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July 22, 2010


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C.H. Rotary Club’s Rebecca Anwar an angel to orphans

It has been 12 years since Rebecca Anwar, of Mt. Airy, first began volunteering at an orphanage in Guyana, South America, but after spending about six weeks there during each of those years, it is still just about having the chance to do something for others.

“That’s why I’m here (on earth),” she said. “I look at it as an obligation of being alive. You have a choice; you can take action, or you cannot.”

As a charter member of the Rotary Club in Chestnut Hill, Anwar has spent more than a month every year for the past 12 years aiding in an orphanage in Guyana, providing both administrative and educational support. For the first six years, she spent her time at the St. John Bosco Orphanage for Boys, while the last six years have been spent at the Hope Children’s Home in Enmore, a small village on the East Coast of South America.



World Cup snooze: how to make (boring) soccer exciting

The 2010 World Cup is now history, and like all good Americans, I find history dull and boring. I tried to pay attention to the game; I really did. I thought, “Billions of soccer fans can’t be wrong.” Right?

I even wore an orange shirt (left over from my five minutes as a Flyers fan) to support my new favorite team, the Netherlands. I rooted for them over Spain because: 1. They’re not into bullfighting, and 2. They were once a colony of Spain. And of course, host country South Africa was once a colony of the Netherlands. You really would need an encyclopedia to keep track of all the colonoscopies that have occurred throughout human history.



Nude encounter gets to the heart of the matter

Kravetz (right), a professional photographer, created a calendar in the 1980s when he was living in California of nude men over 50. It was a huge sensation. (We said in last week’s issue that the gentleman on the left was unknown. We have since learned, after exhaustive research that has left us exhausted, that his name is Franklin Avery.) These two gentlemen were not born with these “Happy Faces” in front of their private parts. The Happy Faces just grew in after puberty.

Ed. Note: Mt. Airy resident Bruce Kravetz, 70, is a professional photographer, adverturer and world traveler who had journeyed by himself to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, Sudan, Kanya, Tanzania, Indonesia and countless other countries. He owned Pacific Rim, an import/export business in Manayunk, from 1992 to 2006, and he would travel around the world buying crafts to sell in his store. During one five-month stay in India, he had an intense experience with a cult run by a charismatic leader named Rajneesh. Here is the second half of that story. (The first half ran last week.):

Encounter groups were popular in the U.S. during the time I was in India. I had never had that experience, but that was soon to change. We started out just sitting around; most of us seemed a bit awkward and shy, but we loosened up as time went by. Almost forgot to tell you – since we were shedding all our bad karma, we shed all our clothes as well (getting interesting already) and we just began. I thought that if we were to get anything out of it we had to say what was on our minds. We would become clear (another catchword).

For all I knew, these shenanigans might work. (I have a few cubbyholes in my brain that could use some Drano. I won’t go into any psychobabble about myself. If you really want to know what’s inside my head, take this article to your local shrink; then let me know what he says.)

O.K., I thought, here goes. I spoke my mind and said it seemed to me there was a certain behavioral norm in an encounter group, and I proceeded to point out those who obviously had been in groups before and those who had not. So this young man spoke up and said what was on his mind and started yelling and swearing at me and banging on the wall, (he was so pissed at me). He actually broke his wrist, and the next day he came in with a cast.



After 60 years, thoughts of Lynne still bring tears

When I was in the fifth grade, I sat next to Lynne Erney, but after the second week, her desk was empty. She had rheumatic fever, we were told, and would be home in bed for a long time. For a while, her desk was a reminder of our absent classmate, but then it became just an empty desk to most of the class.

For my part, I lived near Lynne Erney, who wasn’t contagious, and so I was designated to take her books and lessons to her so that she could keep up with the class. She had a brother in the third grade, but our teacher decided I would be better able to explain the lessons. I also became the de facto reporter of the progress of her recovery.



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