Ah, the days of my youth

Mom found a bunch of old photos at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, including baby and elementary school photos of myself. I have scanned them and here they are, in order:

Me on November 5, 1985. Exactly one month old. The little boy next to me is my brother Colin, who had just turned five. As you can tell from the later pictures, Colin and I look a lot alike. This was a Polaroid snapshot; the rest are studio photos.
Me at age 3 months, in January 1986. My parents had three boys in the thirteen years between my sister and me. Judging by the ludicrous amount of frills and bits of lace on that dress, they had really welcomed the opportunity to princess-ify a baby girl.
Me later in 1986. One year old.
Me in July 1987. I was 21 months old.
Me in 1987 or 1988. This photo isn’t dated so I’m not sure.
Another of me in 1987 or 1988. Again, no date, but I think it was taken a little later than the aforementioned photo because my hair appears to be slightly longer.
Me in 1989. I’m probably three. This is my favorite picture of me from when I was little. My mom still has that dress.
Me in the first grade. Mrs. Hubbard’s class. Last year before she retired.
Me in the second grade. Mrs. Lipp’s class.
Me in the third grade. Mrs. Reinhart.
Another one of me in the third grade. You can see how long my hair is in that picture — down past my waist. By then it was a bit of a nightmare. It was so fine and tangled so easily. Shortly after that photograph was taken, I had it all cut off.
Me in the fourth grade. No, I am not actually sad or angry in the photo. It’s just that Mom and I had recently been talking about school pictures and she remarked that kids’ smiles always looked so goofy, so I decided not to smile and wound up looking clinically depressed instead. I remember the jacket; it was silk and reversible, with lavender on the other side. I actually preferred the lavender, but that day I chose the other side because the orange looked better against the background of the photo.

Uganda Martyrs Day

As written by me on Executed Today: on this day in 1886, twenty-two Christians were martyred for their faith in what is now the country of Uganda. They were burned alive. Most of them were only in their teens or early twenties.

There was one survivor, a boy who was inexplicably pulled from the flames at the last moment. I couldn’t find any reason for this, other than that he was only thirteen years old, the youngest of the group. But the chief executioner’s own son, who was fourteen, wasn’t spared. The only break he got was being clubbed over the head before he was burned.

The king who arranged this, Mwanga II, was only sixteen himself at the time; the martyrs were mostly his own pages. He was later overthrown and exiled. Ironically, Mwanga converted to Christianity himself a few years before he died.

I never know what to think about such stories. I prefer the Jewish point of view. Judaism does NOT invite martyrdom and they explicitly allow you to deny your faith and break religious law if that’s what you have to do to save your own life. I can understand and even kind of admire the strength and solidarity displayed by these boys, but at the same time…what a senseless waste of human life.

MPs named Jesus

Last week’s Make-a-List Monday featured missing people with “Mohammed” in their names. So I thought this week I’d do MPs with “Jesus” in their names.

Jesus Juarez Atilano
Jesus Manuel Balbi
Jesus Javier Blanco
Jesus Fabian Cardenas
Jose D. Jesus Chavez
Jesus De La Cruz
Nelida De Jesus Del Valle
Jose De Jesus Diaz
Jesus Dominguez
Jesus Maria De Galindez
Jesus Rios Galindo
Jesus Gonzales
Jesus Garnica Lopez
Jose Jesus Lopez
Jesus Alvarado Martinez
Jesus Merino-Mendoza
Jesus Alay Meza
Jesus Ramon Sicairos
Jesus Cardoza Valdovinos
Maria De Jesus Valdovinos
Jesus Venegas
Lourdes Jesus Villanueva
Jesus Vizcaino Maldonado
Jesus Franco Zapata