. We had Swanson's T.V. dinners and watched things to do with the assasination for the next week, wondering if the country would be plunged into civil war, under martial law or what. It was a far more te rrifying time than people realize now.
We've been hardened by worse and worse things since.