Edward Penfield: The Father of the American Poster
The Art Students League (ASL) of New York was founded in 1875, when Penfield was just a child. The school quickly became a prominent site for blooming artists and remains one to this day. By the time Penfield reached his early 20s, he began attending classes, where he studied under the renowned artist, George de Forest Brush, who was known for his Native American art.
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Los Angeles Times
6 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
The Americans With Disabilities Act changed my life. Now my generation needs to fight for it
When the Americans With Disabilities Act was signed into law on this day in July 1990, my parents didn't yet know how much the landmark civil rights law would soon shape my life — and theirs. I was born profoundly deaf, but my parents didn't even know this part yet. I was 6 months old that summer, and hearing screenings for newborns weren't universal medical practice in those days. My parents had brought me home from the hospital thinking I was just like them — that is, hearing, someone who also lived amid sound and speech. But that August, just a few weeks after President George H.W. Bush signed the ADA on the White House's South Lawn, they learned otherwise. My sensory and linguistic world was fundamentally different from theirs. And thus my life would be too. My diagnosis came as a surprise for my parents. At first, they felt like they had no road map to follow. They didn't yet know American Sign Language. They knew nearly nothing about deafness, and they lived in a culture where disability was still too often classified as tragedy. But they jumped into their steep learning curve — and found the ADA waiting for us. Now, 35 years later, I am a member of the 'ADA generation,' which means I know what accessibility can be: an invitation into greater human community, as well as a precious right we must preserve for future generations. This truth is hitting me hard this summer. The ADA and I have come of age together, but modern life — and the future — now look different than I once thought it would. First, the good part: Thanks to the ADA, many more doors have opened to me than my parents could ever have imagined in 1990. From my youngest years, I had access to early intervention services. I had an Individualized Education Program in school, where I was the only deaf student, and I enjoyed learning from my teachers and peers through watching my ASL interpreters. I went to after-school sleepovers with my friends, where we all watched TV with the captions on. My closest friends learned ASL, and as an adult I've felt astonished at how much they still remember. Now they, too, know wider ways to communicate. The ADA has helped me figure out how to belong. Ever since I was a bookish kid, I knew that I wanted to travel, to write, to stay in school as long as I could, to have meaningful conversations with new friends and strangers. I just didn't know how I'd do some of these things — unless I somehow became hearing, too, when I grew up. News flash: I am still not hearing, but because of the power of accessibility, I've continued finding my way. I've lived abroad, completed my doctoral degree, written a book. I live a charmed life, and belonging to the ADA generation is one major reason why. Now the not-so-good part: The ADA is still the law of the land, but these are terrifying times for deaf and disabled people in America. Our lives are under threat in ways I never imagined when I was growing up. Our current president overtly scapegoats disabled people, as we've seen on numerous occasions, from mocking a disabled journalist in 2015 to baselessly blaming people with disabilities for the tragic plane crash in the Potomac River in January. This spring, his administration withdrew 11 pieces of federal accessibility guidelines intended to help businesses comply with the ADA. The budget bill signed on July 4 makes huge cuts to Medicaid, on which many disabled people rely to access healthcare and essential support services. Ongoing federal cuts, including to the Department of Education, threaten everything from special education to antidiscrimination policies for students with disabilities. The examples tumble on. It's time for the ADA generation to step up as we never have before. This means pressing into the legal and legislative fights ahead, calling representatives and engaging in protests. But it also means bringing our native-born knowledge to all our interactions, while pulling in others we know, people like my childhood classmates, who have witnessed the power of inclusion. We can support each other's access needs, even in the most everyday ways. We can speak out about what access has done for us. When I was growing up, I always took the ADA for granted. I thought of it as my birthright, when I thought of it at all. It was only 10 years ago that I began to see otherwise: During the 25th anniversary of the ADA in 2015, I watched the White House celebrations online and saw members of my generation, surrounded by disability activists who had been present for the law's passing. I saw how everyone in that room had their own distinctive ways of being and communicating, from wheelchairs to crutches to braille to ASL. And I also saw how they'd gathered with such vibrancy and joy. At age 25, I'd only just started to identify with the broader disability community, beyond the deaf culture that was much more familiar to me — but I recognized the deep resourcefulness of the people in that room, the communal spirit it takes to build more inclusive worlds. And I wanted everyone else to see it too. As the ADA and I are now 35, I see that we should not only celebrate those past disability activists but also embrace their approaches and bring the same doggedness and ingenuity to a new generation of challenges. We must keep providing care for each other, something that is always a political act in itself. I don't take the ADA for granted anymore. Instead, living in the world that it has made possible, here's what I know: Deaf and disabled Americans already belong. And accessibility already belongs to all of us, especially once we recognize how transformative it can truly be. Rachel Kolb is the author of the forthcoming memoir 'Articulate: A Deaf Memoir of Voice.'
Boston Globe
a day ago
- Boston Globe
From Benjamin Franklin to Pony Express to anthrax: How the US Postal Service shaped a nation
While it now grapples with concerns over its financial viability in the modern era, the agency has had a long and colorful history that helped shape the nation. It has grown from serving the 13 colonies to delivering more mail than any other postal system in the world, reaching nearly 169 million addresses and employing more than 635,000 people. Advertisement A new postal service In those early days, creating an American postal system was a key priority for the nation's founders, who needed to communicate with the Continental Army and the colonies. When the Continental Congress met in 1775, it appointed Franklin as the first postmaster because he had served in the British postal service for North America. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up The early postal system also became crucial to unifying the diverse, fragmented colonies into a nation by spreading ideas of liberty and independence through letters, newspapers and pamphlets. 'People were reading, getting ideas of what it would be like to be an independent country,' Kochersperger said. Westward expansion When the U.S. Constitution was ratified, Congress was granted power to establish post offices and mail routes that were first used by mail carriers on horseback and later upgraded for stagecoaches. Some evolved into highways still used today. Advertisement Initially running north–south along the East Coast, post roads later extended westward. Historians have said this aided settler expansion into Native lands and was intertwined with the displacement of tribes. As western migration accelerated, mail was sent by ship from New York to Central America and on to California. Delivery typically took two to three months. The Pony Express, operated by private carriers, was started to speed things up. A relay system of riders on horseback carried mail from California to Missouri, the furthest westward railroad stop. The 1,800-mile (2,900-kilometer) journey took 10 days. While legendary, it only lasted about 18 months, until Oct. 26, 1861. The service was scuttled by the Civil War and made obsolete with the advent of the telegraph, said Daniel Piazza, chief curator of philately at the Smithsonian National Postal Museum. Later, the transcontinental railroad reduced mail delivery from months to days. New types of delivery Free mail delivery to homes began in earnest in 1863 in the nation's largest cities. It was initially created as a response to grief during the Civil War. At the time, the only communication from a father, brother, husband or son usually came through letter-writing. Women lined up daily at post offices, awaiting word. They sometimes got their own letters back, with a note saying their loved one had been killed. Postal officials in Cleveland decided to take mail to people's homes out of compassion. Enthusiasm for home delivery spread quickly, and people living in rural areas wanted it, too. Despite logistical challenges, rural free delivery began expanding rapidly around 1900. By the 1920s, mail carriers mostly had replaced horse-drawn wagons with automobiles. Advertisement Around that time, mail started being sent by airplane as well. The nation's first regularly scheduled airmail service began on May 15, 1918. The initial routes were between Washington, D.C., Philadelphia and New York, using Army pilots and planes. The post office soon took over air mail, running operations for nine years until turning to fledgling private airline companies, some of which remain major airlines. In the early days, flights were so dangerous that some pilots dubbed themselves the Suicide Club. Thirty-two pilots were killed. Major changes to the system The postal service saw major growth during President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's time in office. His New Deal plan to address the Great Depression put people to work building 2,000 new post offices. After World War II, a booming economy and growing population led to a surge in mail. To handle the increasing volume, the post office needed a faster alternative to manual sorting. So, on July 1, 1963, each post office was given a five-digit ZIP code. Previously, clerks had to memorize thousands of points of address information so they could sort the mail, Kochersperger said. The public was skeptical at first, balking at more numbers. So, the post office came up with a friendly cartoon character named Mr. ZIP, who helped convince people their mail would arrive faster. By 1970, postal workers were angry over low wages and a strike was called by leaders of the National Association of Letter Carriers union in New York. Eventually about 200,000 workers joined the postal stoppage, which led to the Postal Reorganization Act of 1970. It authorized collective bargaining rights for postal workers and transformed the taxpayer-supported Post Office Department into the United States Postal Service, a financially self-sustaining and independent agency within the executive branch. Advertisement In more recent times, U.S. Postal Service workers have faced various threats, including anthrax, a serious infectious bacterial disease. Weeks after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, four threatening letters contaminated with anthrax were sent through the mail. Two workers at a mail distribution center in Washington, D.C. died after breathing in the spores, and thousands were potentially exposed. Three other people were killed, and more than a dozen were sickened. The anthrax scare led to major changes in how mail was monitored and sorted and how USPS workers protected themselves. Years later, they'd be designated essential workers during the COVID-19 pandemic and don protective gear again. Haigh reported from Hartford, Conn.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
$480K awarded to support Indigenous education, cultural programs in Michigan
A statewide effort to elevate Native American history and culture is awarding nearly half a million dollars in grant funding to 11 communities across Michigan, including Albion. The Native American Heritage Fund Board has announced the recipients of its 2025 grant cycle, supporting projects that include culturally centered education, community events and the removal of offensive mascots, according to a community announcement. Grants were approved June 20 and total $479,320, funding initiatives at schools, colleges and educational organizations across the state. Support for cultural education and rebranding 'Since its inception, the Native American Heritage Fund has been a catalyst for positive change in Michigan communities,' said NAHF Chairperson Dorie Rios, who also serves as Tribal Council Chairperson for the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi, in the announcement. 'These grants help restore accurate representation, uplift Indigenous voices and build stronger bridges between Tribes and local communities,' Rios said. NAHF prioritizes engagement between schools and Tribes during rebranding efforts, encouraging collaboration that reflects cultural respect and understanding. 2025 NAHF grant recipients Albion College – $65,000 for a culturally appropriate exhibit at the Whitehouse Nature Center. Chippewa Hills School District – $127,267.86 to replace the 'Warrior' mascot with 'Golden Knight' branding. East Jordan Public Schools – $16,239 for cultural immersion events with Little Traverse Bay Bands of Odawa Indians and the Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians. East Lansing Public Schools – $4,125 for third-grade cultural history lessons with the Nokomis Cultural Heritage Center. Eastern Upper Peninsula ISD – $86,055.75 for professional development on Anishinaabe youth support. Grand Ledge Public Schools – $5,250 for expanded third-grade Anishinaabe history lessons. Okemos Public Schools – $6,750 to grow their third-grade Native history curriculum. Portland Public Schools – $2,750 for classroom history instruction on Anishinaabe culture. Public Schools of Petoskey – $22,140 to replace uniforms featuring outdated mascot imagery. Traverse City Area Public Schools – $129,000 for Native language instruction and curriculum support. Western Michigan University – $14,742 to launch an Elders-in-Residence program connecting students and Indigenous Elders. Grant award ceremony date, location A public grant award ceremony is scheduled for Sept. 19 at FireKeepers Casino Hotel following the NAHF Board Meeting at 11 a.m. The Native American Heritage Fund was established through a 2016 compact between the State of Michigan and the Nottawaseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi, and supports K-12 schools, higher education and local governments in fostering inclusive learning environments and respectful representation. For more information and past recipients, visit NAHF Board of Directors: Chairperson: Dorie Rios, NHBP Tribal Council Chairperson Vice Chairperson: Melissa Kiesewetter, Tribal Liaison, State of Michigan Secretary: Elizabeth Kinnart, Citizen of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians Treasurer: Robyn Elkins, NHBP Tribal Council Vice Chairperson Board Member: Kimberly McClellan, Grand Traverse Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians This story was created by David DeMille, ddemille@ with the assistance of Artificial Intelligence (AI). Journalists were involved in every step of the information gathering, review, editing and publishing process. Learn more at This article originally appeared on Battle Creek Enquirer: Grants Support native culture, mascot changes across Michigan Solve the daily Crossword
