Riley's blog

To be courageous is to do something, even though you are afraid of it. When I was working with the Service Advisor at Rick Collins Toyota on a Saturday, I had to exhibit this trait. The Service Advisor was a girl, and I am not a large man, to say the least. However, we found ourselves dealing with a person that was not supposed to be in the Service Department. He was older and unkempt. We could not tell, as he had his back to us, but he seemed predatory as he paced back and forth through the department. Arriving at the realization that he was not the owner of any car that we were looking at today, we decided that someone must go and see what this gentlemen needed. We did the right thing, we called a man. However, the man in the Parts Department did not answer. So, the Service Advisor and I stood wearily at door. It was here that I came to an unfortunate realization, I am a man.

It became my job to muster up the courage to make sure this gentlemen got the attention he needed. I could have let her go talk to him, as it could be her job, but if he were crazy I couldn’t very well let her deal with him. So, I buffed out my chest and threw the door open and marched out to the Service Department, and gently said, “Can I help you today, Sir?”

He turned and had a friendly face. He said he was watching the cars and waiting for his van to finish. As it turns out, he was with one of the car owners. He had ridden with him and went to the Service Department while his companion spoke to us. In hindsight, it’s not the greatest showing of bravery or courage, but I didn’t know that.

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light. She used every ounce of her strength finally admit that she needed help.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up into a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

“I just went to the doctor today, after four days,” the girl says, “and I feel terrible.” As it happens, the young girl did in fact have a perforated ear drum. It is hard to sympathize with a perforated ear drum, as less than 1% of people in the U.S are plagued by it every year. This is much less common, and much more painful than the common cold, however, males are likely to visit the nurse or the physician within a couple days of their initial symptoms of the flu or the common cold.

Women are built for such pain. They are built to bare children, therefore, their bodies have evolved to handle the pain. Although it could be argued that men ignore the issues women face, the need for medical assistance is a problem they must personally realize. Men are not more susceptible to illness, however, they are not built to handle sickness or injury as women are.

“Women know their bodies more,” says Morningside Nurse Practitioner Lexi Kohn, “they are more proactive with their illnesses.” Morningside sub-nurse Paula Guntren adds, “men are more unsure of their symptoms, so they come to get checked.” Both nurses add that while they see an equal balance of men and women, their visits from women are different. Their illnesses may be more severe or they have injuries that need to be tended to.

A perforated ear drum usually follows and ear infection. This is a time where people experience both pain and sickness. Here, most men would find their way to the doctor to be treated. The college girl did not do this. Her perseverance through the illness led to an even worse diagnosis. According to Kohn and Guntren, most Morningsiders tend to receive treatment in the first days of their illnesses. She waited twice as long, and dealt with a much larger issue in return.

Looking at the woman who would eventually die of a heart attack, she had all the normal issues; trouble breathing, perspiration, and arm pain, yet she ignored them as run of the mill ailments. Pain was often related to her lifelong battle with arthritis. Her shortness of breath could be attributed to yet another bout of Pneumonia, which she had battled several times. She had seen these issues before, and conquered them. She had no reason to believe that she was having a heart attack, and her fate would be the opposite of her own brother.

These same symptoms that plagued her brother led him to the hospital, where it was confirmed that he was having a heart attack. Here he was treated, and released to Cardio Rehab. This is where he would come to amazing realization. Upon seeing that the majority of patients were men, he asked the nurse why there were no women. Surely they must have heart attacks as well. The answer was simple, “women ignore their symptoms” the nurse said. “When women have heart attacks, they usually die.”

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while her every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit.  She used every ounce of her strength to open the door and finally admit that she needed help. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

“I just went to the doctor today, after four days,” the girl says, “and I feel terrible.” As it happens, the young girl did in fact have a perforated ear drum. It is hard to sympathize with a perforated ear drum, as less than 1% of people in the U.S are plagued by it every year. This is much less common, and much more painful than the common cold, however, males are likely to visit the nurse or the physician within a couple days of their initial symptoms of the flu or the common cold.

Women are built for such pain. They are built to bare children, therefore, their bodies have evolved to handle the pain. Although it could be argued that men ignore the issues women face, the need for medical assistance is a problem they must personally realize. Men are not more susceptible to illness, however, they are not built to handle sickness or injury as women are.

Looking at the woman who would eventually die of a heart attack, she had all the normal issues; trouble breathing, perspiration, and arm pain, yet she ignored them as run of the mill ailments. Her fate would not match that of her brother, who survived his heart attack nearly ten years prior. It is he that first told me that women ignore their medical issues.

As he walked into rehabilitation after his heart attack, he would notice a staggering amount of men, and few women. He knew that women must have heart attacks as well, but he couldn’t figure out why there were known there. The answer is simple. The nurse told him, “when women have heart attacks, they usually die.”

My name is interesting, as there are relatively few Liljenquist’s. There have to be even fewer Riley Liljenquists. In fact, in the United States, I am the only one. That is one of the funny things about my name. My middle name is McCloud, named after the character Duncan Macleod from the television show, obviously spelled different. In that show, the idea is that there can only be one Highlander, which is funny because I believe there can only be one Riley.

I feel sort of vindicated, knowing that there is only one Riley Liljenquist. I’ve pretended that I could be the only one. In fact, from time to time, when I sarcastically announce my presence, I use third person to say “make room for Riley.” I say it as if I were the only one. But, it’s true, I am the only one. In fact, I have only met a handful of other Riley’s in my life, only one of which had the same spelling. That’s how I’ve lived my life, as Robin Williams says, “you ain’t never had a friend like me.”

The name Riley has stood the test of time. Over the course of human history, the Irish and Western European name Riley is one that our culture has marked as one that goes back hundreds of years in our history. To have such a name, is to join the long line of those that have come before us. My name is Riley Liljenquist. My Swedish surname and my Irish first name ensure that I am the only one in these United States. So, I must take it upon myself to make the name as memorable as possible, as I am the representative of my name in this nation.

To be the only Riley Liljenquist, is to take on the responsibility given to me by my parents. I have kept my ancestral roots with me, as I have never lived the life of an Irishman, but I have never strayed away from the original birth place of that name.

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while her every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit.  She used every ounce of her strength to open the door and finally admit that she needed help. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

People don’t have a problem with free stuff. Even apprehension is put backseat to acceptance. Over the course of ten days, I have been going around offering free Scooby Snacks to people, and I did not run in to one person that turned away from free snacks.

“Sure?” One student responded when I offered him a Snack. He was unsure if this was something that he wanted. But I assured him that it was safe. Once he saw that is was, in fact, a boxed good his uncertainty disappeared.

“Thanks,” said Luis, a Morningside international student. Under stubble, what I took to be a permanent look, he seemed unsure, almost like he didn’t know what was happening. He had a thick accent, so there was struggle to keep the conversation going, but I did notice that he was in fact appreciative of the food. His appreciation was not that of necessity, but it was surprise that someone may offer him something.

Girls I found to be apprehensive, especially those that I didn’t know. Many of them couldn’t grasp why a random male student would give them candy. To them, I would explain that it was an assignment for class, in which case they gladly accepted free treats. It seemed by the same unassured look that I got from each girl, that in this new era it is a bit strange for a male to offer something free. But when nothing is demanded in return, it is seen as a sweet gesture. It makes me wonder if there is something to be said about gender politics, when a simple snack can is questioned.

Off campus, at work, I noticed much less apprehension, which I what I assumed from the beginning.  I had scene reactions from people who had taken free food before, and I wondered if the same would be true for me.

“What is it?” Ray asked. He was a tall guy in his mid thirties with shaggy hair and some scruff on his face. I explained that they work in fact Scooby snacks. “Yes!” he said, and hurriedly took one. The same could not be said for my other coworkers, who gladly took one, and only asked what they took after they began eating. I’m glad that this happened because it proved that my experiment of offering food was a success.

It seems college students live in a bubble. We are unsure about the outside world, therefore we are apprehensive when offered free things, food especially. However, once we realize that it comes from a box, a little trigger goes off in our brain, telling us that this must be safe. My coworkers have been out of school for some time, three years, at least, for the youngest of them. They have more experience, therefore they are less fearful of what people have to offer. Maybe they care a little less about there health, but it may be something a little more optimistic. It may be that they know kindness and generosity don’t always need to be questioned.

“Did you know you have a purple-haired driver?” one rider asks the Old Capitol cab company. Driving a big yellow taxi in Iowa City is raven-haired Kris Evans. She loves navigating the streets and meeting new people, often working until the early morning hours, finishing a twelve hour shift.

Standing taller than most women, and some men, purple-haired Kris Evans has no fear of burning the midnight oil. The taxi driver loves her job, spending 12 hours a day navigating the streets of Iowa City.

The Longreads article “An Inquiry Into Abuse” focused on the possible abuse of Pat Nixon, from her husband Richard Nixon. In the first half, the article focuses on three separate accounts of possible abuse, which were all discounted because of the difficulty to verify any of the claims. This difficulty of verification is taken with great respect in this article, however, in the second half, the article focuses on the people within the Nixon campaigns that have their own stories of abuse. These allegations, along with commentary from former Nixon staffer Roger Morris, paint the picture that the abuse of Pat Nixon and others in the life of Richard Nixon was real.

The story itself is good, however, the lead could use rewriting that would capture the readers attention, had the headline not been enough. The original lead reads: Allegations that Richard Nixon beat his wife, Pat Nixon, have circulated for decades without serious examination by the journalists who covered his presidency. It’s time to look more closely at what’s been hiding in plain view.

My possibilities for the lead are as follows:

Richard Nixon abused many things in his life, his power included. However, longstanding allegations that he abused his wife may be true.

The Nixon story is dampened by lies and secrets. However, there may be truth in the stories that the former President beat his wife.

Former President Richard Nixon stepped on everyone to ever challenge him. Years of consideration have led to the belief that one of those victims was his own wife.

An Inquiry Into Abuse

Following my reading of “History of American Protest Music,” on Longreads, I’ve found the dissecting details of the story. Those details focus on character, narrative structure, and themes.

The main theme of this story morality, or humanity. We are too look at the world, or the issues within, and we are to decide what the moral side is and which side we are on. The theme is accomplished through a story about protest music. In the 1930’s a mining company got into a brutal war with union workers of a small Kentucky town. This inspired a union leader’s wife to write the song “Which Side Are You On?”. It holds on to this idea throughout the story of protest music, with “Which Side Are You On?” being used as the basis.

A major character throughout the piece, is Florence Reece, who is the union leader wife that wrote the song. She is portrayed as the first person to use music to protest what is happening in the world, to turn it into a more understandable issue. A man named Jim Garland understood her issue, and her song, and took it with him to New York. Pete Seeger is the man that heard the song, and recorded it, which made Florence’s issue a national anthem.

The characters begin to disappear into the structure after Seeger’s recording. The structure is connected with the history of “Which Side are You On?”. It has a chronological structure that moves along with time, from the 1930’s to the 1960’s. It begin’s with Florence Reece’s first lyrics, and ends with in the 1960’s when others add their own lyrics to fit the situations they are protesting.

The most major character is the song itself. It is a representation of a person. It is what weaves us through the timeline, and represents the theme. It changes over the course of time as other lyrics are added. It remains timely because it is changed by people over thirty years who are all going through similar issues.

The structure and characters all connect back to he theme of morality. It clearly points you towards protest, but it wants you to make this an issue that is important enough for the whole nation to get behind. The article wants us to pick our side of the fence, and ends with a persuasion to write the next lyric, like the generations before us did.

A History of American Protest Music: Which Side Are You On?