tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88204223477808334902024-03-12T22:07:52.076-07:00RED PANTS LEGACYRed Pants for the World is a project designed to support an army of young women living created lives, altering the planet. We are committed to all women living great lives despite their circumstances. Our first program is to support the women in rural Afghanistan.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-44500861620974553242012-06-07T14:16:00.001-07:002012-06-07T14:16:08.969-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Please donate to Detropia, a documentary about Detroit and its rise from the ashes - anything from 1 to $10K will make a difference and do it soon!<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="360px" src="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/detropiathefilm/detropia-were-releasing-our-doc-independently/widget/video.html" width="480px"></iframe></div>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-33749768581300650362011-03-23T12:06:00.000-07:002011-03-23T12:20:16.723-07:00THE GIRL EFFECT - WATCH THIS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="text-align: center;"><span class="messageBody"></span></h6><div class="mvm uiStreamAttachments clearfix" data-ft="{"type":"attach"}" style="text-align: center;"><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix"><a class="uiVideoThumb UIImageBlock_Image UIImageBlock_MED_Image" data-ft="{"type":"media"}" href="http://www.facebook.com/" id="u693051_21" rel="async" tabindex="-1" target="_blank"><img class="img" src="http://external.ak.fbcdn.net/safe_image.php?d=e746f40324f8b8ac86c25dc15d0a8964&w=130&h=130&url=http%3A%2F%2Fexternal.ak.fbcdn.net%2Fsafe_image.php%3Fd%3Dac6191f1b46cb89377878c432b74651d%26url%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fi.ytimg.com%252Fvi%252F1e8xgF0JtVg%252F0.jpg" /></a><br />
<div class="UIImageBlock_Content UIImageBlock_MED_Content fsm fwn fcg"><div class="uiAttachmentTitle"><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1e8xgF0JtVg" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">The Girl Effect: The Clock is Ticking</a></b><br />
<b> </b> </div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.youtube.com</a></div></div></div></div>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-65971967967464191282011-01-12T17:53:00.000-08:002011-01-12T17:53:53.179-08:00A MILLION BOOKS FOR AFGHANISTAN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TS5aLT5kZVI/AAAAAAAAAfw/TJxva6gZFes/s1600/bookstack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TS5aLT5kZVI/AAAAAAAAAfw/TJxva6gZFes/s1600/bookstack.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>I am very excited about a new Red Pants for Afghanistan project--A Million Books For Afghanistan. I am committing the next three years to selling a million of my books and raising the funds to have five Afghanistan girls get the education that will make a difference in their lives and in the world. This is the beginning of that project so stay tuned! To start with, I am gearing up with my book signings - I have one this saturday in Bloomington, Indiana at Barnes & Noble, and scheduled two more today - one in Minneapolis and one in Cincinnati. Check back later and I will keep you updated.</b></span>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-1022327060672906932010-11-10T11:12:00.001-08:002010-11-10T11:12:52.040-08:00Care2 Educate Girls in the World<script type="text/JavaScript">
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This week I'm sharing links in honor of the UN's CEDAW--The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women -- in celebration of women and children around the world and their right to freedom and full self-expression.<br />
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<br />
CEDAW The Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination against Women A Priority:<br />
<a href="http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/cedaw/">http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/cedaw/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Nepal Orphans Home - attends to the welfare of children who are orphaned, abandoned, or not supported by their parents, providing for basic needs, schooling, and health care with love and compassion:<br />
<a href="http://www.nepalorphanshome.org/yoga_for_freedom.asp">http://www.nepalorphanshome.org/yoga_for_freedom.asp</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Half The Sky Foundation:<br />
<a href="http://www.halfthesky.org/">http://www.halfthesky.org/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
The Hunger Project:<br />
<a href="http://www.thp.org/">http://www.thp.org/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Three Cups of Tea:<br />
<a href="http://www.threecupsoftea.com/how-to-help/">http://www.threecupsoftea.com/how-to-help/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Afghan Women's Writing Project:<br />
<a href="http://www.awwproject.org/">http://www.awwproject.org/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>And in memory of Emily, whose life continues to fully flower.</i>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-73608722605066109822010-07-01T14:48:00.000-07:002010-07-01T14:48:19.229-07:00New Photos and Poetry from Afghanistan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8FZOplKI/AAAAAAAAAd4/e55K-j3OR9c/s1600/H+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8FZOplKI/AAAAAAAAAd4/e55K-j3OR9c/s320/H+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="TITLE1"><i>From How2 New Writing</i></div><div class="TITLE1"> </div><br />
<b>Peace by </b> <br />
<div class="TITLE1"><b>Fatana Jahangir Ahrary</b></div><br />
<br />
Like an enervated man <br />
Gasping for air <br />
Like a wounded bird <br />
Searching for remedy <br />
Like a guilty conscience <br />
Seeking some virtue <br />
Like a hungry child <br />
Craving some sustenance <br />
Like a thirsty creature <br />
Yearning for some water <br />
I want some serenity <br />
I need some harmony <br />
I am waiting for some tranquility <br />
Come please Come <br />
Peace Peace Peace<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8NQmT2kI/AAAAAAAAAd8/w_DHauLQs4c/s1600/Galerie+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8NQmT2kI/AAAAAAAAAd8/w_DHauLQs4c/s320/Galerie+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>Afghanistan by </b> <br />
<div class="TITLE1"><b>Zaheda Ghani</b></div><br />
<br />
<div class="TITLE2">Afghanistan...</div>Paper is falling out of the sky. I am in the garden. <br />
It’s sunny day. It comes back to me in slow <br />
motion. I’m three years old. My father is often <br />
amazed at the fact that I should remember this far <br />
back into my childhood. I tell him the <br />
memories are unforgettable. <br />
Paper continues to fall, communist <br />
propaganda literally rains down on us. The <br />
helicopters are so noisy, so high in the sky. I <br />
stand looking up, my arms are wide open. I want <br />
to catch all the pieces of falling paper.<br />
Paper, paper, everywhere<br />
At least it’s better than when they decide to shower <br />
us with bullets.<br />
Mother is at work. She is a teacher at the school <br />
across the street. You can see it when you <br />
go outside the huge walls of my grandparents’ <br />
property.<br />
The walls are made of the thick hay and mud. I <br />
remember the walls. The height of them makes me <br />
feel protected. I imagine that these walls <br />
are strong enough to stop the rockets.<br />
I go inside the house to play behind the big black <br />
couch in the main guestroom. This is where we <br />
hide when the sirens sound in the middle of the <br />
night.<br />
One night, I hear my father pray for us to die <br />
together if we are hit. That night he holds mother <br />
and I close to him. I can feel him shivering as I <br />
secretly agree with him. I’ve never seen father <br />
frightened before.<br />
Now, I play with my big red doll when it happens. I <br />
hear a loud noise. I know it is a bomb. I run out <br />
into the garden. Somehow, I find my hand in my <br />
aunt’s hand and I am being pulled behind her.<br />
Small feet try to keep up.<br />
Everyone gathers outside, <br />
smoke rises from the direction of the school. I see <br />
it come up over the wall. The noise numbs my ears. <br />
There is screaming and shouting on the other side <br />
where mother is.<br />
We run out of the gates, into the street, though I <br />
am hesitant. I don’t want to see her pieces lying <br />
before me. She would be coming home for <br />
lunch now.<br />
All I see is smoke. My heart has stopped, my <br />
knees shake, I know she’s gone. Everyone is <br />
crying. My grandmother holds me. My head is on her <br />
chest and I watch the smoke. I don’t say a word. I want <br />
her to walk out of the smoke. That’s all I want.<br />
I break free of my grandmother. I stand alone, but <br />
I do not cry. After that I don’t remember what <br />
happens. What I do recall is my mother, running <br />
out of the smoke. She runs towards me. I’m in her <br />
arms. I can smell her. She smells of mother. She <br />
holds me tight. She cries as she whispers “we have <br />
to get away from here.”<br />
My mouth is dry.<br />
<br />
If you are moved by these writings and pictures, please support Provence Solidaire Afghanistan or contact this blog by email to see how you can support women in Afghanistan.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-48868167246251103482010-06-24T13:27:00.000-07:002010-06-24T13:27:35.205-07:00New Pictures from Solidaire Provence AfghanistanHere are new photos from Afghanistan and Nafissa - the beautiful faces of the children. I believe these are from her village where she is supporting a school. I've included two poems written by Afghani women from How2.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO7f33BDHI/AAAAAAAAAdo/mIVsDVdhIPM/s1600/H+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO7f33BDHI/AAAAAAAAAdo/mIVsDVdhIPM/s400/H+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="TITLE1" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful poems are from How2 New Writing</div><div class="TITLE1" style="text-align: center;">http://www.asu.edu/pipercwcenter/how2journal</div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Written for women in Afghanistan</div><br />
<hr style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="TITLE2" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="world"></a>My world</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Where is the ear <br />
to hear my cries? </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Where is the eye <br />
to see my tears?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I am the ashes of a hopeless fire <br />
Where is the wind <br />
to refresh my flames?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I am a silent Darvish <br />
sitting in the cell of my grief</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Where is the flute </div><div style="text-align: center;">to sing my sorrows?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> by Fevziye Rahgozar Barlas </div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8VZ7BocI/AAAAAAAAAeA/PqwVC8svEVU/s1600/%C3%A9cole+Maternelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO8VZ7BocI/AAAAAAAAAeA/PqwVC8svEVU/s400/%C3%A9cole+Maternelle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Promise </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Remember you promised <br />
When the birds fly back home <br />
When the winter is gone <br />
When the spring sun shines again <br />
You will be here <br />
You will be back <br />
Winter is gone <br />
Birds are back home <br />
Spring sun is shining <br />
But......... <br />
You are not here <br />
You are not back </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">by Fatana Jahangir Ahrary</div><div class="TITLE1" style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO9FiFJHUI/AAAAAAAAAeI/6JfuhLUJ1VE/s1600/%C3%A9cole+%C3%A0+Mazar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/TCO9FiFJHUI/AAAAAAAAAeI/6JfuhLUJ1VE/s400/%C3%A9cole+%C3%A0+Mazar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-20972146333135855142010-04-07T06:33:00.000-07:002010-04-07T06:33:55.790-07:00I REMEMBER - writing about loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S7yIR6o2nUI/AAAAAAAAAcw/HabJwak2jIc/s1600-h/bluewindow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S7yIR6o2nUI/AAAAAAAAAcw/HabJwak2jIc/s320/bluewindow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">With the recent losses of my niece, Emily, and my long-time friend, Marilyn, I'm focusing Red Pants for the World right now on the legacies of those who have gone and using writing to make meaning of these legacies.</div><br />
My long-time friend, Peggy Bloczynski, is blogging today about her memories of her brother, the impact of his loss to her family and writing about that.<br />
<br />
<i>Do you remember when . . .</i><br />
<br />
We were a typical family in the 50s – mother, father, older brother, little sister. Dad went to work each day; mom stayed home. We never had a lot of money, but we always had enough. I remember little things from those years. Long summers outside, riding bikes and playing. My friend, Karen, and I kept a monopoly game going in her basement, a respite from the heat and humidity. I think it was a happy time. We were not a demonstrative family. Love, for my parents, was in the doing. We were cared for and valued. <br />
<br />
My brother, Harold, was six years older. In those early years, the age difference mattered. Maybe it always mattered. Only fragments of memories come to me: watching <i>I Led Three Lives</i> on the old black and white set; playing badminton in the back yard; tattling when I saw him smoking. We lived alongside each other. Liked each other. Barely knew one another.<br />
<i><br />
I do.<br />
I remember where.<br />
I remember how.<br />
I remember who.</i><br />
<br />
By the early sixties, we had moved to the suburbs. For the first time ever, I rode a bus to school and spent the day with kids I hadn’t known all my life. My brother had been allowed to finish out his senior year at his high school in town. He drove back and forth, his world very separate from mine. I think now about the sacrifice my mom made, allowing him to take her car each day and leaving her at the house. She did it without resentment, knowing, I think, how much greater his need was than hers. They were bound in a way I did not understand. I would see them talking at the kitchen table about his day, perhaps his plans and dreams. Years later, I would see her sit with my own son in much the same way. I saw the tenderness and love in her eye, the way she tilted her head, the softness in her voice; shadows of the child who first held her heart.<br />
<br />
<i>And the what - - Oh I remember the what.<br />
It is somewhere always with me.<br />
Some days beneath the every day;<br />
Some days at the top.</i><br />
<br />
Harold enlisted in the army after his high school graduation in 1964. The war in Viet Nam was in its early years. Young men were encouraged to enlist and apply for special training to avoid or delay combat assignments. Harold was accepted in the Army Intelligence program and landed, after basic, in a training program in Texas. It was during that time that I received the first and only gift I remember from him. It was a gold, wind-up alarm clock. It came, not in today’s shrink wrap, but in a sturdy box embossed with the manufacturer’s name. A birthday gift. I’m sure my mother had told him to send something, but that has never mattered. I was touched and awed by his gesture. Even now, when I take it carefully off the shelf, I know the wonder of that moment.<br />
<br />
<i>My mother would talk later about the car.<br />
Dark.<br />
A stranger’s car.<br />
Up and down the street, looking for just the right house.<br />
Ours.</i><br />
<br />
We have a photograph of my brother sleeping in the backseat of the old Chevy. He was home on leave before heading off to Viet Nam. I must have known he was going, I must have known this was a scary thing – but all I remember of that visit is standing on the toes of his combat boots while he held me steady. What did he think of me then? What would he think of me now? My mother told me much later that he sobbed the night before he left. She comforted him, reassured him, urged him to put his trust in God. . . That memory tore at her later. How could she have allowed him to go? <br />
<br />
<i>My picture has two men coming to the door.<br />
Uniforms.<br />
Very somber, very sorry.</i><br />
<br />
I had never seen my father cry before. It would be years later, as he approached his own death, that I would see him cry again. The military had been a good option in my dad’s eyes. A World War II veteran himself, he valued the sacrifice, honor, and service the uniform symbolized. Like many men in those times, his role in child rearing had been limited. As the youngest of 16 children in a poor, rural family, his relationship with his own father had been distant. I suspect he had looked forward to knowing his adult son, the man who carried his name. <br />
<br />
<i>My dad . . .<br />
He never showed me the image he held.<br />
Never talked about that night.<br />
Never</i>.<br />
<br />
Harold’s death came early enough in the war that each dead soldier’s body was accompanied by an honor guard once it was returned to the States. For days, our home was filled with friends, family, food, and phone calls. My mother spent hours in bed, sedated. My father welcomed people into our home. I sat and watched. People whispered about my bravery. No tears from me. Bad dreams, vomiting at night – but no tears. Not then. I did not know yet what I had lost.<br />
<br />
<i>My brother was dead.<br />
Too young, too much to live for,<br />
Too close to a war far away.</i><br />
<br />
My mother refused to wear black. She arrived at the funeral in a two-piece lime green suit, one of her favorites. Years later, she said it was an action of faith. She believed firmly in life after death. She would not shroud herself, would not allow the death of this body to overtake her belief in eternity. She never forgot, or forgave, those who criticized her in this matter. I believe she faced a horrible loss and reached deep to find a way in which she could survive. It was not until I had children of my own that I could begin to understand the strength and courage she must have summoned. To bury a child . . .<br />
<br />
<i>The shells that took him took part of each of us.<br />
My mother’s boy; her dear, sweet boy.<br />
My father’s namesake, his footprint in the world.</i><br />
<br />
I say, often, that my family changed then. Especially my mother. I say she was distant, not interested in me. But I was 14 years old and, I suppose, not particularly interested in her. I had always been my daddy’s girl; Harold had always been my mother’s boy. Where did that leave us? My mother placed the responsibility for my brother’s death in my father’s lap. If only he had been more supportive when my brother was young, more encouraging when he was a teen, more insistent on the safety of college instead of the obligation of the military.<br />
<br />
<i>Years of living with pain, beside pain<br />
Unspoken.<br />
Mother’s tears.<br />
Father’s silence.</i><br />
<br />
It was easy for me to leave home for college in 1970. Visits back brought pampering and spoiling from my mom. I looked forward to those times. After I married and settled in the Midwest, we established routines of visits and trips. It was the birth of my first child, though, that allowed me to see what used-to-be. My parents adored David. They would coo and gaze at him. I wondered, tried to remember – had it been like that with me?<br />
<i><br />
The loss of a sibling, the shared memories.<br />
A foothold.<br />
No one who ‘remembers when . . .’ for me.</i><br />
<br />
Questions. Always questions. Still questions.<br />
<i><br />
This is war.<br />
These are casualties.<br />
Forty years gone,<br />
But always near.</i><br />
<br />
I look for lessons. I look for reasons. Is there only loss? Surely, not. I am pragmatic; I am realistic. I survive. I care deeply and feel deeply. I laugh. I am happy.<br />
<br />
And sometimes . . . . sometimes, I cry.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-35209809413826294812010-03-21T07:51:00.000-07:002010-04-09T09:17:37.064-07:00EMILY'S PROMISE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S6YxvmC1W5I/AAAAAAAAAck/uvKuHCGE9V4/s1600-h/s1039980764_30451825_2549475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S6YxvmC1W5I/AAAAAAAAAck/uvKuHCGE9V4/s200/s1039980764_30451825_2549475.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On Monday, March 15th, my niece, Emily Wilkes, one of my original Red Pants Girls, walked on, leaving behind many family and friends who will miss her spirit.<br />
<br />
<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">STAY HERE- REMEMBER ME<br />
A Poem for Emily<br />
<br />
Stay Here<br />
I looked and could not see you,<br />
Slowly fading into the mist of days.<br />
<br />
But to the end we fought to keep you here,<br />
And make you stay.<br />
<br />
You lent us your gentle spirit, <br />
But I felt your need to break away.<br />
In the end, your spirit knew best <br />
How to soar free, not to stay.<br />
<br />
Remember Me<br />
F<span class="text_exposed_hide">or</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> your love of things struggling in the world, <br />
We remember you. <br />
For your light step and lighter laughter, <br />
We remember you.<br />
For what we can make of our lives from yours, <br />
We remember you.<br />
<br />
God speed, Emily<br />
Fly free and<br />
Watch over us all</span></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" data-ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show">Emily's Promise - Do something good for the world in Emily's name</span></span></h3>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-51607449642226449632010-02-22T12:24:00.000-08:002010-02-22T12:24:03.716-08:00I'VE BEEN HYBERNATING - BUT I'M BACK!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S4Ll9r5QeCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZagqpUC93aw/s1600-h/mime-attachment-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/S4Ll9r5QeCI/AAAAAAAAAbs/ZagqpUC93aw/s400/mime-attachment-7.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>I've taken the past two months off to just 'be', consider my next 30 years and what my real commitments are. Red Pants will always continue and I am getting ready to send Nafisa another piece of cash from donations over the holidays to continue purchasing books and other materials for her rural village in Afghanistan.<br />
<br />
I've been reading "Stones For Schools" by Greg Mortenson and "Half the Sky" by Kristof and Wudunn - both gifts for Christmas from my daughter, Rudi, and her partner, Melissa. I recommend them both as real glimpses at the lives of some girls and women on our planet.<br />
<br />
Remember to visit www.cafepress.RedPants<br />
<br />
JudiInfogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-72223222408570405112009-12-30T15:24:00.000-08:002009-12-30T15:24:40.224-08:00Another HAPPY NEW YEAR! 2010!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SzvgyDDLNgI/AAAAAAAAAbM/wCvOl_R9Amw/s1600-h/Nafi+on+the+roofs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SzvgyDDLNgI/AAAAAAAAAbM/wCvOl_R9Amw/s320/Nafi+on+the+roofs.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b>Nafi on the roof </b></i><br />
</div>Here we are again - a few hundred dollars more going to Nafissa in Afghanistan and a quiet period for now. I should be back up with more activity around Red Pants in the next few months, planning on following up with two new groups here in the US. My $500 loan to Kiva.org has been 50% paid off so more money will be freed up to send to Nafi and having had a discussion with a friend in Michigan, I'd love to see a Red Pants group going there. We'll see how the new year goes.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-32343171451282999752009-08-10T17:52:00.001-07:002009-08-10T17:53:56.407-07:00Red Pants at Silk Road Festival<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SoDA3wGm1cI/AAAAAAAAAPo/HWbecvNE71g/s1600-h/postcard_final_Page_1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SoDA3wGm1cI/AAAAAAAAAPo/HWbecvNE71g/s320/postcard_final_Page_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368502819863582146" /></a><br />We had a great musical event - the 17th Annual - amazing musicians and lots of people, including an interview on PBS about Red Pants and I met a documentary filmmaker who I hope to connect with Nafissa -Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-1326934155609359062009-08-03T12:25:00.000-07:002009-08-03T12:30:03.270-07:00SILK ROAD ENSEMBLE CONCERT!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/Snc5_i78MxI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/l-ZrikcaKfA/s1600-h/postcard_final_Page_1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/Snc5_i78MxI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/l-ZrikcaKfA/s320/postcard_final_Page_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365821244907991826" /></a><br />Red Pants for the World is partnering with Silk Road Institute/Silk Road Ensemble for A Musical Journey Along the Silk Road. <br /><br />On August 8, 2009, master musicians representing the Middle East, Central and East Asia, the Caucasus and Europe will converge in Bloomington for the 17th Annual Silk Road Festival. <br /><br />This year’s festival is titled “Undiscovered Treasure: Masters of their Crafts” and will take the audience on a “Mystic Journey” with featured artist, Iranian master of the Setar, Jalal Zolfanoon. <br /> <br />Dr. Shahyar Daneshgar, Silk Road Ensemble and Silk Road Institute director and co-founder of the Lotus World Music Festival, yearly assembles some of the greatest living masters of traditional instruments to transport audience members to lands marveled at by Marco Polo. Dr. Daneshgar is an Indiana University faculty member and musician trained in the Tehran classical conservatory. <br /> <br />Silk Road music reflects a millennia of cultural exchange between East and West. You might identify hints of Spanish flamenco or Gregorian chant in the complex rhythms. The instruments on stage will reflect the cross-fertilization of cultures: some resembling violins, others close to lutes and tambourines. Some singers imitate nightingales, and others are able to simultaneously produce different tones in the throat. <br /><br />Each year the Silk Road Festival highlights a master performer from one country. On this occasion, we proudly present Master Jalal Zolfonoon, the Iranian setar virtuoso, whose name is as famous as that of Ravi Shankar, in the domain of Persian classical and mystical music. The eminent Mr. Zolfonoon singlehandedly brought the setar back to prominence in Iran after cultural and artistic restrictions imposed following the 1979 Revolution, and recorded the best-selling Iranian folk album to date, “Flower of 100 Petals”.<br /> <br />Just returning from his latest international tour, Mr. Zolfonoon will be joined by his son, another famed Persian classical musician, and the usual line-up of talented ensemble artists from Mongolia, Azerbaijan, Turkey, India, Russia, Afghanistan, and more. These artists will also offer a public lecture entitled “The Musical Traditions of the Silk Road Peoples” on the evening of Friday, 31 July from 7 to 8:30 p.m., in Ballantine Room 109, and a workshop on “The Classical Music of the East” on Saturday, 8 August.<br /><br />This year’s concert also marks the launch of the Silk Road Institute, a non-profit organization advancing education about the arts and culture of the Silk Road regions. <br /> <br />The concert is scheduled for Saturday, August 8 2009, at 5:30pm in the auditorium of the First Presbyterian Church, 221 E. 6th Street, Bloomington, Indiana. Tickets are available at all Bloomingfoods locations and are $5 in advance, or $7 at the door. IU students with ID are admitted free. <br /><br />Please see www.silkroadensemble.com for more information, or contact Dr. Shahyar Daneshgar at 812-322-4702, or Administrative Director Sarah Forbey at 202-306-7234 or sarah@silkroadensemble.comInfogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-27354663547215212672009-06-28T09:34:00.001-07:002009-06-28T09:38:24.944-07:00NEW DEVELOPMENTS WITH RED PANTS AFGHANISTAN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SkebuVIuxqI/AAAAAAAAAO4/6sZaMfl5upk/s1600-h/childrencrouchtote.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SkebuVIuxqI/AAAAAAAAAO4/6sZaMfl5upk/s320/childrencrouchtote.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352417902403176098" /></a>We have sent $100 to Solidarity Provence Afghanistan, have another $500 being repaid to our Kiva.org account, ready to be sent to Nafi's organization in Paris throughout the coming year. We are excited about forming an alliance with Silk Road Ensemble to expand our efforts in providing educational resources for the people and in particular, the women and children of Afghanistan. See The Silk Road Ensemble: http://www.silkroadensemble.com.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-30921824548278632262009-04-12T03:41:00.000-07:002009-04-12T03:49:52.559-07:00Still hoping to raise $250 for Solidaire Provence Afghanistan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SeHF7VGDyBI/AAAAAAAAAM4/PnyB_y-dBfg/s1600-h/crowd+of+people.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 114px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SeHF7VGDyBI/AAAAAAAAAM4/PnyB_y-dBfg/s200/crowd+of+people.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323753857594148882" /></a><br /><br />Things are slow right now--any suggestions or contributions to Red Pants Afghanistan are appreciated so we can start funding Nafissa and her organization. We have $500 loaned to a family through Kiva that should come back to us within a year or less, but in the meantime, we promised $250 to Nafissa by May 29th. <br /><br />One of the team suggested we ask ten people we know to donate a buck - that could mount up. If you have ideas, send them on. Right now I think the missing element is people don't know where to send the $$ to. They can always contact me or one of my team through email and get the address privately. I'm also considering starting a Paypal account separate from a personal one, in the Red Pants name. <br /><br />Oh, have a happy Easter, those of you who are of that faith. JudiInfogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-9242247235429613982009-03-24T10:13:00.000-07:002009-06-28T09:28:08.939-07:00NAFISSA'S STORY<span style="font-weight:bold;">Biography of Nafi Nassim</span><br /> <br />Nafi Nassim was born in Kabul January 16, 1949. She studied and became a nurse in her home country. She was granted a scholarship from the French government, enabling her to complete her training in Lyon from 1970 to 1972. Nafi Nassim then worked as a trained nurse in Iran; this is where she was informed of the communist State Coup in Afghanistan in February of 1978.<br /> <br />Back in Afghanistan, she was confronted with the disappearance of her husband, imprisoned and tortured. The 1979 Soviet intervention made the Afghan government all the more repressive: Nafi’s brother disappeared, her son was taken by force to the USSR to be trained as a diesel engine specialist, at the age of 14.<br /> <br />Life in Kabul becoming unbearable for her and her family, Nafissa decided to leave clandestinely in March 1981 with her 13-year-old daughter for Teheran. Once her daughter was safe with good friends there, she later undertook a second clandestine trip from Teheran to Kabul to go and get her mother and then from Kabul to Teheran, smuggling herself again between the Soviet army checkpoints.<br /> <br />Stopped at the Iran border by the Iranian army she was imprisoned. Free after a few days, she remained clandestinely in Iran for 7 months, healing the wounded people from the Iran/Irak war, until she finally was granted political asylum in France in the fall of 1981.<br /> <br />She resumed her studies to be a nurse as the Afghan degree was no longer recognized by the French educational system and finally obtained her State Registered Nurse Degree.<br /> <br />She had just obtained her degree when she left once more, this time to go and get her son who in the meantime had been enrolled by force into the communist Afghan army. She worked during two painstaking years in the Afghan refugee camps in Pakistan to be able to lead her investigations with the help of the Afghan Mujahiddin.<br /> <br />She managed to enter Afghanistan once again, clandestinely, in 1988 where she retrieved her son, helped him desert the army with the help of anti-soviet resistance people, to finally go to Pakistan and then on to France in October 1989.<br /> <br />Nafissa became a French citizen in January 1997.<br /> <br />This part of her own history is retraced in her book entitled “From Kabul to Marseilles” (translated in German and Czech language but unfortunately not available in English).<br /> <br />Settled as a SRN in Marseilles she returned to Afghanistan as soon as the Talibans were defeated and since then, almost every year, continues to contribute and help the Afghan population.<br /> <br />She has participated in many conferences and meetings in France, speaking her own voice and vision of an Afghanistan rid of any fundamentalism or ethnic privilege.<br /> <br />In 2005 she founded, with a few friends, the association « Solidarité Provence Afghanistan » whose objective is to help the most unprivileged Afghans and raise awareness on the Afghan culture in France. This association is presently composed of 90 members in Marseilles and surroundings. This Non Governmental Organization is especially intended to help in Afghanistan onsite, particularly schools through bringing pencils, pens, writing books etc as well as the most unprivileged families through bringing first need goods such as rice, soap, matches, oil, sugar, tea etc.<br /> <br />The association raises funds in South of France through the organization of Afghan music, meals, attire shows of various provinces. Upon request Nafi Nassim speaks for school teachers and pupils presenting them with the political situation in Afghanistan and women’s condition.<br /> <br />The association Solidarité Provence Afghanistan, chaired by Nafi, is a Non Governmental Organization helping populations without taking a direct political side. As most French NGO's, Solidarité Provence Afghanistan is not inclined either for or against the occidental military presence; we do not wish to substitute for the government authority or the Parliament. In any case, help for the population is necessary. Of course a country cannot evolve without a minimum security which is not possible without development and respect of the populations. NGOs’ first goal is a help to the development of Afghanistan.<br /> <br />Nafi Nassim, with her friend Sylvie Orsoni, also wrote a cooking book of Afghan receipes entitled « Parfums et couleurs de la cuisine afghane » Editions de l’Aube, unfortunately not available in English.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-75899369189203194652009-03-24T10:07:00.001-07:002009-03-24T10:13:34.857-07:00Pictures from Afghanistan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckUpvoZ-pI/AAAAAAAAAMw/b8x4x_AwKMg/s1600-h/cowsvillage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckUpvoZ-pI/AAAAAAAAAMw/b8x4x_AwKMg/s200/cowsvillage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316803542480714386" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckUR2MeJOI/AAAAAAAAAMo/BLY1jbE5Seg/s1600-h/villagelaundry.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckUR2MeJOI/AAAAAAAAAMo/BLY1jbE5Seg/s200/villagelaundry.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316803131925734626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckT38majVI/AAAAAAAAAMg/lP5JKSupAeM/s1600-h/market.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckT38majVI/AAAAAAAAAMg/lP5JKSupAeM/s200/market.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316802686968565074" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckTkbtFyRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/tgurTVg5ty0/s1600-h/women%26childjpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckTkbtFyRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/tgurTVg5ty0/s200/women%26childjpg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316802351720679698" /></a>Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-58668082710001600372009-03-24T09:52:00.000-07:002009-03-24T09:58:30.981-07:00SOLIDARITE PROVENCE AFGHANISTAN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckQMI7IlUI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/864BYn99JYc/s1600-h/women.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SckQMI7IlUI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/864BYn99JYc/s320/women.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316798635827565890" /></a><br /><br />SOLIDARITE PROVENCE AFGHANISTAN<br /><br />(A Few words about the association)<br /><br />Created in March 2005, this association aims to bring assistance to Afghan people (especially in what concerns health and scholarship), and to organize cultural and informative meetings about Afghanistan.<br /><br />The association is not linked to any political strength, nor French or Afghan. Neither does it have religious views. In fact, its action is more headed towards Human Rights defense, and it believes in a society that would not be based on ethnical criteria.<br />The association "Solidarité Provence Afghanistan" is a regional one which goal is not to interfere in the big work necessary to the country reconstruction. Indeed, our association wants to specialize into bringing help to the population by giving them necessary things that are missing in many villages but can be found easily in bigger cities : school furnitures, tissue, soap, box ot matches, sugar, rice...<br /><br />"Solidarité Provence Afghanistan" offers to work in partnership with other associations that pursue the same objectives, at a national or regional scale.<br /><br />According to the guiding principles of sustainable development, we give priority to local techniques. In 2005, 2006 and 2007, we particularly helped a little village near Ghazni by giving people who were in need vital aids. In this village and around, 1700 scholar kits were handed out in 2006 and 1000 in 2007. Our aim is to reduce the number of go-between by giving directly, in the form of useful products bought on the spot, the money collected in France during public meetings and thanks to the members of the association.<br /><br />Each year, two members of the association travel to Kaboul, the journey paid for by their own means. Before they go, an administration council decides on how much money they should be given, and what they should do with it. The association works with permanent contacts in Aghanistan so that the help would not depend to much on the travels, which can be postponed for security reasons.<br /><br />The association put its knowledge at the disposal of other organizations that intervene to help Afghan people. Indeed, it offers its services in what concerns translation and training programs, especially.<br /><br />The association also acts in France, in order to make the Afghan culture better known : parties are organized around Afghan musicians or poets. The association can intervene on demand in schools and cultural centers in order to tell people about the nowadays situation in Afghanistan, but also about this country history or its women situation. The cultural intervention in PACA is absolutely necessary to the action on the spot, in Afghanistan, since it is during these meetings that we ask people for gifts and memberships.<br /><br />The more occidental countries and their people will care about Afghanistan, the less fundamentalist influences would be observed.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-15497567222778041012009-03-09T14:59:00.001-07:002009-03-09T15:03:18.266-07:00Nafissa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SbWRcxRGO2I/AAAAAAAAALE/f4C83dW5Ztg/s1600-h/a+classroom.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SbWRcxRGO2I/AAAAAAAAALE/f4C83dW5Ztg/s320/a+classroom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311311259000781666" /></a> Through Dominique, a great friend in Paris, we now have a project to work for: Nafissa is an extraordinary Afghani woman who lives in France and devotes much of her time to traveling in and out of Afghanistan, bringing resources, in particular educational, to rural villages where few NPO's go. <br /><br />I'll paste in her story on another post <br /><br />Judi - Red PantsInfogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-91088815812714287302008-12-31T15:10:00.001-08:002008-12-31T15:46:33.008-08:00HAPPPY NEW YEAR 2009 FROM RED PANTS!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SVv8PRxcLKI/AAAAAAAAAJo/PBUee5ObO34/s1600-h/5dc27f8607e9b3b1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 115px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SVv8PRxcLKI/AAAAAAAAAJo/PBUee5ObO34/s200/5dc27f8607e9b3b1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286095927048416418" /></a><br />WELL, it's on to 2009 - we have lots of ideas including making a video, starting a Red Pants Girls group at the local women's shelter where they will write up their stories of living powerfully into their futures. I have a new suggestion for Red Pants from Lena in Columbus Oh - her sister and sister's partner are raising $ for the GLB in their town selling crafts. <br /><br />Minling in Cleveland is looking at ways to gather stories about families around the world. My daughter, Rudi and her partner, Melissa, are living the Red Pants Girls lives - working with kids at risk from drugs and alcohol. <br /><br />Oh, and the $500 donated so far has been lent to a woman in Cambodia who is building a house for her nieces and nephews (kiva.org). <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SVv9xhcs9TI/AAAAAAAAAJw/MRhGWeS6N1s/s1600-h/237650.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 100px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SVv9xhcs9TI/AAAAAAAAAJw/MRhGWeS6N1s/s200/237650.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286097614883583282" /></a><br />I'm looking for more Red Pants - an expansion of my army of young women, living created lives, out to alter the planet! Any and all Red Pants Girls who are fulfilling on their lives are welcome - as are suggestions! <br /><br />JudiInfogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-3263323662444903522008-10-01T14:00:00.000-07:002008-10-01T14:07:29.546-07:00We've got $500 So Far!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SOPmb3zdFDI/AAAAAAAAAHc/gX4Tp5PtpA4/s1600-h/redpantsvaladon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SOPmb3zdFDI/AAAAAAAAAHc/gX4Tp5PtpA4/s320/redpantsvaladon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252294956954752050" /></a><br />We've raised $500 so far for Red Pants. Things are moving along, we have contacts with a few organizations in Afghanistan and we're looking for more contacts. We have had meetings with IU School of Ed. who are involved with a teaching grant for AFghanistan. We plan to loan the $500 right now to Kiva, an organization giving micro-loans to people around the world and we'll find an Afghanistan woman to loan it to -Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820422347780833490.post-30610092160201044782008-08-06T18:44:00.000-07:002008-08-06T18:51:36.633-07:00WELCOME TO RED PANTS LEGACY<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SJpU9dvWFwI/AAAAAAAAAHI/r-R22nmZRJ8/s1600-h/543866016_13eb10ad87_m.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HVnvtDkxix0/SJpU9dvWFwI/AAAAAAAAAHI/r-R22nmZRJ8/s320/543866016_13eb10ad87_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231587332076214018" /></a><br /><br />A blog to promote young women creating lives they love - stay tuned for updates on those who are already out there causing a world that works and those who are about to - judi romaine - I promise a world where all hearts are open, all people connected.Infogypsyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15598764569161683076noreply@blogger.com3