THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 12

PLAN B

Except for the ringing of the bells on the patio, the silence of the Maximum Security Prison was broken only three times each day: at seven in the morning when Jailer turned a key in my cell’s lock and waved me out for my morning exercise; at noon, when the noise of silverware announced lunchtime; and finally at dusk, when I returned to my cell to sleep. At that time, I’d hear the last sound of the day: the key closing the heavy metal door. Aside from these moments, the Maximum Security Prison was as still as a tomb, endless as eternity.

As usual, Jailer spent twenty-four hours a day with his radio glued to his ear listening to City news. In his own way, he cheered for good news and suffered over unpleasant circumstances. The pendulum of his emotions swung back and forth from one extreme to another, but nothing upset him. He let no emotion whatsoever show.

From the first day of my imprisonment, I’d been worrying that CC would lose the game against our rivals. It hurt just to think that the Loner’s trophy could end up in the hands of our enemies, especially after such a dirty maneuver to keep me out of the game. I was drowning in pessimism, with negative thoughts gnawing at me when I heard rapid footsteps.

It was Champion.

He’d come in search of a quick solution to a serious problem. His expression was completely innocent.

“Good afternoon, Jailer,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Champion. It’s an immense honor to greet you on this luminous festive afternoon. What motives led you to navigate these seas and anchor at this port? Any storms brewing?

To compensate his silent life, jailer took advantage of any opportune moment such as this to exercise his tongue, working out carefully worded phrases to the rhythm of harmoniously combined sounds. His weakness was exalted diction and convoluted syntax.

“I came to chat a bit,” Champion said.

“I’m honored, but undeserving of such a generous gesture, my honorable friend, especially on this memorable day when you are the epicenter of the entire City’s attentions. Nevertheless, I deem it more advantageous at this particular moment for you to be with the CC team offering the wise and discerning words of psychological support of which they must be in dire need, and to be perfecting the technical strategies that will insure our success. Therefore, as time quickly sifts through the hourglass, I remind you, dear sport, that only one half hour remains.”

“And that is why I am here.”

For the first time in his life, Champion was at a loss for words. Walking on thin ice, he needed to employ sensitivity and diplomacy so that Plan B would not fail.

He approached the topic, bringing up the loyalty of the population to CC. He alluded to Jailer’s personal commitment to the CSC. And then he gave up on words and hit the nail on the head.

“I’m here to ask you to free Calunga.”

Jailer choked in surprise. He started coughing and couldn’t get a word out of his mouth. He was stunned that such a questionable request came out of the mouth of the City’s moral role model.

With his eyes practically bursting out of their sockets, he sputtered ‘NOOOOO!” still wheezing.

Champion could understand the old man’s dismay.
He was well aware that Jailer felt completely responsible for the security of the Maximum Security Prison, which made it even more awkward for the aging athlete to insist. Yet, he also knew that in the future, the population would not reproach his action, but would laud his audacity for protecting the reputation of the City. Champion rationalized that he was only forced to use Plan B because the Judge himself had not taken the initiative to free me along with all of those birds. He believed that to teach their rivals a lesson, they needed to pull the rug out from under the overconfident feet of those conniving bastards.

“In conclusion,” Champion explained,

“Calunga has already paid for his aggressive reaction to being insulted, which we now realize was an intentional plan to keep him off the field today.”

Along with other arguments, he concluded.

“So, all you need to do is lend me the prisoner until the end of the game.
I’ll bring him back as soon as the match is over.”

Jailer was ready to turn me over, but a final doubt held him back.

“And what happens if the honorable Judge finds out?”

“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Champion assured him.

In no way did Jailer want to jeopardize the team or Champion. He was truly and honestly concerned.

“As everyone knows,” Champion continued, “Judge doesn’t even like soccer. The greatest proof is that even though the population gave him the greatest honor in cutting the ribbon at CSC’s opening ceremony, he has no idea that Calunga is a soccer player, much less that he’s CC’s star.”

“After pondering your argument and considering your final remarks, I have decided to acquiesce. Yet, with all due respect for your perfectly functioning memory, I must still remind you that the prisoner must be escorted back to this institution to complete his sentence as soon as the referee blows the whistle, ending the game.”

Champion listened with his mouth hanging slightly open.
As always, he was amazed by Jailer’s strange manner of speaking.

“One more thing,” Champion added.
“If necessary, I’m ready to assume complete responsibility for this act.
If anyone is to be tried, I’ll be ready to face Judge.”

“That would never happen,” Jailer exclaimed. Therefore, realizing that today we celebrate your birth, I hereby have the immeasurable pleasure of offering in homage, on my word of honor, your freedom of responsibility in my decision to lend my detainee to CC for the duration of the game. Accepting this responsibility is the least I can do. It is a small gift for such a great man.”

At this point, alerted to the passage of time by the ringing bells, their conversation ended.

It was time to act.

In just seconds, Jailer was by my cell. With his hair sticking out every which way, he looked so much like a ghost, that he startled me. I noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing his headphones. He spoke.

“Calunga,” he said, Champion is here. He came to get you, so that you could play for CC in the inauguration game of the CSC I agreed to let you out on one condition.”

“Which condition?” I asked.

That you return to this Maximum Security Prison immediately after the game ends.”

Without waiting for me to answer, he changed the tone of his voice, and continued to speak with great authority.

“Do you hereby promise that you will not attempt to escape?

“I do.”

“Do you promise upon the end of the game to return to this institution to complete your sentence?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise this and that and whatever and wherefore?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise...”

“I do.

“Do you promise...”

“ I do.”

“...?”

“I do.”

“...? “

“I do.”

“Then get on with it. Go.”

Champion put his enormous right arm around my shoulder and pushed me to walk fast. In fact, it was almost game time.

“Move it” “he yelled.

“I practically had to run to keep up with Champion, our loping giant.

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

The Principal

Early one morning, a mother went in to wake up her son.
"Wake up, son. It's time to go to school!"
"But why, Mom? I don't want to go."
"Give me two reasons why you don't want to go."
"Well, the kids hate me for one, and the teachers hate me, too!"
"Oh, that's no reason not to go to school. Come on now and get ready."
"Give me two reasons why I should go to school."
"Well, for one, you're 52 years old. And for another, you're the Principal!"

Teaching Tips & Ideas

TIME ADVERBIALS - Part 1

There are many ways of expressing time by means of adverbials. Some adverbials are preceded by prepositions, others are not. Here are three possibilities:

1 - with prepositions
2 - without prepositions
3 - optional - with or without prepositions

1 - Adverbials of time with the preposition AT

At it is used for: specific point of time
e.g. at half past 10, at midinight, at six o'clock

2 - holiday seasons
e.g. at Easter, at Christmas, at the New Year

3 - familiar fixed events by day and night
e.g. at bed time, at high/low tide, at full moon

newbulletinboard.blogspot.com
hugocaldas.blogspot.com

QUOTE OF THE DAY

MAN'S MISERY OR HAPPINESS IS IN HIS OWN HANDS
(UNKNOWN)

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 11

NEW HEROES
IN TOWN

When a tremendous noise like crashing thunder echoed through the long corridors of the Maximum Security Prison, I shot out of bed. It was the first of the fifteen-cannon-ball salute that signaled the grand opening of the CSC. Immediately afterwards, firecrackers began to
explode all over the City to the toll of church bells of all denominations.

Thank God, I woke up in a better frame of mind than I had gone to sleep. My heart and soul had been cleansed and crazy thoughts swept far away. This must have been the result of my mother’s prayers for protection. She was with me the entire night, running her soft, aging hands through my hair and murmuring comforting words as she taught me a gentle supplication
— “Lord, hear my humble plea. Purify my heart and help me live thy will.” I know it was just a dream, but it seemed incredibly real.

Through the prison bars, I gazed into the sky at the smoke firecrackers’ smoky trail from the festivities. I could only imagine how the City would be celebrating the inauguration of the stadium.

I knew that it would follow the sequence planned by the organizing committee. First would be the cannon salute followed by the fireworks and church bells. After the Orchestra played the City Anthem, would come the parades — students carrying streamers and young athletes with their banners. Allegorical floats would show the story of the CSC with flag bearers waving the City’s arching fish on wind-rippled hues of aqua. Without a doubt, it would be beautiful. Champion, supervising the tiniest of details, would not have it any other way. By this time of day, the City’s marching band must have already reached the bridge where they’d stop to perform. Everyone knew the parade’s itinerary because it had been published in the calendar of events. After crossing the bridge, the parade would cross the public square, circle the CSC, and finally stop at the stadium’s monumental entranceway.

That what had been planned.
And that’s just what happened.

Representing the executive power of the municipal government, Mayor made an official speech. After he finished his discourse, which of course must have been very moving, Padre gave the City’s Sports Center his blessing.

Shortly afterwards, at the stadium, the authorities faced a moment of indecision. No one had specified who would cut the ceremonial ribbon to open the CSC.

Mayor, quickly made a decision and called Champion to join the authorities. He was certainly a fair choice. Champion, however, choosing to stay out of the limelight, thanked Mayor for his considerate invitation, declaring that he preferred for someone of authority to fulfill this duty.

“Why not the Judge?” he suggested.

The crowd showed its approval of the idea by a long round of applause, which made judge turn completely red in confused embarrassment.

To the sound of even stronger applause, with unconcealed nervousness, judge cut the ribbons. The CSC was now officially open, thus beginning a new era of sports in the City.

Champion, in his easygoing, charming manner, had a plan up his sleeve.
By honoring judge, he had hoped to earn my liberty in exchange, so that our team could be complete for the inaugural match. Yet, he knew that the initiative had to come from Judge himself since the magistrate would not tolerate interference in judicial matters. “Perhaps,” Champion thought, “a subtle plan would work.”

With this in mind, Champion had added a surprise attraction to the events calendar. Secretly, he had arranged for caged birds to be set free in what he hoped would be the climax of the opening ceremony. He himself holding up one of the cages approached the judge and called out.

“Set them free, your honor! Free all of the prisoners.”

As the judge opened the cage, others did the same and suddenly the sky was a flight of colors. Birds soared in all directions, quickly content like sparking matches. They seemed inebriated by freedom. Much to Champion’s pleasure, the judge seemed enchanted by the spectacle, and this filled the old athlete’s heart with hope. He took a step forward and hinted again.

“How beautiful liberty is! Your honor, free everyone! Make sure that every single prisoner is free!”

“They already are free,” the judge answered, closing the subject.

The truth was that the judge didn’t care about soccer, and didn’t even know that his only prisoner was on the CC team.

Since this plan didn’t work out, Champion started to worry. If I didn’t play, at best our team would tie. In spite of the other team’s advantage of an extra player, we could count on our goalie, “the wall”. A tie wouldn’t help us at all though. Good sportsmanship would demand that in a tie, the trophy would go to the visiting team, and just to imagine the Loner’s beautiful crystal trophy in the hands of our rivals made Champion seethe. His mind was a jumble of tortured thoughts.

Meanwhile, at the Olympic track and field events, athletes were warming up for competitions. In all there would be seven events: four races and three jumps. Winners would get beautiful acrylic medals in shades of blue, shades of the City Lake.

Right in the first race — a 400-meter obstacle course, a runner enchanted his audience, and people wildly cheered to see him running, jumping obstacles and pulling far ahead of his nearest competitor. Unknown before the race, soon everyone was talking about Silvio.

In his second race — an 800 - meter dash, along with first place,
Silvio won the hearts of the crowd. From that point on, each new medal brought heartier approval from his fans. The high jump was his last competition and with the speed of the wind and lightness of a feather, he entered City sports history, breaking the record previously set by Champion in his youth.

The outburst of applause in the stadium was deafening while everyone celebrated the new record. Fans spontaneously began cheering in unison: Silvio, Silvio, Silvio.

On the left side of the stadium, a gigantic human panel broke into movement. Holding brightly colored signs above their heads, they formed the design of an athlete high jumping a rainbow in the sky.

When the roar of the crowd died down, a committee representative invited the pretty, young woman the group had selected to present all of the 7 medals to the winner, Silvio.

Champion was touched as he took in all of the details. His voice trembled
as he approached the new hero.

“I’m happy that you were able to break my records,” he said, shaking the hand of his successor.

The crowd went wild again praising both the past and the present, and their respective athletes.

At that very moment in the Olympic pools, swimming competitions were being held. Teto surprised everyone by his performance.

Unlike Silvio, who was a brand new face for the public, everyone knew Teto. No one had forgotten that late afternoon when he swam as fast as a fish and ended up discovering the Waterfall. Coincidentally, that was also on a day of celebration — the inauguration of the river, bridge and town square. What the public couldn’t imagine was Teto’s competence in a pool, and that’s why everyone was amazed to see him win prize after prize, taking first place in all events. During the final event, the freestyle, he won by half the length of the pool.

The card section displayed their animated mosaics to the roar of the fans.
Their multicolored cards showed figures of athletes in different events while CC’s prettiest flag bearer hung medallion after medallion on our hero’s neck.

Champion was radiant with the way the inauguration day was going.
He was satisfied with the outcomes so far and hopeful for the rest of the events. Many promising CSC athletes had been revealed during the competitions. Yet, in spite of his good mood, thoughts kept spinning through his mind. He hoped that sooner or later, a solution would emerge from the midst of his confusion.

His first plan hadn’t come close to working, since Judge wasn’t tuned in to the importance of the game, and so, now he’d have to try plan B.

A strange chill went down his spine. It was hard to describe the sensation.
He was nervous, and yet, confident that things would work out. CC would win the game. Distracted by his intuition, Champion hadn’t even noticed that lunch time had come and gone. He glanced at his watch. The match would start at 4:00 in the afternoon. He had just alittle bit over an hour. He’d have to work fast while there was still time.

“God help me,” he said softly and left in a hurry. No one knew where he was headed.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

All great things are simple, and many can be expressed in single words:
Freedom, Justice, Honor, Duty, Mercy, Hope.
Sir Winston Churchill - (1874 - 1965)

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

A drunken man walks into a biker bar, sits down and orders a drink.

Looking around, he sees three men sitting at a corner table. He gets up, staggers to the table, leans over, looks the biggest, meanest, biker in the face and says:

"I went by your grandma's house today and I saw her in the hallway butt naked. Man, she is one fine looking woman!"

The biker looks at him and doesn't say a word. His buddies are confused, because he is one bad biker and would fight at the drop of a hat.

The drunk leans on the table again and says:
"I got it on with your grandma and she is good, the best I ever had!"

The biker's buddies are starting to get really mad but the biker still says nothing.

The drunk leans on the table one more time and says,
"I'll tell you something else, boy, your grandma liked it!"

At this point the biker stands up, takes the drunk by the shoulders looks him square in the eyes and says..

"Grandpa, go home, you're drunk!"

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 10

THOUGHTS OF
REVENGE

I don’t know how I got here, or how they locked me up in this cubicle. I only know that I am alone, detained in the Maximum Security Prison. Yet, although I am isolated from the world, at this moment I am so happy that I could jump up and down. It must seem strange that someone in my situation could feel so euphoric, but I have a good reason. Once again, CC’s aqua banner reigns victorious at the top of the flagpole at the stadium. With a score of 1 x 0, CC conquered the Loner’s Crystal trophy.

In the City, celebrations were exploding all over the place. There is no way to compare my happiness behind bars to what was going on outside. However, for me, my own joy has a supreme value. I almost died of remorse, fearing that my immaturity could cause CC’s defeat. I thank God, that I got lucky and was able to make it up to my team. I paid for my foolishness with the marvelous goal that won us the victory and the trophy.

After the victory, I could see that things had changed. Even Jailer, in his habitual silence, showed compassion for me by bringing me paper and a pencil for my writing. Still, my time in jail seemed like an eternity as I sat in jail not knowing what was going on in the 2nd half of the game at the CSC. I watched Jailer pace as he listened to the game on the radio. As usual, his
poker face hid any of the emotion of the game. I analyzed his features hoping to glean any information whatsoever about the game, and finally by the end, when I had figured out that we won, I breathed more easily.

With the victory, I gained a new life — born like all others with pain and suffering. From the time I had arrived at the Maximum Security Prison, I had been plagued by how my situation tormented Champion. The worst feeling was knowing the risk that CC could lose such an important match. For hours on end, I would imagine how awkward the old athlete must have felt with only 10 of our players facing our enemies. And it was all my fault. I blamed myself for the circumstances under which we fell into the trap of our rivals. It had all been a set up. It was clear now that the stranger had been sent to the City with the mission of provoking a fight with me. I had never been so stupid. I’d been led into a no-win situation where had I not fought back, I would have ended up in the hospital as broken down as the stranger. Because I did fight, I ended up in prison. It was only after Judge announced my sentence that I realized I’d been trapped, and I concluded that sometimes you can stop evil by putting good at risk.

Learning this lesson cost me painful feelings of guilt. From the moment of the sentence, a terrible burden weighed down on me. The feeling came to stay and began to eat away at me and feed my despair. “Why are our acts irreversible?” I wondered. I realized that I hadn’t meant any harm when I lost control, and I wished that I could turn back the clock and change what had happened. But facts are like the waterfall that Teto discovered, once the water falls, it can never go back. If I did have the chance to go back, I would have known how to avoid fighting. Even if he had insulted us with comments a thousand times worse, Pilungo and I would have snuck away calmly, so that our team could be complete on the big game day. We would have gotten back at the stranger with the triumphant spectacle of our victory. I realized that for a moment of worthless rage, I had jeopardized the City.

When I looked back at the situation, I had to admit the stranger was also victorious. He had an objective and he reached it, though his cost was high. Clearly, he loved his hometown. The proof was in the sacrifice that he made: broken teeth and ribs and a smashed nose. Lying in his hospital room, he must have been content in the fact that the people of his town would recognize his efforts.

These thoughts raced through my mind day and night.

They changed within my mind.

They changed me.

At that point, it was no longer guilt that I was feeling. It was hate and an obsession with getting even. Whatever the cost, I would get my revenge.

Carefully, I made my plan. It was nothing extraordinary, nothing particularly special. It was simply this. When my ninth day was over and I was free, I would go to the hospital, find that completely defenseless stranger in casts from head to toe and kill him in his bed. I didn’t care if it would seem cowardly or not. As soon as I did the deed, I would take off for the unknown. No one, not even my mother, who I love more than anyone else in the world, would know where I was; and wherever I ended up, no one would know who I was. At moments like this, a mother’s love isn’t worth much; it was hate that kept me going.

Last night when these ideas were milling through my mind, I didn’t even notice the nightfall. Wrapped cozily in my evil thoughts, I slept.

Teaching Tips & Ideas

LET’S FACE IT! ENGLISH IS A CRAZY LANGUAGE - PART 1

We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes; but the plural of ox became oxen not oxes. One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese, yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice; yet the plural of house is houses, not hice. If the plural of man is always called men, why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I spoke of my foot and show you my feet, and I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth, why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those, yet hat in the plural would never be hose, and the plural of cat is cats, not cose.

We speak of a brother and also of brethren, but though we say mother, we never say methren. Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him, now imagine the feminine, she, shis and shim…!

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time."
Abraham Lincoln

Remarks:
The above quote was sent to this Blog by my grandson Claudio Henrique 15, already a junior teacher. (that's fate)

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Part 2

A REMAKABLE
CONQUEST

"...uma vitória, bem posta e correta, avançando com lentidão e estilo..."

"...a well deserved victory, achieved slowly and with style..."

Eça de Queirós

Chapter 9 - THE CONDEMNATION

During the construction of the CSC, the first area ready was the field.
Thick
Green.
A carpet of hope.

While older men worked raising the bleachers, the younger ones kicked around a ball on the giant field that was emerging. I was one of the regulars and a few times, Champion stopped to join in and check out my moves. He knew the sport well and was always on the lookout
for promising young players.

“What’s your name?”
“Calunga.”
“With a K or a C?” he kidded.
“With a C.
“Great. There’s a place for you on the team then.
I’m serious. This is an invitation. What do you say?”

Without blinking, I said yes.
“So let’s go,” he said.
We went.

At the CC clubhouse, I met my teammates, the coach’s assistant and the masseur. The first to approach me was Pilungo. Judging from his body type, I guessed that he was an offensive player. A strong young man of medium height, he was not your stereotype goalie.
When I saw him play, I was amazed at his skill. He defended against high shots as well as to grounders. As I got to know him, I learned he was someone you could trust. He was innocently friendly and enchanted by life. We became good friends, and from contact with him I learned an
important lesson: that our happiness in life depends on the friendships we make.

The other athletes were also good company to be in. Excellent soccer players, they gave me their complete support and helped me to find my place on the team. Soon I was confident, and in a short time, I was the star center forward. My goals made our fans go wild and, backed by Pilungo’s great defense, guaranteed our victories.

CC’s regime for practice was tough and demanding to the point of exhaustion. We exercised twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays because Champion wanted the team in top physical condition and ready to perform its best at all times. After the physical conditioning and tactical practices, we’d finish each session with a swim in the Lake because, according to Champion, its clean water recuperated our forces and helped to heal any pulled muscles. No one doubted this idea.

Champion’s beliefs about the waters, however, were much deeper. He believed that the water of the Lake had a supernatural, miraculous power. He professed that a swim in the Lake refreshed the mind, washed the soul, and protected people from surrounding dangers.
These were his sincere beliefs, based on true faith, which was no surprise since sincerity and truthfulness were integral parts of his character.
As for me, well I always followed his recommendation and went for the swim after practices, but it was more for my own pleasure than for the healing properties of the water. At first, I didn’t share his beliefs, but with time I changed my mind. I became a true believer after an inexplicable, fatal decision on my part.
After practice one Tuesday, I skipped the protective ritual. I wasn’t questioning Champion’s authority or acting out of disobedience; I simply wanted to get home earlier that day.

“Outta here, Pilungo?” I suggested.
“Sure,” my friend replied.

We left together and headed to the street where we both lived.

On the way home, we both felt the odd sensation of being followed. We noticed a man whose face we’d never seen behind us. At first discreet, he kept quite a distance between us. Later, he sped up approaching us. The farther we got from the center of town, the more deserted the
streets became. He started to provoke us, staring at each from head to toe. Suddenly he started insulting both of us, especially Pilungo.

I yelled for the guy to leave us alone because in the City we liked to respect visitors, even if they didn’t deserve it.

“So, you think that I don’t deserve your respect?” he challenged.

“That’s not it at all,” I added calmly. “You didn’t get my point. You do deserve respect, not only mine, but that of the whole City.

My explanation didn’t satisfy him. He said that it was just a crock and that I was a wimp.
“Looks like I’m the only man in your precious City, and I’m going to beat the hell out of you and this poor excuse of a goalie!” Like a maniac, he jumped on Pilungo and started pounding him.

War had begun.

Basically, we had two choices: to run or to fight. Without thinking, we simply tried to detain the aggressor. I may have exaggerated a little bit, and while trying to hold him down, socked him in the chest hard enough for him to lose his breath, and gave him a capoeira kick that got his mouth and nose. Picking up broomstick like piece of wood from the ground, I finished him off with a couple of smacks on the back. The unlucky bastard fell and fainted. During the fight, I hadn’t stopped to think that I am strong as a tank, nor did I try to control my punches. It was impossible after listening to that stranger insult the City and our people.

People appeared from nowhere, and took him to the emergency room in City Hospital. There, thank God, he was treated and declared out of danger. Completely immobilized in casts, with four broken ribs, a few missing teeth and a broken nose, he would think twice before provoking anybody in the future.

Moments later, I was face to face with Judge.

I told the magistrate exactly what had happened, including all of the details. I didn’t leave anything out. The judge listened to me patiently without interrupting.

When I finished, he began.

During his long discourse, fair words flowed. Judge was humane and just. He spoke of parallels and precedents. On one hand, the facts weighed in my favor. On the other hand, they could lead to my condemnation. On one plate of the scales, he placed my clean past, my good qualities, and my peaceful nature along with the unfair provocation of the stranger and my need for self defense.
On the other plate, he placed the exaggerated violence of my reaction, and quickly it descended against me.

“You used unnecessary violence,” Judge declared. “You could have taken the life of your fellow man. Justice does not desire death of the offender, but hopes for his recuperation and reintegration in society.”
After speaking, he looked through the Penal Code, turning pages and consulting different articles in the thick volume.

The atmosphere became solemnly silent. Expectation weighed on us like lead.

Respectfully, Judge closed his book and began to speak again. This time his words were directed not at me, but at all present. Hesitatingly, his low voice hammered in my mind.

“... and for this reason, in accordance with the Code, the defendant Calunga is condemned to nine days of reclusion. The sentence is to be carried out at the Maximum Security Prison, starting at the time of his arrival.

Upon hearing the sentence, I felt my legs tremble. My hands were pins and needles and my vision faded out.

Teaching Tips & Ideas

USE & WEAR

To Use – Usar, Utilizar
e.g. He uses compasses to describe a circle
She will use nuts to give her cake a better flavor.

To Wear – Usar no corpo, Vestir.
e.g. The so-called “Wash and Wear” garments
are made of a fabric that requires little or no ironing.

I never wear black; I prefer to wear blue or green.

Double Example:

That lad has two handkerchiefs: one that he uses to wipe his nose, the other, he wears in his outer pocket..

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

THE REDNECK AND THE MINISTER

A pompous minister was seated next to a redneck from Texas on a flight across the country. After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken. The redneck asked for a whiskey and soda, which was brought and placed before him. The flight attendant then asked the minister if he would like a drink. He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by brazen whores than let liquor touch these lips." The redneck then handed his drink back to the flight attendant and said, "Shit, me too. I didn't know we had a choice."

QUOTE OF THE DAY

I FEEL BAD FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T DRINK BECAUSE WHEN THEY WAKE UP IN THE MORNING AND GET OUT OF BED... THAT'S THE BEST THEY ARE GONNA FEEL ALL DAY. (Frank Sinatra)

THE CITY OF THE LONER - Chapter 8

CHAMPION

When the Loner and his friends decided to build the City, it never occurred to them that, in the future from the midst of the population would emerge talented leaders capable of turning dreams into reality. A man of great insight, the architect of the City Museum, however, was so confident that he had projected a gallerydestined to the City’s heroes. In this gallery, the largest portrait was that of Champion, sportsman and idol, the pride of the population.

Champion had become a legend in his own time. 6’6” tall, extremely thin, with a trunk too small for his legs and arms awkwardly long, he reminded people of a monkey or spider or swan or preying mantis.

Carrying the burden of his undisclosed age, he maintained his image as an athlete, who had collected medals, conquered trophies and admirers. The City admired him and loved him as a role model. He was an aging hero, whose strength may have left him, but for whom the passion for sports, for all sports lived on.

According to the oldest inhabitants of the City, he was first called Champion during the times he competed in track and field events. He was unbeatable in long jump and running.

An important fact to bring up is that he had never played soccer. Maybe that is why he decided to completely dedicate himself, heart and soul to the game. His wasn’t the typical love of a fan who would cheer from the stands for his team. It was almost a fever that led him to build the stadium and to shake up the pride of the people. He took care of everything.

Even the idea for the club’s flag was his own: a vertical standard the same shade of aqua as the City Lake with two arching fishes in the center forming the letters CC standing for City Club.

Like Champion, other athletes showed up to make the City’s team. All of the men’s nicknames began with C, except for Pilungo, whose shirt number was “1”.
The fans quickly made up a cheer, “Give me a P—Pilungo; Give me a P for El Paredon.” He did in fact defend against goals as if he were a "paredon", a wall.

Two brothers, Central and Captain came to play fullback. They were talented giants that Champion had known for a long time. He’d hoped that they want to play on the CC team.

It wasn’t as easy getting centerfielders set up, but after trying a few alternatives, Champion chose Catuca, Centerhalf, and Cururu, three valuable players.

Looking for the same quality in the offensive, he found his line of attack Caçamba, Caboré, Commander (the captain), Capote and me. I played the left and was an idol for the crystalline legion of fans. I had lost count of the times I saw the stadium tremble while the fans yelled my name.

After a few consecutive victories, our most ardent fans, swore that CC was unbeatable. Some believed that our banner had mystical powers, and they seemed to be right. Since the founding of the club, wherever we played, at home or away, our aqua flag soared proudly overhead
— victorious.

Of the neighboring cities, only one, whose name won’t mention, had a team of our caliber. Obsessed with breaking our record, their players practiced day and night. In spite of their determination, the team was still at a disadvantage, but for they were a real threat. We knew for a fact that their directors were not above bribing referees. We knew that they would stoop to any measures to get what they wanted.

And this was the team that was slated to play against us at the inauguration of the CSC.

I say against “us” from habit. I still consider myself part of CC because it is part of my life. Yet, I wouldn’t have been allowed to play in the inauguration game if not for Champion. If only he could outsmart those low-down dirty club directors and ruined their sleazy plan.

Champion had always been a model of decency and loyalty. For him, one error didn’t justify another, nor did one crime compensate another. In spite of his honorable principles, however, this time he had to fight fire with fire. I knew that CC was already in trouble because our team had only eleven players; there were no reserves. Even worse, I was that missing player and must admit I was the best player: the most feared attacker and the goalies’ nightmare. When it came right down to it, Champion had two choices: come up with a plan or hand our team of ten on a silver platter to our rivals’complete squad.

As I sat in prison, I still hoped for victory. I trusted Champion to overcome difficulties. I had
always admired his ability to face obstacles head on. And this time, the reputation of the City was at stake. My inner voice assured me that Champion would find a way out and lead CC to victory. It wouldn’t be during our inauguration game that our enemies would bring us down. I was completely confident that our extraordinary leader would find light at the end of the tunnel.

And he did.

RULES OF THUMB

Verbo To Be como “TER”

O verbo ter do Português é largamente usado, aparecendo muito em expressões do nosso cotidiano e assumindo freqüentemente um papel idiomático. O verbo to have, que seria seu correspondente em Inglês, tem um uso mais restrito, não aparecendo muito em formas idiomáticas. O verbo to be, por outro lado, cobre em Inglês uma grande área de significado, aparecendo em muitas expressões do dia a dia, de forma semelhante ao verbo ter do Português. Portanto, muitas vezes ter corresponde a to be, conforme os seguintes exemplos:

Quantos anos você tem? - How old are you?
Você tem certeza? - Are you sure?
Você tem razão. - You are right.
Não tenho medo de cachorro. - I'm not afraid of dogs.
O que é que tem de errado? - What's wrong?
Não tive culpa disso. - It wasn't my fault.
Tivemos sorte. - We were lucky.
Tenha cuidado. - Be careful.
Tenho pena deles (sinto por eles). - I'm sorry for them.
Não tenho condições de trabalhar. / Não estou em condições ... - I'm not able to work. / I can't work.
Ela tem vergonha de falar Inglês. - She's too shy to speak English.
Você tem que ter paciência. - You must be patient.
Ele tem facilidade para línguas. / Tem jeito ... - He's good at languages.
Um canteiro de fumo tem 2 metros de largura por 25 de comprimento.
A tobacco seedbed is 2 meters wide and 25 meters long.

LAUGHTER'S THE BEST MEDICINE

“GET AWAY FROM MY DEER!”

It was Saturday morning and Jake, an avid hunter, woke up ready to go bag the first deer of the season. He walks down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and to his surprise he finds his wife, Alice, sitting there, fully dressed in camouflage. Jake asks her, “What are you up to?” Alice smiles, “I'm going hunting with you”. Though he has many reservations, reluctantly, Jake decides to take her along.

They arrive at the hunting site. Jake sets his wife safely up in the tree stand and tells her: “If you see a deer, take careful aim on it and I'll come running back as soon as I hear the shot.” Jake walks away with a smile on his face knowing that Alice couldn't bag an elephant -- much less a deer.

But not 10 minutes pass when he is startled as he hears an array of gunshots. Quickly, Jake starts running back. As Jake gets closer to her stand, he hears Alice screaming, “Get away from my deer!” Confused, Jake races faster towards his screaming wife. And again he hears her yell, “Get away from my deer!” followed by another volley of gunfire.

Now within sight of where he had left his wife, Jake is surprised to see a cowboy, with his hands high in the air. The cowboy, obviously distraught, says, “Okay, lady, okay! You can have your deer! Just let me get my saddle off it!”