HEADLINE: Thanksgiving Cooking Tips – How to Ensure A Safe and Fun Holiday With Thanksgiving days away‚ there are three things that are absolutely certain: time with family‚ football and food‚ most importantly. According to the United States Department of Agriculture‚ over 51 million turkeys will be consumed on Thanksgiving Day this year. Some may choose the traditional oven-roasted turkey‚ while others will choose to deep fry it. Risk Management and Department of Public Safety would like to remind
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school and found my mom in her room lying propped up on pillows at the head of her bed‚ with a book in her hands reading. Suddenly‚ she burst into a hearty laugh that made her put down her book momentarily as she regained her composure. I asked her what was she reading that had her laughing so hard. She told me it was a book by an author named Sister Soulja called “The Coldest Winter Ever.” With a scrunched up face and through squinted eyes I asked “you’re reading about winter?” With a soft chuckle
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From the Poetry Out Loud website I chose‚ “After The Winter”‚ by Claude Mckay. The poem “After The Winter”‚ really spoke to me because I absolutely love the way he described the season of Winter. The poem is just so exquisite! Mckay is a very deep writer who seems to release his feelings into his work. He incorporates a very strong sense of nature also in his work. Which to me is a very powerful piece of literature. The meaning of the poem to me is alluring. I believe that Claude Mckay is trying
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"Love"‚ is often an unrequited emotion experienced by many parental figures. This is displayed in the poem‚ "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden where the speaker is recalling of a time during his childhood where he contemplates the sacrifices his father made for him. The line‚ "Sundays too my father got up early (Line 1)"‚ entails that his or her father awoke every morning and with "cracked hands that ached from labour (Line 3)"‚ undergone his daily routine as the speaker remained oblivious to
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I never did like driving in the winter. I was almost always running late‚ time just tended to escape me. In the winter‚ everything required a sluggish attentiveness that I didn’t have the tolerance for. Driving had always been a tranquil and lulling thing for me‚ up until I hit solid black ice. I never expected to spin out of control like that and I was so sure that the only way this could end was with my car upside down in the middle of the road. My knuckles were white from gripping the bitter
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The poem “Those Winter Sundays” was written by Robert Hayden. The poem ’s theme is centralized around the love and commitment of Hayden’s father. The poem expresses how Hayden seen his father as a strict‚ responsible‚ and sometimes angered man. Although his father was strict in his ways‚ he did show his love in his own ways. Hayden wrote this poem in open form. This form allowed his poem to come to life as it moves along. The poem contains fourteen lines and there is no rhythm or rhyming pattern
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Winter Dreaming of a Socratic Seminar The Socratic Seminar was an educational and enlightening experience. Before the day of the seminar I was a bit apprehensive and was not sure whether the class‚ or I for that matter‚ would participate much or learn much. After the class I felt great about the experience and learned a lot‚ it was good to have a conversation with my fellow classmates about the story in a relaxed atmosphere. I was confused on several aspects of the story and wanted to discuss several
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An Old Man’s Winter Night by Robert Frost All out-of-doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost‚ almost in separate stars‚ That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What kept him from remembering what it was That brought him to that creaking room was age. He stood with barrels round him—at a loss. And having scared the cellar under him In clomping there‚ he scared it once again In clomping
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My father died last two Tuesdays ago. As odd as it sounds from someone who keeps a poetry blog‚ I don’t immediately look to poetry for inspiration or comfort. The morning after the Boston Marathon bombings‚ for example‚ the news on television kept bringing up images for me of the science fiction show “Fringe”. Popular movies and television offer‚ to me‚ images and immediate visceral emotional connections. This is our age. So when my father died‚ I did not rattle off a poem. Even as we put together
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Those Winter Sundays In the poem‚ “Those Winter Sundays‚” by Robert Hayden‚ he tells a familiar story about the relationship between a parent and a child. The story is that more times than not‚ the child is oblivious to the sacrifices. He talks about the father still getting up on Sundays after a long work week‚ and how he would build a fire to warm up the house before his kids would get out of bed. He would also polish his child’s shoes. He would do all this and no one would ever thank him. “When
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