Hey Dude: Move that Bus!

Ever since the end of October 2013 the traffic in Sao Paulo has gone from something chaotic to total madness. Due to the fact that purchasing a car nowadays has been made easy for anyone and everyone, the number of cars on the streets has increased and this could be one of the major reasons for the madness.

 If carpooling were part of the culture, there wouldn’t be a problem. However, here in Sao Paulo when a car drives by, you mostly see just the driver and no passengers. The public transportation system is neither effective nor reliable. For this reason, the mayor decided to implant many bus corridors (so he named it). In order to do so, he simply transformed a car line into a bus lane on major streets in the city.

Simple right? Wrong. It is a simple Math equation. If a street had four lanes where millions of cars used and there were already traffic jams at rush hour, picture taking away one of those lanes. The number of vehicles did not drop, on the contrary; the number has increased for the car industry did not shut down in the meantime.

You might be thinking by now that I am selfish and against the system implanted in the city. Far from it. I am all for going to work by subway, if there were one that would take me there. Driving to work in the morning is not a big hassle because I leave home an hour early. However, it seems like each year I need to increase five minutes. Believe me, five minutes does make a huge difference.

It took the drivers a while to get used to the changes. If a car is caught in the bus lane there is a fine. Nonetheless, the opposite is not the same. Sometimes the buses decide that it is OK to overtake another bus and simply use one of our lanes. Whenever this happens, I feel like rolling down my window and screaming: Hey Dude! Move that bus!

I believe that the measures taken have not helped those who do depend on the public transportation system. Although the bus lanes are free of cars. The government has not increased the number of buses on each lane. Therefore, taking this kind of transportation is stressing; buses are crowded and people have to stand for hours until they reach their final destination. Not to mention the dangers they face in falling out when the bus takes off or even being pick-pocketed.

By the time the government makes enough subway lines and increases the buses on the lanes for people to leave their cars at home, I will most probably have retired. But I am hopeful for the next generation.

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Photo by : Meire Marion

( November 23, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

When in School

When in school you learn a lot of stuff;

However, you suffer because the tests are tough.

When in school life can be a drag;

Even your back hurts from carrying your bag.

When in school lunch is sometimes yummy;

And you feel happy after a full tummy.

When in school time flies;

Then it is over and you ask why.

Life is a school and we learn every moment.

Wouldn´t it be great

If we passed it with straight A´s?

(Written November 12, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

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A UFO?

                                                  ****** For Joao Santos R.I.P. ******

A small group of three friends (two boys and a girl) always had the habit of going away for the weekend in order to get away from the rush-rush world in which they lived. They used to go to many different places but their favorite was in the state Rio de Janeiro called Itatiaia. The park they used to go camping in was right in the division of Rio de Janeiro and Minas Gerais; a breathtaking place and mysterious too.

Many strange things happened on these short weekend trips. The drive to Itaiaia was around 4 hours long before you reached the dirt road. There were times when driving up that road was a breeze. At other times, though, especially when it rained, going up the dirt road was hard work. But in the end it was worth it.

They’d always stop and set up their tent near a small brook so they could have water and enjoy all that nature had to offer. When they were there it seemed as if time stood still for those wonderful days. The longest they ever stayed was a long holiday weekend, Carnival if I am not mistaken; a whole ten days because they decided to cancel whatever they had to do and stayed an extra four days.

Itatiaia is a great place for UFO sightings. Not that the media gives this a whole lot of importance, but those who are interested and follow studies and reports know so. Besides these three friends agreed that the park called Agulhas Negras ( the highest point of Itatiaia) resembled a totally different planet.

These three friends belonged to a group that studied this phenomenon and met once a week to talk about what they had discovered from other groups around the world. They also went out to the field to try to contact the extraterrestrials. Some amazing and unforgettable stories happened along those five years, which is how long they went on these adventures.

The story I am about to tell you is of a short weekend trip to Itatiaia where the three friends, out-of-the blue, decided to get there sleeping bags, pack up the car and leave São Paulo around four a.m. to make it to the mountain before lunch time to enjoy the relaxing weekend.

The weather was beautiful, warm, blue sky not a cloud in sight. They got there around ten, set up the tent and by the time they had finished it was lunch time. They ate and after cleaning up, each one went on to do whatever their hearts intended. It was a perfect day to get some R & R.

As the sun went down and the temperature started to drop, they started to make some soup to help them warm up at night. All of a sudden dense thick clouds started to enclose them. They naturally got up from where they were seated and tried to find each other for it was getting hard to see. Huddled in the middle of the field, they could not see each other; however, they knew the other was there because they were holding on to each other as if they were dancing to a slow song.

The girl looked up to the sky and said: `What´s that? `

Naturally at this point the boys were looking up too and what they saw was magnificent. There was a ring of colors spinning in the sky right above their heads. It was huge; the size of a soccer stadium. Blue, green, yellow, purple – bright shining lights going round and round.

Suddenly the lights flashed and the girl said: `Well, whatever it is, it has just taken a picture of us. `

In no time, the clouds were gone and they could see perfectly. The full moon was shining bright. It was so bright that we could see far away. The three friends did not speak that night. But at breakfast the next morning, that is all they spoke about. While they were having breakfast, two people were walking up the road. Coincidentally we knew those two people. They belonged to one of the groups that we got information from.

When they saw us we rejoiced because we were sure that we had had a close encounter of the third kind. They told us that they had seen a Mother ship over the area where we were and one of their group members had been abducted for half an hour.

The three friends felt privileged to have gone through that experience together.

Google Images : Agulhas Negras - ( I think this photo is amazing and hope it is not a  fake .)

Google Images - Agulhas Negras

Google Images ( Agulhas Negras - Doesn't it look like another planet???) 

(Written: December 4, 2013 – Based on a true story that took place in the early 90s.) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Doing TOO much at the same time

Nowadays we tend to be doing so much. Time seems short and seems like it is getting shorter and shorter as the years go by. The other day I caught myself doing several things at once. It amazed me when I realized it. Ahhhhhhhhhh! - Multitasking has taken over.

It happened to be a Saturday. I had woken up early, maybe because I was worried about all the things I had to accomplish and simply woke up early although I had set up the alarm clock pretty early for a Saturday. I had breakfast and checked my social networks like I do every morning and meanwhile I was watching an interview with a writer on TV. Three or four different activities at once: eating, reading, writing, watching and soaking in all the info; my mistake, five different activities. It makes you wonder what a powerful organ the brain is. However, I could name a couple of people who do not have this skill of doing multiple tasks at the same time.

After having done this, the TV program changed and I decided to correct some tests; once again, multiple tasks.  You’d think that taking a walk in the park afterwards would slow down the mind. Walking and observing, taking pictures, posting them and thinking of a theme to write about for my blog; still doing more than one thing at a time.

All of this just leads us to today’s number one problem: Stress.

Any tips on how to reduce this stress?

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(Written August 31, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Writer´s Block

Have you ever heard the expression writer´s block?  Writer´s Block (n.) Usually temporary condition in which a writer finds it impossible to proceed with the writing of a novel, play, or other work (according to Dictionary.com)

I have been going through this for some time now. I have several ideas which I have started writing about but somehow they are just story starters that I just can´t seem to develop. I carry around a small notebook in my huge handbag to jot them down as I see them happening, for instance, a couple fighting in a paper box on a street corner; the dialogues I hear people say when I am walking in the park , just to mention a few. I have two files on my computer. One that reads: Blog and another: Blog in progress. The first one is filled with stories I have posted since I started sharing them with my followers. Officially I have five followers who receive my stories as soon as I post them. However, ever since I started a Facebook fan page, more people have been reading what I have been posting, which I am grateful for.

I really enjoy writing for it quiets my mind at times when there is a lot going on. I write, revise and still sometimes mistakes go by unseen or a punctuation mark is misused. Nonetheless, I post my stories. Perhaps one day I will have an editor to revise what I have written and help me with these little errors.

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( written October 21, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

That Awkward Moment When the Only Thing You Know on a Test is Your Name

It is funny how much a mind can go blank while under pressure. You have been studying for such a long time and then all of a sudden, as if a hammer hit your head, you stare at the test questions in front of you and you can´t make heads or tails of it. All those letters in font size 12 are trying to say something that you cannot decipher. You look at the teacher at the front of the room sitting at her desk and as the sweat pours down your face you slowly raise your hand.

Although the teacher always says that there is no such thing as a stupid question in a classroom because everyone is there to learn, you know that the words that are about to come out of your mouth in the question format is stupid. You suspicion has become reality when the teacher answers `But of course´ and gives you the look that reads `You have the nerve to ask such a stupid question.´

You know that all your classmates are laughing inside, each one their way. Some out of hysteria because like you, they know nothing about the subject on the test; and others, out of spite because they are not alone in their misery.

`I should have studied. Why did I not pay attention in class? I shouldn´t have gone to that party on Saturday and get so wasted that Sunday I ended up sick all day.´ These are just a few thoughts that pop up in your mind to try to make you feel better. Then out of the blue, the teacher says `15 more minutes´. Panic strikes! The sweat increases. You feel as if your heart is going to explode. You look at the questions again and give it a try.

`Your time is up. Drop your pens.´ Up you go to hand in your test. The teacher takes one magnifying look and says `Didn´t study, did you? ´ You are busted. Those few lines were not enough to fool the teacher.  In the end you are pretty much convinced that teachers have this unexplainable power to know what goes on in each and every student's mind. Perhaps it is something they learn at university or a gift they are born with. With that being said, you smile, grab your books and head out the door feeling miserable.  

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(Written November 12, 2013) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Am I Asking Too Much?

I have been questioning myself lately about an aspect that has bothered me for a long time and that now I have decided to change my attitude towards it. The fact is that there are some people that walk by me ( at work, on the streets, at church, and so on) and do not even say hello or make a movement with a wink or nod to acknowledge my presence.

You might be thinking as you read that no one is obliged to greet others when they walk by. I agree, however, I come from a time when saying hello, thank you and excuse me was something that we said all the time; a sign of politeness. Of course we learned how to use them and whenever we didn´t, someone would remind us they existed, mainly parents and teachers. It is a habit that I still practice these days.

I greet strangers in the elevators and even if they cross my path on the street, I tend to say hello. It makes people feel good, I reckon, at least it breaks the tension. To me, all people are the same and deserve the same treatment; more on the lines of “do onto others as you would like them to do to you”.

However, there have been times when these people, who pass by and do not even acknowledge the fact that another human is going by, have come up to me at some time, usually towards the end of the year, to ask me for my help in correcting something that has to do with the language I teach. Then they find a smile, which was inside hiding all this time, and nicely ask for my help.  In the past I have helped them out but nowadays I am having second thoughts. I have done it because I wanted to and not because it is part of my task as a teacher to do so, which it is not. I have done it for free and there were times when not even a simple thank you was given in return as payment.

 It is a very touchy issue nowadays because these people are not used to taking no as an answer. Anyhow, my big dilemma is that when I say no, which I eventually will end up doing due to lack of time and an overhaul of work, why can´t I simply tell them the real reasons behind my no?  What I would like to say to them is “Hey! Wake up and smell the coffee! What goes round comes round! You haven´t greeted me all year long, even turned your head at times, and now because YOU need me YOU expect me to help YOU because of a simple smile. Get real!” But that can´t be said, now can it?

I am also thinking like who am I to try to make these people aware of the fact that they will have a tough life if they do not change their ways? Who do they think they are to treat another human being this way? What makes them think that they are superior or better than the next person? In life one has to give to receive. Giving does not mean material things but a simple greeting is sometimes all a person needs.

We need others in our lives; we were not created to be alone, to live in isolation. People need one another and the sooner you learn this, the easier life can be.

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(Written August 14, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Weekends

Everyone goes through the week counting down the days towards the weekend; looking forward to some time to get away and relax; get away from the hustle and the bustle of the activities that need to be fulfilled at work, at school and even at home. However, some weekends are filled with so many events, that you need a weekend to relax from the weekend. Then again there are some weekends that are just so boring because there is nowhere to go or no one to go out with.

Personally, I enjoy my weekends because it gives me an opportunity to meet up with family and friends whom I seldom see or talk to during the week. It also gives me a break from every day duties. On weekends I go out for lunch, go to the movies, talk walks, travel, read, write, go to plays, go to church and also it would be cruel to leave out the mall or the supermarket. (Nonetheless, I do enjoy going to the supermarket much more than the mall).

Although the weekend activities might seem the same, there are always different people along with me on these outings, which make them unique.

It has taken me quite a while to learn that, as a teacher, I should try to do all my corrections and lesson planning during the week and leave the weekends free to recharge my energy. Nonetheless, there are periods in which, some work needs to be done. Then it is stress galore.

(Written: October 21, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Being a Teacher

Being a teacher for over thirty years has taught me a lot. I have learned that I probably learn much more than I teach. My students keep me up to date on what is going on in their world, like in arts, sports, music and fashion. They also bring along their language. Not to mention gestures and other forms of acting and reacting in certain situations. More and more I learn about myself and reflect on the changes I need to make in order to become a better person. Mind you , when I walk into a classroom at the beginning of a new school year, I still get those butterflies as I did the very first time I stepped up in front of a class.

Being a teacher to me is a way to transmit to others what I know, in this case, the English Language and Literature. Nonetheless, there is no way in leaving out values and examples. Respect is one of my main words.  I respect my students and fellow co-workers and am respected by them. Perhaps not all students like my classes, but I know that I do my very best to make them feel at ease in using the foreign language.

        Today, October 15, is the date in which is named Teacher´s Day here in Brazil. Thanks to technology, I ´ve received many messages from former students, present students, family members and friends wishing me a great day and thanking me for how I´ve changed their lives.

        Gratitude is the feeling that fills my heart. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn each and every day. And I AM the one who thanks YOU for allowing me to be part of your lives.

Here is a poem written by Taylor Mali, which pretty much summarizes how I feel about a job I am so very proud of and couldn´t imagine doing anything else.

What Teachers Make
by Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.

I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?

And I wish he hadn’t done that— asked me to be honest—
because, you see, I have this policy about honesty and ass-­‐kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A-­‐ feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the grade, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?
It’s no big deal.”
And that was noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you’ve got this,
then you follow this,
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this.

Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?

Mali. Taylor. “What Teachers Make.” What Learning Leaves. Newtown, CT: Hanover Press, 2002. Print. (ISBN: 1-­‐887012-­‐17-­‐6)

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( Written October 15, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Waiting for a Bus

She was waiting for a bus at the rather crowded bus stop. It was drizzling and she kept dry under the shelter provided by the bakery. She looked anxiously to see whether the bus was coming up the road. Nothing. She sighed. Out of nowhere an older man dressed in rags came up to her.

“Do you have any change to spare? I haven’t eaten all day and would like to buy some bread.” He begged.

“I am afraid I do not.”

“That is a mighty large purse hanging from your shoulder. Are you sure they are no coins lying around at the bottom.” He insisted.

Aware that if she didn’t give him at least a coin, he wouldn’t stop bothering her. So, she opened her bag and took out a two Real bill.

“Here you are. It is more than enough for bread and you can even ask for some coffee.”

“Thank you so much. I am truly grateful. God bless you.”

He was supposed to walk away, but he just stood there staring at her. She looked away and started praying for her bus to arrive.

“You know. I have been here all day. Not one single person helped me. But I knew you would.”

She just ignored him.

“Can I give you a kiss?”

She was starting to get scared. She consented by nodding her head slowly. But her gut hurt her.

Not only did he give her a kiss on her left cheek, he also tried to hug her. Suddenly she realized what he was trying to do and broke away from his grip. He smiled and walked away. Only then did she notice that she hadn’t closed her purse and he was heading for her wallet. No one. Not one single person at the bus stop helped her.

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(Written October 4, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

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Once Upon a Time…( A Prince That Turned into a Frog )

She had just moved to the neighborhood and was invited to one of the church events. As she reached one of the food stands, there he stood in what looked like an army uniform; dreamy. He looked at her and smiled; she shied away. Nonetheless, they spoke and it was the start of a friendship. She was sixteen and he was just four years older.

Throughout the years their friendship grew, they had so many similar interests and could talk for hours. Most of all, they laughed a lot together.  Although they lived near each other, they did not see much of each other but when they did it was quality time. He would always throw in a flirty line and she would make believe she didn’t catch it.

A year went by and he got married, she didn’t go to the wedding. It was a small wedding and only family could go being that the families of the bride and groom were huge. That was ok, she still wished him happiness for they were friends.

Another year went by and she was the one who got married. A week before her wedding, she ran into him. He walked her home and asked her to marry him. She just laughed and said that that wasn’t possible because he was already married and was going to be a father. He insisted and said he’d leave his wife if she just wouldn’t get married. She was firm and seriously said no. Did she hurt his feelings? Perhaps.

Several years went by, thirty to be exact, one day on the internet while on a social network, he found her. They exchanged phone numbers and caught up to the present; both were single again. They decided to meet and go to the movies.

Sparks flew as soon as they meet. Both were very nervous for thirty years had gone by and both had changed in many ways; especially physically. Nonetheless, there was fire and a relationship started; a romantic relationship not just friendship.

Everything was going well for around a month until one sunny Sunday afternoon while she was at a family gathering, she felt ill. She called him up in the middle of the night after she had come back from the event and he drove her to the ER and had to leave her there. At the hospital, she was admitted into the ICU for she had stopped walking.

Time went by and due to her illness they saw little of each other but spoke every day. A year and a half later she opens her social network and sees that he has updated his relationship status. Her heart stops. He was seeing someone else. He did not have the courage to tell her himself. She had to read it.

Loving someone doesn’t mean that you own them. However, being frank is a good thing in relationships. She doesn’t blame him though; not everyone can handle a relationship with a person who has a mysterious illness.

Living and learning.

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( Written September 13, 2013)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Mature?

Lately people have been saying that our youth is not maturing as fast as they did in the past. I myself have been caught saying it. They always have someone to pick up after them, pay their expenses, and make up their minds for them when it comes to what they should do about their lives as long as they are under the some one’s roof. I believe that maturity comes along with responsibility. Not just by paying bills or taking care of one´s things, but also by being responsible for the consequences of each decision that one makes. If parents do not allow their children make their own decisions, how are the youth of today going to mature?

When my sisters and I were growing up, (now that makes me sound old) we were assigned weekly chores like doing laundry, cleaning our rooms, cleaning up the bathroom which included washing the toilet and the bathtub. Chores that the kids nowadays have someone else do for them, at least here in my country. Perhaps you are thinking that I am referring to the elite of the country, but not only. (I am also not saying that 100% are like this.) Parents seem to want to give their children a better life, so they believe that making it easier for them is the best. Mind you, that besides the weekly chores we also had to go to school and get good grades. It sure sounds like a heavy load and compared to today’s situation, it was.

Nowadays the children do not need to do chores in the house, they just have to study. Even so, some of them think that doing homework and studying so much is a heavy load, which reminds me of a joke I saw the other day that talked about the origin of words. The joke started off by saying smog is a combination of the words smoke and fog; blush is a combination of the words blood and rush therefore studying is a combination of the words student dying. Guess that is how the youth feels about the only task they have: study.

On the other hand, life is so different nowadays; perhaps we just have to realize how special our youth is. Perhaps they are light years ahead of us. It takes them less time to learn or appreciate what life has to offer. Nonetheless, maturity is still at question here. How can today´s hi-tech easy-going youngsters be taught responsibility in order for them to become mature?

In this case, I would say that they have to make their own decisions and deal with the consequences of their actions. For instance, if they do not want to study, they have to deal with the fact that they might not do well on the test and flunk the course, leading to another year in the same level. They will have to redo it while their friends move on. This was something that I was taught. You can do whatever you want to, as long as you are willing to handle the consequences, I believe that this way of thinking has made me become mature and face the surprises that life throws at you.

What do you think?

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(Written August 27, 2013) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

The Beggar in the Park

There is a man who sits every day on a bench in the park. He wears torn clothes, is wrapped in an old blanket when it is cold and listens to a battery operated radio at times. He is shaved and groomed although his clothes are torn and he wears flip flops. He doesn’t smell, so he does bathe.

Every time someone walks past him he says “Have any change? Do you have any money? I haven’t eaten in a while.” There are some senior citizens who give him a buck or two. He happily thanks them and wishes them blessings. But when they don’t, he adds “You don’t have any money today. Maybe another day?”

I have been walking in the park for over 20 years now. Every time I walk in the morning I see him there. Once I was at a supermarket in the neighborhood and I ran into him. However, he was very well dressed and he was getting out of the driver’s seat of a car. The scene didn’t make much sense to me then. I even thought it was someone who looked very much like him. Nonetheless, when he greeted someone who was walking by, I recognized his voice.

He has also had his fifteen minutes of fame when there was a disaster in the park and the lake dried out. I was watching the news on TV and who did I see? The beggar! He was in tears telling the reporter how much he loved that park.

Some people say he is nuts. If he is, I really cannot affirm. I believe that his job is sitting on the bench on the park from Sunday to Sunday from 8 to noon.

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( Written September 2, 2013)
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I Walk by Faith Not by Sight

"We Walk By Faith, Not By Sight” 2 Corinthians 5:7

This is such a true statement when it comes to my life. I walk by faith not by sight. To me this means so much more than simple words can explain. Nonetheless, I will do my best to try to get my message across.

Two years ago I was attacked by a bacteria ( which doctors have no idea whatsoever what it could  have been ) which made my bone marrow swell cutting off the connection of my brain with the rest of my body from the breast down. It took me one week to walk again, with the help of a walker; contradicting medical reports that stated that I was not to walk again for at least a year and a half. Of course they were basing their results only on facts from scientific research. I walk by faith. I walk because God wants me to and allows me to.

Mind you, I still do not feel from my breast down, my legs hurt from inside out. In the winter time or when temperatures drop, my legs feel like they are on fire. If you touch them, they feel cold and I cannot tell whether or not you are touching them, especially my left leg. Science cannot explain this either. According to the results of my MRIs I should be able to feel properly, but I don’t. I walk by faith. I walk because it is God’s will.

If you look at me, you cannot imagine that all of this is going on. I walk. I might lose my balance from time to time. But I place one foot in front of the other and take the steps that I need to take to get me to places. I walk by faith. I walk because God loves me.

My doctors have told me that I am lucky that I am not blind for if I were, walking would be impossible according to their written material. They state that I walk because I can see where I am stepping. I walk by faith. I walk because God is merciful. I walk because I am blessed not lucky.

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(Written July 28, 2013)copyright ©2013 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Mysterious Events That Have Appeared in the News Recently

Two stories have been in the headlines for some time these days here in Brazil.

 One is a sad story about a thirteen – year - old boy who is being accused of murdering his whole family – mom, dad, grandma and great aunt. His parents were police officers which made the choice of the murder a bit easier- shooting. In my heart I would like to believe that he didn´t do it. But according to the police and their investigation, everything leads to him. Unfortunately we will never know the truth, because the boy took his life as well.

The press is making him look like a super hero, for he was a fantastic shooter and we could even say a professional one, based on what we read in the papers. The neighbors and family members are making him look like a kind, sweet and gentle young teenager. The school is making him look like an example student who used to be quiet and quite studious. His friends are divided into two categories; the ones who really liked him and say he was calm and cool and the others who were perhaps a bit envious of him and say that he used to draw pictures of war and loved playing those video games that most, if not all, teenage boys like to play at that age. One of his friends, who stated that he was his best friend, told the press that the boy´s wish was to be a hit man when he grew up. His family, aunts and uncles, refuse to believe that he did all of that and are stating that they were killed because of internal police reasons. They were simply eliminated, wiped out, deleted.

According to what I have read and heard, I cannot come to a consensus as to what really happened. It is possible that the boy really was a psychopath and snapped that day, or he was pressured to do it.  Usually when someone is going to end his life, there is a suicide note along with the incident. The greatest question here is will we ever know? And can we trust the answer we get? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

The other story, also sad, is about a brick layer in Rio that was last seen being put into a police car and taken to the station. Because of cameras all over the community, they have his getting into the car on tape; however, the big mystery is that no one knows where he is. People are starting to protest with signs and banners asking “Where is Amarildo?” (That is his name). Police say they do not know. The press is on top of the story interviewing Amarildo´s friends, family and co-workers. It must be very sad when someone in your family just disappears. At least when the corpse is found, you are sad, but at least you can rest in peace knowing that the person has stopped suffering. He could be being tortured for all we know.

 Poor Amarildo, if he came from an upper class family then perhaps the authorities would have found him by now.  To be point blank, the police wouldn´t have taken him in the first place.

This wouldn´t be the first time a person has disappeared. There are many stories of people just vanishing into thin air. Could they have been abducted? Well, we will have to wait and see what is going to give with this story too…

What do you think?

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(Written August 12, 2013) 
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