Search Results for: rutkowski

Thad Rutkowski/The Ore Hole

    THE ORE HOLE   By Thaddeus Rutkowski During a school day, a science teacher took my class on a field trip. We hiked to a patch of trees growing in a crater in the ground. “This was an ore hole,” he explained. “Iron ore was dug here; then it was blasted in a furnace and shaped into pellets. That’s what made this area rich.” All we could see were trees growing in a pit. In one section, people had dumped their garbage. Bottles, cans and other non-degradable items lay on the surface of the fill. As we walked through the leaf cover, a girl announced that she saw a penis. “It’s sticking up,” she said. “Where is it?” the teacher asked. The girl pointed to a whitish, erect object on the ground. Around the base of the object was a dark-brown sheath. “It’s a mushroom,” the teacher said, “It might be edible.” On closer inspection, the mushroom turned out to have an unpleasant smell. No one would touch it. We left it where it was. * In the evening, my parents started to argue about something—I couldn’t tell what. I tried to watch television with my brother and sister and not listen to my father’s voice. “You’ve turned them all against me,” my father said. “You’re all against me, you and your chink children.” I knew what...

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Thad Rutkowski/Hard Biking

HARD BIKING   by Thaddeus Rutkowski It’s raining, and I’m on foot, heading for my parked bicycle, when I see a bike go by with two umbrellas attached to it. One umbrella is over the main rider, and the other is over the back wheel, as if to protect a small passenger. Maybe there is a child in the jump seat, but I can’t see any passenger as the bike rolls away. I have no umbrella. I have only a plastic jacket with a hood. Light rain falls onto my face as I start to ride home. “This isn’t so bad,” I think as my pants get soaked. “At least the air is warm, and I don’t have far to go. I ride through deep water at the side of the street. With each pedal downstroke, one foot gets wet. Maybe I should get two umbrellas for my bike. They could protect me and my daughter, if she were still small enough to ride on the back. * Between the traffic and the curb, a taxicab door opens in front of me. I’m too close to stop. My front wheel hits the door, and I fall off my bike. I pick the bike and myself up as a woman gets out of the car’s back seat and walks away. I get back on my bike and ride, but when...

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Donors & Contributors

Fundraising, year-round style A message from the founder: We can (always) use some help. And so can they. It’s a sad fact of life that money makes the world go round. No one knows that better than a father of four who’s out of work, the mother of three taking care of the family as a single mom,  or the child who’s the one of five who didn’t die from malnutrition, malaria, cholera or some other disease specific to a region. Take Puerto Rico, for example, an American territory/protectorate that isn’t getting the protection it needs and is promised under laws of the United States, under which it is ruled — same as you and me, if you’re an American, Guamanian or U. S. Virgin Islander.  Right now the people of the islands need our help. Their needs are greater than ours, and will be for some time. We’ll continue our fundraisers, but for now, if you can, send something their way. The Red Cross, Habitat for Humanity and Save the Children are a few organizations doing yeoman’s work day in and day out around the world.  Military assistance, along with volunteers from other groups are engaged in providing the people of Puerto Rico food, water, clothing, shelter… and two of the oft-overlooked intangibles that belong in the family of Necessities — self-respect and hope. We hope you’ll give to...

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Barbara Rosenthal/Art Review

This is an understated series of stately whimsicality. It is beautiful to look at and fun to walk amidst. The pastel and royal colors, pinky coral, soft aqua, pale yellow, deep ultramarine, sometimes against black, sometimes with a subtle white-line texture, sometimes on a bit of cloth, are subtly mixed and matched, and the conceptual and visual delicacy of their combinations is supremely refreshing to the eye and mind in an age of so much harshness in painted forms.

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History…

The name Ragazine was coined in the mid-’70s in Columbus, Ohio, as the title of an alternative newspaper/magazine put together by a group of friends. It was revived in 2004 as ragazine.cc, the on-line magazine of arts, information and entertainment, a collaboration of artists, writers, poets, photographers, travelers and interested others. And that’s what it still is.