Excerpt from just one of the many letters I received after having included the phrase "the current anti-immigrant atmosphere" in a recent column:"Unfortunately you are mistaken in using the phrase 'anti-immigration atmosphere'. Many American citizens with brown, black, white, or even yellow skin are angry with ILLEGAL immigrants and the damage they have done to our country.
Esther J. Cepeda
Welcome to the brave new world of social (media) government -- a world where you can use mobile phone apps to get information from Uncle Sam so you don't actually have to talk to him.
On July 2, the White House relaunched its usa.gov website and rolled out 20 sleek new multiplatform apps that allow phones to perform wonders such as reading bar-codes and searching the database of Consumer Product Safety Commission recalls, and getting up-to-the minute travel advisories from the Transportation Security Administration.
Hold your breath for Latino members of the Illinois high school class of 2026. Who knows what recent changes in how they are to be taught will do for them.
Or to them.
DUBLIN, Ireland -- This column is a love note to the country that has -- more than any other -- made Chicago what it is today: a city defined by a group of immigrants who came to the U.S. tired and poor but overcame institutionalized discrimination to become a politically empowered majority.
It's that time of the year. The time of the year when the pressures of grades, final papers, home stresses and uncertainty about the future combine with youthful angst to create life-threatening hazardous conditions.
The time of year when my teacher and professor friends are happy the school year is almost over but lamenting the number of students in their classes who are missing finals because they've been hospitalized with stress-related ailments or full-blown depression.
The latest casualty in the war against illegal immigration is not the Highland Park girls basketball team, it's -- drumroll please -- reason. You know: the sense that God gave a goose.
How else to explain the flat-out immigration madness sweeping this great nation?
This week, people across the land will buy pink, frilly, and/or shiny
stuff to commemorate the Herculean effort their moms put into birthing
and raising them. As if brunch and a gift card to the local nail spa
could ever really express anyone's gratitude for not being left by the
side of the road after a particularly colicky night!
It's Money Smart Week in Chicago, that annual event sponsored by the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago, and -- if nothing else -- the city is accented with portraits of a robust Benjamin Franklin winking knowingly from the center of a $100 bill.
La tensión a raíz del asesinato del histórico líder ultraconservador
Eugène Terreblanche, quien luchó en las décadas de los ochentas y
noventas por mantener el apartheid en Sudáfrica, no pondría en riesgo el
Mundial de fútbol en junio, según autoridades del país africano; pese a
que las heridas del periodo no han sanado del todo.
Terminados los cuartos de final de la Liga de Campeones, y aunque
Inglaterra se quedó sin representantes en el torneo interclubes más
importante del continente europeo, el mundo sólo habla del gran
protagonista de la fecha, Lionel Messi.
Después de dejar al resto de representantes de la Concacaf por fuera de la Copa, el título quedará en casa mexicana.
Forget politics for just a moment, forget the oh-so-important "Latino
vote" and forget the activists pushing the family togetherness agenda.
Whether straining to Leave No Child Behind or Race to the Top, there's
no question that this country's leadership is zeroing in on education
from kindergarden through college. Most specifically, they're working on
the academic gap between the haves and have-nots domestically and on
the gap between the United States and other affluent countries.
How you doin'? Did you get enough rest over the weekend -- catch up on
your sleep? If not, join the club.
I remember my first Tea Party invitation. The "hosts" were a group ofloosely federated regional anti-illegal immigration groups, the occasion
was Tax Day, and the call to action was to "protest to demand the end
of taxation without representation."
The particular bone ofcontention was Gov. Quinn's then-proposed tax increase, described
thusly: "Governor Quinn says he must raise your income tax because he
doesn't have enough money to pay for all the social welfare benefits
demanded by the illegal alien invaders."
I've been on an insane Scott Joplin bender for two weeks now. I woke up two Saturdays ago thinking about ragtime and didn't even wait to get out of bed -- I downloaded 37 different rags straight into my iPod and have been obsessively playing them all over and over and over again ever since.
Me? I'm as nice as the next guy. I'll help people pick up dropped parcels, shovel the elderly neighbor's walk, drop a buck in the donation jar, that sort of thing.
But I'm not that nice: I've never once volunteered in a soup kitchen or spent time hanging out with the grannies in the nursing home -- it takes a very, very special person to give away their time or talent to others. Especially when that talent is highly in demand and can be charged at a premium.
The Department of Homeland security provided a keyhole of hopeful light for the reform crowd on Tuesday. They published "Estimates of the Unauthorized Immigrant Population Residing in the United States: January 2009" which was written by Michael Hoefer, Nancy Rytina, and Bryan C. Baker.
'Tis the season to be jolly! You're stuffed from the turkey and trimmings, all the relatives have been placated for the time being, and the Christmas carols haven't gotten on your nerves yet.
But things are moving quickly. There are greeting cards to mail, people to visit, electronic gadgets to hunt down and parties to get to. You're busy. Verrrrry busy. And stressed out, and even a little overwhelmed . . . ummmm, maybe this is not the time to ask for a favor?
Well, here I go anyway, but I'll make it as simple as possible: Please feed me.
Looking back on it, I just don’t know how I made it in.
Growing up at Addison and Lincoln there was no question where I wanted to go to high school: the gorgeous, ivy-covered walls of Albert G. Lane Technical High School up the street at Addison and Western.
The place where, every time I mentioned it, older folks would say "that place, yeah, my brother went there…before they let girls in."