[95650] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
I started drinking apple-cider vinegar and I now have a flat stomach
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Albert Cilley)
Sun Feb 19 20:41:01 2017
Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2017 17:46:41 -0500
From: "Albert Cilley" <albert.cilley@skindryfixed.com>
To: <mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu>
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H E A L T H
College Freshmen Does The Unthinkable=20
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She entered college rather overweight-from eating junk food, soda, and not =
working out and everyone figured that trend would continue until she showed=
up back home looking incredible. =20
She admits she drank this daily > > .=20
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The University is shocked by her results since she kept eating dorm food an=
d not being physically active. =C3=82=C2=A0=20
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She also worked with the school choir; under her direction, several of Motons vocal quartets had come away victorious in statewide music competitions. In 1935, a Norfolk Journal and Guide article covering the annual event dubbed her the festivals most enthusiastic and hardest working director. In 1943, she and the schools music teacher, Altona Johns, put students through their paces in preparation for the years Christmas cantata, The Light Still Shines. The feverish summer gave way to fall foliage and brisk mornings, but routines had changed to accommodate the war. The schools 4H club made care packages for departing servicemen and hosted a community discussion entitled What Can We Do to the War? The Moton school office put war stamps on sale, each purchase a small offset against the gargantuan cost of the military production. The community held goingaway parties and prepared feasts for the young men heading off to the front. Dorothy updated her classes with a unit called Wartime Mathematics, teaching students to apply arithmetic operations to household budgeting and wartime ration books and updating classic word problems with airplanes instead of cars. Sometimes, it seemed as if Dorothy had never been without Farmville or Farmville without her. The town had embraced her with the warmth accorded a native daughter; she had called it home longer than any other place shed lived in in her thirtytwo years. Her life, however,=20
was a model of Americas great love affair with mobility, in every sense. In moments of deepest reflection, as she waited for a response to her application for the job in Hampton, Dorothy might have detected the quickening of something beyond the pragmatic hope for economic advancement, the reigniting of restless embers long quiet in the twelve years since she had come to Farmville. Paper resolve was one thing, the messiness of real life another. She was no longer a single student with an itinerant soul but a wife and mother of four children. The job at Langley was a fulltime position and required a sixday workweek at an office too far away to come home on weekends, as she had done during the summer at Camp Pickett. And yet, when the halfforgotten, hopedfor letter finally arrived, she had already made up her mind. Once Dorothy made up her mind, no onenot her husband, not her inlaws, not the principal at Motonwould be able to dissuade her from her goal. You are hereby appointed Mathematician, Grade P1, with pay at the rate of 2,000 per annum, for such period of time as your service may be required, but not to extend beyond the duration of the present war and for six months thereafter. The pay was more than twice the 850 annual salary she earned teaching at Moton. Dorothys farewell was as straightforward and unadorned as the letter that had arrived from the NACA that fall. No party or fanfare marked her departure, just a single line in the Farmville section of the Norfolk Journal and Guide: Mrs. D. J. Vaughan, instructor in mathematics at the high school for several years, has accepted a=20
But the job at the aeronautical laboratory was something new, something so unusual it hadnt yet entered the collective dreams. Not even the longstalled plan to equalize Negro teachers salaries with those of their white counterparts could beat this opportunity. Even if the war ended in six months or a year, a much higher salary even for that brief time would bring Dorothy that much closer to assuring her childrens future. So that spring, Dorothy Vaughan carefully filled out and mailed two job applications: one to work at Camp Pickett, where the need for labor was so great, so undifferentiated, that there was virtually no possibility that they would not hire her. The other, much longer application reviewed her qualifications in detail. Work history. Personal references. Schools attended: high school and college. Courses taken, grades received. Languages spoken (French, which she had studied at Wilberforce). Foreign travels (None). Would you be willing to accept a position abroad? (No). Would you be willing to accept a position in Washington, DC? (Yes). How soon could you be ready to start work? She knew the answer before her fingers carved it into the blank: 48 hours, she wrote. I can be ready to go within fortyeight hours. CHAPTER THREE Past Is Prologue The 1943 school year at Farmvilles Robert Russa Moton High School started the same way other years always had: same space, more students. The new high school, built in 1939 to accommodate 180 students, had been obsolete almost from its beginning. In the schools first year of operation,=20
family, Katherine had also worked as a math teacher. Like Dorothy, Katherines intellectual gifts particularly her talent for math had skipped her ahead in school. She graduated from high school at fourteen and enrolled at West ia State Institute, a black college located just outside of Charleston, the state capital. By her junior year, Katherine had tackled every math course in the schools catalog and had been taken under the g of a gifted young math professor named William Waldron Schieffelin Claytor, who created advanced math classes just for her. Claytor, who earned a PhD in math from the University of Pennsylvania in 1933, was only the third Negro in the country to obtain the credential. He had graduated from Howard University in 1929 and took a seat in the schools inaugural oneyear masters degree program in mathematicsthe same offer Dorothy had been unable to accept. Whether or not Dorothy and Katherine ever realized that the brilliant Claytor was one of their shared connectionsDorothy almost never discussed her Howard admittanceKatherines path follog her graduation from the college, with a summa cum laude degree in math and French, must have felt to Dorothy like an alternate version of her own story.=20
position at Langley Field, VA. Never one for the long goodbye, she lingered over her children in the house on South Main only until the bell rang at the front door. Ill be back for Christmas, Dorothy said, with a final round of embraces. For twelve school years, every morning, she had turned left out the front door to get to work. Now the taxi turned right, spiriting her off in the opposite direction. The Colored waiting room at the Greyhound bus station served as the checkpoint for an inbetween world. Dorothy boarded the bus, and with each passing mile, life in Farmville faded into the distance. The job at Langley, an abstraction for half a year, moved into focus. Dorothys previous travelsMissouri to West ia, Ohio to Illinois, North Carolina to iadwarfed the mere 137 miles that separated Farmville from Newport News, where she had managed to secure temporary housing using a list of rooms for rent for colored tenants. Surely she had never traveled a greater emotional distance. In the transitional space of the bus, she turned over the questions that had loitered in her mind since sending off her application six months prior. What would it be like to work with white people? Would she sit side by side with young women like the ones at the State Teachers College? Would she miss the rolling blue hills of ias Piedmont, or fall in love with the great expanse of the Chesapeake Bay and the many rivers, inlets, and wetlands that embroidered the ia coast?=20
How would she endure the time and distance that separated her from her children, the warmth of their embraces still fresh on her skin as the bus gained the road south? Surrounded by grandparents and dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins, in a community where neighbors counted as family, pitching in when relatives couldnt, Dorothys childrens lives would change very little. Accustomed to their mothers long workdays and their fathers extended absences, they missed Dorothy, but her departure didnt interrupt their highspirited lives replete with family, friends, and school. It would, however, complicate her marriage with Howard, in which time spent apart was already measured in weeks or months rather than days. Dorothy was twentytwo years old in 1932 when they married, and ready to assume the mantle of traditional family life. Dorothy, who grew up without grandparents, basked in the stability and warmth of the extended Vaughan family, but loving inlaws could provide only so much salve for a missing husbands companionship. The geographic separation between wife and husband was a proxy for the emotional distance that opened between them as the years progressed, exposing an unevenness that was perhaps present from the beginning of their relationship. When home from the hotel circuit, Howards longings were for the simplicities of smalltown life: spending time with family and friends and working in the familys poolroom. Dorothy, on the other hand, filled every spare hour of her week with activity, from NAACP meetings to piano rehearsals at the church. Howard was satisfied with his high school diploma, but years after she chose teaching over a masters degree from Howard University, Dorothy had decided=20
to travel to the ia State College for Negroes near Richmond, ia, once a week for a semester to take an evening extension course in education. Dorothy, who knew the call of the open road so well, could certainly understand some of the appeal of Howards unusual and itinerant career, and she supported it as best she could. In 1942, the entire family accompanied him to White Sulphur Springs, West ia, renting a house in town that was close enough for Howard to walk to his job as a bellman at the Greenbrier. Warned by their parents not to even think about setting foot on the hotel grounds, the Vaughan children got as close as they could to the enormous whitecolumned resort from the periphery, peering through the shrubberycovered iron fence from the outside so that they might steal a glance at the German and Japanese detainees interned at a makeshift prisonerofwar camp on the premises. Their rented house was across the street from the home of an older Negro couple, Joshua and Joylette Coleman. Joshua and Howard shared bellman duties at the front desk of the Greenbrier. While the men worked, Dorothy and the children passed the day with Joylette, a retired schoolteacher. The Vaughan children came to love the Colemans; it was like having another set of grandparents. Dorothy, who had spent seven years of her youth in West ia, told stories of living in the state and listened to the Colemans proud tales of their childrens exploits, particularly those of their youngest daughter, Katherine. Charles, Margaret, Horace, and Katherine Coleman had grown up right there in town. Twentyfouryearold Katherine lived in Marion, ia, a speck of a town in the states rural southwest. Until settling down and starting a=20
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<p>She entered college rather overweight-from eating junk food, soda, and =
not working out and everyone figured that trend would continue until she sh=
owed up back home looking incredible. <a href=3D"http://www.skindryfixed.com/originates-multiuser/64886Tg51Y8O_f2HguV_VKxw_gVsFMtKlihzguVzONW4ef" target=3D"exte=
rnal" style=3D"color: #1769CC">She admits she drank this daily > > </=
a>.</p> <p><img style=3D";=20
" width=3D"100%" src=3D"http://www.skindryfixed.com/4c1G*7a5N1bt_f2WguV_VKxw_gVsFMtKlihzguVzONW16b/originates-multiuser" alt=3D"your body will rock" /></p> <p>=
The University is shocked by her results since she kept eating dorm food an=
d not being physically active. <br /> <br /> Amanda tells <a h=
ref=3D"http://www.skindryfixed.com/originates-multiuser/64886Tg51Y8O_f2HguV_VKxw_gVsFMtKlihzguVzONW4ef">her story</a> <br /> <br /> <a href=3D"http://www.skindryfixed.com/originates-multiuser/64886Tg51Y8O_f2HguV_VKxw_gVsFMtKlihzguVzONW4ef" style=
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<em style=3D"font-size: xx-small"> She also worked with the school choir; under her direction, several of Motons vocal quartets had come away victorious in statewide music competitions. In 1935, a Norfolk Journal and Guide article covering the annual event dubbed her the festivals most enthusiastic and hardest working director. In 1943, she and the schools music teacher, Altona Johns, put students through their paces in preparation for the years Christmas cantata, The Light Still Shines. The feverish summer gave way to fall foliage and brisk mornings, but routines had changed to accommodate the war. The schools 4H club made care packages for departing servicemen and hosted a community discussion entitled What Can We Do to the War? The Moton school office put war stamps on sale, each purchase a small offset against the gargantuan cost of the military production. The community held goingaway parties and prepared feasts for the young men heading off to the front. Dorothy updated her classes with a unit called Wartime Mathematics, teaching students to apply arithmetic operations to household budgeting and wartime ration books and updating classic word problems with airplanes instead of cars. Sometimes, it seemed as if Dorothy had never been without Farmville or Farmville without her. The town had embraced her with the warmth accorded a native daughter; she had called it home longer than any other place shed lived in in her thirtytwo years. Her life, however, <=
br /> <br /> was a model of Americas great love affair with mobility, in every sense. In moments of deepest reflection, as she waited for a response to her application for the job in Hampton, Dorothy might have detected the quickening of something beyond the pragmatic hope for economic advancement, the reigniting of restless embers long quiet in the twelve years since she had come to Farmville. Paper resolve was one thing, the messiness of real life another. She was no longer a single student with an itinerant soul but a wife and mother of four children. The job at Langley was a fulltime position and required a sixday workweek at an office too far away to come home on weekends, as she had done during the summer at Camp Pickett. And yet, when the halfforgotten, hopedfor letter finally arrived, she had already made up her mind. Once Dorothy made up her mind, no onenot her husband, not her inlaws, not the principal at Motonwould be able to dissuade her from her goal. You are hereby appointed Mathematician, Grade P1, with pay at the rate of 2,000 per annum, for such period of time as your service may be required, but not to extend beyond the duration of the present war and for six months thereafter. The pay was more than twice the 850 annual salary she earned teaching at Moton. Dorothys farewell was as straightforward and unadorned as the letter that had arrived from the NACA that fall. No party or fanfare marked her departure, just a single line in the Farmville section of the Norfolk Journal and Guide: Mrs. D. J. Vaughan, instructor in mathematics at the high school for several years, has accepted a <br /> <br /> =
But the job at the aeronautical laboratory was something new, something so unusual it hadnt yet entered the collective dreams. Not even the longstalled plan to equalize Negro teachers salaries with those of their white counterparts could beat this opportunity. Even if the war ended in six months or a year, a much higher salary even for that brief time would bring Dorothy that much closer to assuring her childrens future. So that spring, Dorothy Vaughan carefully filled out and mailed two job applications: one to work at Camp Pickett, where the need for labor was so great, so undifferentiated, that there was virtually no possibility that they would not hire her. The other, much longer application reviewed her qualifications in detail. Work history. Personal references. Schools attended: high school and college. Courses taken, grades received. Languages spoken (French, which she had studied at Wilberforce). Foreign travels (None). Would you be willing to accept a position abroad? (No). Would you be willing to accept a position in Washington, DC? (Yes). How soon could you be ready to start work? She knew the answer before her fingers carved it into the blank: 48 hours, she wrote. I can be ready to go within fortyeight hours. CHAPTER THREE Past Is Prologue The 1943 school year at Farmvilles Robert Russa Moton High School started the same way other years always had: same space, more students. The new high school, built in 1939 to accommodate 180 students, had been obsolete almost from its beginning. In the schools first year of operation, <br /> <br /> =
family, Katherine had also worked as a math teacher. Like Dorothy, Katherines intellectual gifts particularly her talent for math had skipped her ahead in school. She graduated from high school at fourteen and enrolled at West ia State Institute, a black college located just outside of Charleston, the state capital. By her junior year, Katherine had tackled every math course in the schools catalog and had been taken under the g of a gifted young math professor named William Waldron Schieffelin Claytor, who created advanced math classes just for her. Claytor, who earned a PhD in math from the University of Pennsylvania in 1933, was only the third Negro in the country to obtain the credential. He had graduated from Howard University in 1929 and took a seat in the schools inaugural oneyear masters degree program in mathematicsthe same offer Dorothy had been unable to accept. Whether or not Dorothy and Katherine ever realized that the brilliant Claytor was one of their shared connectionsDorothy almost never discussed her Howard admittanceKatherines path follog her graduation from the college, with a summa cum laude degree in math and French, must have felt to Dorothy like an alternate version of her own story. <br /> <br /> position at Langley Field, VA. Never one for the long goodbye, she lingered over her children in the house on South Main only until the bell rang at the front door. Ill be back for Christmas, Dorothy said, with a final round of embraces. For twelve school years, every morning, she had turned left out the front door to get to work. Now the taxi turned right, spiriting her off in the opposite direction. The Colored waiting room at the Greyhound bus station served as the checkpoint for an inbetween world. Dorothy boarded the bus, and with each passing mile, life in Farmville faded into the distance. The job at Langley, an abstraction for half a year, moved into focus. Dorothys previous travelsMissouri to West ia, Ohio to Illinois, North Carolina to iadwarfed the mere 137 miles that separated Farmville from Newport News, where she had managed to secure temporary housing using a list of rooms for rent for colored tenants. Surely she had never traveled a greater emotional distance. In the transitional space of the bus, she turned over the questions that had loitered in her mind since sending off her application six months prior. What would it be like to work with white people? Would she sit side by side with young women like the ones at the State Teachers College? Would she miss the rolling blue hills of ias Piedmont, or fall in love with the great expanse of the Chesapeake Bay and the many rivers, inlets, and wetlands that embroidered the ia coast? <br /> <br /> =
How would she endure the time and distance that separated her from her children, the warmth of their embraces still fresh on her skin as the bus gained the road south? Surrounded by grandparents and dozens of aunts and uncles and cousins, in a community where neighbors counted as family, pitching in when relatives couldnt, Dorothys childrens lives would change very little. Accustomed to their mothers long workdays and their fathers extended absences, they missed Dorothy, but her departure didnt interrupt their highspirited lives replete with family, friends, and school. It would, however, complicate her marriage with Howard, in which time spent apart was already measured in weeks or months rather than days. Dorothy was twentytwo years old in 1932 when they married, and ready to assume the mantle of traditional family life. Dorothy, who grew up without grandparents, basked in the stability and warmth of the extended Vaughan family, but loving inlaws could provide only so much salve for a missing husbands companionship. The geographic separation between wife and husband was a proxy for the emotional distance that opened between them as the years progressed, exposing an unevenness that was perhaps present from the beginning of their relationship. When home from the hotel circuit, Howards longings were for the simplicities of smalltown life: spending time with family and friends and working in the familys poolroom. Dorothy, on the other hand, filled every spare hour of her week with activity, from NAACP meetings to piano rehearsals at the church. Howard was satisfied with his high school diploma, but years after she chose teaching over a masters degree from Howard University, Dorothy had decided <br /> <br /> to travel to the ia State College for Negroes near Richmond, ia, once a week for a semester to take an evening extension course in education. Dorothy, who knew the call of the open road so well, could certainly understand some of the appeal of Howards unusual and itinerant career, and she supported it as best she could. In 1942, the entire family accompanied him to White Sulphur Springs, West ia, renting a house in town that was close enough for Howard to walk to his job as a bellman at the Greenbrier. Warned by their parents not to even think about setting foot on the hotel grounds, the Vaughan children got as close as they could to the enormous whitecolumned resort from the periphery, peering through the shrubberycovered iron fence from the outside so that they might steal a glance at the German and Japanese detainees interned at a makeshift prisonerofwar camp on the premises. Their rented house was across the street from the home of an older Negro couple, Joshua and Joylette Coleman. Joshua and Howard shared bellman duties at the front desk of the Greenbrier. While the men worked, Dorothy and the children passed the day with Joylette, a retired schoolteacher. The Vaughan children came to love the Colemans; it was like having another set of grandparents. Dorothy, who had spent seven years of her youth in West ia, told stories of living in the state and listened to the Colemans proud tales of their childrens exploits, particularly those of their youngest daughter, Katherine. Charles, Margaret, Horace, and Katherine Coleman had grown up right there in town. Twentyfouryearold Katherine lived in Marion, ia, a speck of a town in the states rural southwest. Until settling down and starting a</e=
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