Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Oppressed and unschooled, they often fought for the same dead end jobs afforded by the industrial system of the 19th Century. That Henry Louis Gates Jr is related to Sgt. James Crowley of the Cambridge, Mass., police force is not all that surprising to those who know the tangled roots of our peoples.
Daniel O'Connell, the great liberator of the Irish poor, hosted Frederick Douglass in the late 1840s as Douglass travelled in Ireland. Both O'Connell and Douglass recognized the somber and horrific effects of slavery and colonialism; and both found in the other traits to admire.
The most famous of all books about the south, "Gone with the Wind", names the lost plantation Tara, the holiest of the holy places of Ireland. And Scarlett's surname O'Hara is known throughout the Emerald Isle.
When the Derry civil rights protesters marched against the injustices of Northern Ireland, it was "We shall overcome" that they sang. and Martin Luther King Jr sent his trusted lieutenant Ralph Abernathy to observe the protests of Ulster.
Whether black, brown or white, the forces of economic oppression yield remarkably equal results. The unfortunate incident between a Harvard prof and a fine police officer brings the parties together, and one can hope that the apparent differences of the two protagonists will soon illustrate the common humanity of the two.
Jim Vincent is an associate professor of English studies at Robert Morris University. He is currently traveling in Ireland.
But I bet you didn’t you know there was also another “Benjamin” during this period who also played a big part in the founding of our country. His name was Benjamin Rush, and he’s one of the “Founding Fathers” – so to speak – of modern medicine. He was so influential in the history of medicine in our country, in fact, Robert Morris University even named a building after him.
In April 2008, RMU and the School of Nursing and Health Sciences paid tribute this physician and Patriot, when it celebrated the launch of its two new degree programs at a ceremony outside the newly renovated Benjamin Rush Center. Formerly the RMU Admissions Building, the center was renovated to house the Bachelor of Science in Nuclear Medicine Technology and the Doctor of Nursing Practice programs, both launched in the fall of 2007.
Benjamin Rush was born in Byberry Township, near Philadelphia on Dec. 24, 1745. After attending the College of Philadelphia, Rush studied medicine and other disciplines for several years in Europe. When he returned to America in 1769, he began his own private practice and took a position as professor of chemistry at his alma mater. He eventually published the first-ever American chemistry textbook.
In 1776, Rush, a strong supporter of the Patriot cause, was a member of the provincial conference that chose delegates for the Continental Congress. He was also a signer of the Declaration of Independence. Then, in 1777, he was named the surgeon-general of the middle department of Gen. Washington’s Continental Army. Less than a year later, however, Rush resigned from the position due to his dissatisfaction with the administration of military hospitals. He would later serve as treasurer of the U.S. Mint from 1797 to 1813.
Rush was always a popular and well-respected educator, and from 1791 to 1813, he served as professor of medical theory and clinical practice at the University of Pennsylvania. He was also a vocal social activist and abolitionist, and supported science education for both men and women. In addition, he dedicated much of his time providing medical care to the poor.
When he died on April 19, 1813, Benjamin Rush was the most well-known and respected physician in the U.S.
Benjamin Franklin may have his face on the $100 bill, but Benjamin Rush has a building on the RMU campus named after him. So in the Battle of the Benjamins, I’d have to call it a tie.
-- Valentine Brkich
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Our mornings here unfold out in the barrio, with each of us spending time with the family that has been assigned to us. We work in teams, assessing patient’s health conditions and evaluating their living conditions. Our goal here is simple: to give these people the most help that we can in the time that we have. Their health issues are basic: conditions like arthritis, gastritis, urinary tract infections, asthma, malnutrition and dehydration. Though most of these ailments are relatively simple to treat, they cause far more damage than they should in the barrio due to a complete lack of simple education and basic care. By developing a personal connection to a single family, we are able to ascertain the most effective route to an improved quality of life for them. That is why we are here.
Yesterday morning, Ashley and I were introduced to the family we were assigned to on Friday. Our family consists of two grandparents, along with their granddaughter, a nineteen-year-old and her little toddler, a three-year old girl named Nicole. The place they call home is nothing more than a makeshift hut. The walls are made of scrap metal and wood planks; the floors are mud. The grandparents live in one room, while Nicole and her mother live on the other side of the wall in the same structure. There is an open area outside of their dwelling where they spend most of the day sitting under a filthy tarp, their only protection from the unrelenting sun. A clothesline made of barbed wire runs the length of the common area, and in the middle of the small yard sits an inflatable children’s pool. The pool water is a wretched shade of green, lying stagnant unless little Nicole stirs it up for fun. A washtub stands next to two giant metal barrels of water. The containers are rusty and the water inside remains exposed to the passing mosquito. The scent of rotting garbage hangs heavy in the air, stymied only by the pungent stench of human refuse that leaks out from the holes in the cardboard door of the outhouse. It is unbearably hot. Flies land constantly on anything and anyone in their search for a still surface to rest their weary wings. With no white picket fence in sight, it is indeed a far cry from my idea of a home. And yet, as difficult as this may be to understand, this family is quite proud of the place where they live. As I began to spend time with them yesterday and again this morning, I have discovered that they have just as much to be happy about as I do. Why else would they smile so brightly and laugh so often?
The ferry eventually reaches the dock, and it continues to bob on the waves of Lake Managua as we make our way down the plank. Having spent the past forty-five minutes on the top deck of the boat, leaning into the fierce wind, I am glad to be back on solid ground. We climb the vibrantly painted steps of the pier toward the parking lot where our driver is guarding the van. It’s late afternoon on our first full day in Managua. The murky brown waters of the lake are now disguised by the growing radiance of the sinking sun. I snap one last picture of the rolling waves behind me and climb into the van.
The driver takes us directly across the empty parade grounds of Managua. While these grounds now lie silent, they have been witness to many magnificent celebrations in recent decades. Dr. Ross directs the driver across the square and points him toward the Old Cathedral and La Casa de Los Pueblos. The Old Cathedral was the grandest church in all of Nicaragua until earthquake and revolution stripped it of its glory and left it to the winds to decay. Now it stands as a bullet-strewn skeleton of concrete and glass. The construction is still magnificent, with lofty arches and two great bell towers stretching toward the sky. A clock on the right tower remains frozen at 12:35, never to move again.
On opposing sides of the square lie the executive residences of the Nicaraguan president. There is the traditional Casa de Blanco, whose name is taken directly from America’s own White House. Upon his ascension to power, President Daniel Ortega decided to construct his own mansion, despite widespread public outcry. He called it La Casa de la Pueblos, or “House of the People.” The high gates that surround the perimeter seem to contradict that title.
The children are everywhere. From the moment we step foot in the square, kids are all around us, trying to sell us little crafts made out of fern leaves of some kind. I watch a young boy working fiercely to finish the construction of one such leaf. He fashions the leaf into an incredibly accurate replica of a grasshopper. I know the consequences of such an action, but I take out a dollar anyway in exchange for the boy’s unique work of art. He smiles and takes it from me quickly. Sure enough, three or four more children instantly appear on either side of me. “Sólo uno más?” they plead with me. Just one more?
I remember Dr. Ross’ advice. Sometimes you just have to say no. But there is one little girl who is extremely persistent in getting my attention. She never stops working with her leaves as she follows me across the square. I decide that my first grasshopper will get lonely without a friend. I ask her to make me another. She immediately goes to work crafting another grasshopper. She tells me her name is Ruthia. I pull out a dollar bill and hit ‘record’ on my camera to capture her amazingly honed talent. The competition for tourist’s spare change is fierce in this city square. Several boys stand off to the side and try to divert my attention from the industrious girl. I notice that Dr. Ross is standing behind me, watching closely. “Those boys will beat her up for the money she makes as soon as we are gone,” he tells me under his breath. I look up at him in disbelief.
“She won’t be able to hold onto this money?” I ask him.
“Not likely. And what’s worse, if she doesn’t return home with a certain amount of money, she will be beaten again by her parents.”
The tone of the unfolding scene has now shifted from merely curious to absolutely heart-wrenching. Ruthia’s hands continue to fly over the leaf, and the shape of a grasshopper emerges. She holds it out to me with pride, and smiles. I hand her the dollar, the dollar that will be taken from her as soon as I walk off the square. And she hands me grasshopper, the grasshopper that is now sitting beside me on the nightstand. To her, I was just another American tourist with a dollar. To me, she was the girl I’ll never forget.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
McCourt is best-known for his bestselling Angela's Ashes (1999), a haunting memoir that recounts McCourt’s unimaginably tragic childhood growing up in abject poverty in Limerick, Ireland. The book won the Pulitzer Prize for Autobiography in 1997 and was later made into a movie. I had met him once before at a book-signing for Teacher Man (2005) at Joseph-Beth Booksellers on Pittsburgh’s South Side. Although I only spoke to him briefly, I was pleasantly surprised by his candor and sense of humor in regards to the teaching profession, which is something he knew much about.
After serving in Germany during the Korean War, McCourt used the G.I. Bill to enroll in New York University and later received a master's degree from Brooklyn College in 1967. His teaching career began at McKee High School where he taught English, and finished 30 years later at Stuyvesant High School in New York City. In Teacher Man, he detailed his experiences in the profession, which for him was at times confusing, frustrating, and unsatisfying. But the brilliant writer and philosopher that he was, McCourt was able to find humor in nearly everything. And in the whole, his book does much more to emphasize the importance and nobility of teaching rather than belittle it.
When he spoke at RMU last year, McCourt again used his biting humor to entertain and enlighten those in attendance, as he spoke of his years in teaching and the importance of the profession. He shared several stories with us, some of which made many of us blush, and all of which drew hearty laughs and sincere smiles. He also underlined the importance of institutions like RMU that emphasized individual attention, small class sizes, and real-world application of what is learned.
I was deeply saddened to hear of Frank McCourt’s passing on July 19. For a 78-year-old, he had the heart and mind of someone decades younger. When he was here at RMU, I was delighted by his razor-sharp wit and youthful exuberance. It wasn’t what I’d expected from a man of his age who had lived through such a trying childhood. His ability to find humor even in the bleakest of situations was admirable, and I think it's something we can all learn from and benefit from in our own lives.
--Valentine J. Brkich
Monday, July 20, 2009
Frank had asked me to select a passage from one of his books to read at the event, and I selected a passage from "'Tis", his memoir about his life in America. In the passage I selected, Frank recalls how embarrassed he got in college when a professor, detecting his Irish brogue, would call on him to talk about all things Irish: beer, women, soda bread, carousing in bars. Well, here I was, bringing him to Pittsburgh to comment on all things Irish again. When I faxed him the passage, he wrote back "Perfect." And I was so proud of myself for picking the right thing, and when he got up there on stage, he got a rousing welcome from the Pittsburgh Irish.
Of all the fancy people I met, I was most impressed with Frank, that he would speak to me in very friendly, non-ostentatious manner. We talked about movies and books over dinner. He was so relaxed and very much in the present tense. I was excited because I had read all of his books.
It's worth noting that the speakers in the Pittsburgh Speakers Series are only under contract to speak at Heinz Hall for subscribers to the series. A few are gracious enough to speak on campus, for no charge, the afternoon before their Heinz Hall talk. Frank, ever the teacher, was kind of enough to do so as well. He gave a lively talk, and those of us who were there will not soon forget it.
Thank you, Frank.
-- Jay Carson
Jay Carson is the vice president of institutional advancement at Robert Morris University.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
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8858 University Blvd
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Super 8 Motel
8991 University Blvd
Coraopolis, PA 15108
We look forward to seeing everyone at Homecoming.
-- Jonathan Potts
Monday, July 6, 2009
Although it’s been a little quiet lately here on the RMU campus, one common sound throughout the summer has been the steady “beep, beep, beep” of construction vehicles. From renovations to dorms to freshly paved roads, there have been some exciting changes at RMU this year and, best of all, there’s a lot more to come.
One thing students will notice when they return to RMU this year is the increased walk-ability of the campus. It seems everywhere you look there’s a new sidewalk, paved walkway, or stairway. This is great news because, not only will these new additions make it easier to get around campus, but they will also make it safer. And as an added bonus, after spending a couple semesters climbing these new stairways to get to and from class, our students will be able to boast about their Quads of Steel.
There’s also a new walkway from
Yep, with all these walk-ability improvements, it’s obvious that Robert Morris University is taking a step in the right direction.
Sorry about that.