social interest

When 20,000 Americans Held a Pro-Nazi Rally in Madison Square Garden in 1939 – Now It’s Happening Again…

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Information Produced and Presented By Organizations Other Than Groff Media 2024


Above, two-time Academy Award nominee Marshall Curry presents A Night at The Garden, a film that revisits a night in February 1939 when “20,000 Americans rallied in New York’s Madison Square Garden to celebrate the rise of Nazism — an event largely forgotten from U.S. history.” As we described it back in 2017, the film documents the following scene:

What you’re looking at is the 1939 “Pro-American Rally” (aka Pro-Nazi Rally) sponsored by the German American Bund at Madison Square Garden on George Washington’s 207th Birthday. Banners emblazoned with such slogans as “Stop Jewish Domination of Christian Americans,” “Wake Up America. Smash Jewish Communism,” and “1,000,000 Bund Members by 1940” decorated the great hall.

New York City Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia—an Episcopalian with a Jewish mother—considered canceling the event, but ultimately he, along with the American Jewish Committee and the American Civil Liberties Committee decreed that the Bund was exercising its right to free speech and free assembly.

A crowd of 20,000 filled the famous sports venue in mid-town Manhattan to capacity. 1,500 police officers were present to render the Garden “a fortress impregnable to anti-Nazis.” An estimated 100,000 counter-demonstrators were gathering outside.…

The most disturbing moment in the short film comes at the 3:50 mark, when another security force—the Bund’s Ordnungsdienst or “Order Service” pile on Isidore Greenbaum, a 26-year-old Jewish worker who rushed the podium where bundesführer Fritz Julius Kuhn was fanning the flames of hatred. Valentine’s men eventually pulled them off, just barely managing to save the “anti-Nazi” from the vicious beating he was undergoing.

Made entirely from archival footage filmed that night, A Night at The Garden “transports audiences to this chilling gathering and shines a light on the power of demagoguery and anti-Semitism in the United States.” You can learn more about the film and the 1939 rally at Marshall Curry’s web site.

Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or other xenophobic rallies being held this weekend in Madison Square Garden is purely coincidental, of course.

Related Content 

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Fascism!: The US Army Publishes a Pamphlet in 1945 Explaining How to Spot Fascism at Home and Abroad

MAGA Is Not The First To Attempt And Bring Down America. A Populist Movement Nearly Destroyed American Democracy Over 110 Years Ago, But Our Democracy Prevailed

Over a century ago, the United States grappled with a political movement that closely resembled today’s MAGA (Make America Great Again) movement, a populist uprising spearheaded by former President Donald Trump. Like MAGA, this earlier movement thrived on populist discontent, nativist sentiments, and rejection of the established order. If not kept in check, it could have reshaped American democracy in ways that might have undermined its democratic institutions, a peril we must remain vigilant against.

One of the most significant instances was during Theodore Roosevelt’s presidency, a man with intricate political loyalties. In 1912, Roosevelt’s Bull Moose Party brought populist elements into the political mainstream, appealing to working-class voters who felt marginalized by the two major parties. While Roosevelt was not anti-democratic, his charismatic leadership style and his ability to rally crowds around a strongman image set a precedent for future political movements that would seek to undermine democratic norms.

Simultaneously, the rise of the “America First” movement and the Ku Klux Klan spanning the 1920s showed how easily populist rhetoric could veer into exclusionary nationalism and nativism. The Klan’s widespread influence reached local, state, and federal government levels, promoting an agenda that sought to disenfranchise non-white citizens, immigrants, and anyone considered “un-American.” This movement found an audience among rural and working-class Americans who felt left behind by the rapid industrialization and modernization of the country.

At the heart of these movements was a profound distrust of the government, elites, and institutions—just like the anti-establishment fervor that fueled the rise of MAGA. These movements aimed to “restore” a vision of America rooted in racial and social hierarchies, often using violent rhetoric and intimidation to achieve their goals. Had these populist forces gained more traction, they could have severely damaged the democratic foundation of the country, ushering in a more authoritarian regime.

It took concerted efforts from citizens and political leaders to resist these dangerous movements and restore democratic norms. In some ways, the lessons from over a century ago echo loudly today: unchecked populism, especially when it flirts with nativism and authoritarianism, can bring democracy to the brink of collapse. However, this history also reminds us of our power to shape the future of our democracy, offering hope and inspiration for positive change.

Today, as MAGA remains a force in American politics, it is crucial to remember that the battle to preserve democracy requires vigilance. While populism can express legitimate grievances of people who feel left behind, it must not be allowed to erode the institutions enabling democracy to function. History teaches us that democracy’s survival depends on our ability to balance widespread anger with reasoned leadership and respect for the rule of law. We all have a role to play in this ongoing struggle, and our vigilance is required to maintain a true Republic of the People!

A Letter From An American Adresses Fascism – First Alerting American troops To Avoid It In 1943! Today Americans Are Voting For It!

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Today’s Voice Is By Heather Cox Richardson Posted By: Benjamin Groff II© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

You can read more by Heather Cox Richardson Letter’s From An American here.

Beginning in 1943, the War Department published a series of pamphlets for U.S. Army personnel in the European theater of World War II. Titled Army Talks, the series was designed “to help [the personnel] become better-informed men and women and therefore better soldiers.”

On March 24, 1945, the topic for the week was “FASCISM!” 

“You are away from home, separated from your families, no longer at a civilian job or at school and many of you are risking your very lives,” the pamphlet explained, “because of a thing called fascism.” But, the publication asked, what is fascism? “Fascism is not the easiest thing to identify and analyze,” it said, “nor, once in power, is it easy to destroy. It is important for our future and that of the world that as many of us as possible understand the causes and practices of fascism, in order to combat it.”

Fascism, the U.S. government document explained, –––

“is government by the few and for the few. The objective is seizure and control of the economic, political, social, and cultural life of the state.” “The people run democratic governments, but fascist governments run the people.” 

“The basic principles of democracy stand in the way of their desires; hence—democracy must go! Anyone who is not a member of their inner gang has to do what he’s told. They permit no civil liberties, no equality before the law.” “Fascism treats women as mere breeders. ‘Children, kitchen, and the church,’ was the Nazi slogan for women,” ––– the pamphlet said. 

Fascists “make their own rules and change them when they choose…. They maintain themselves in power by use of force combined with propaganda based on primitive ideas of ‘blood’ and ‘race,’ by skillful manipulation of fear and hate, and by false promise of security. The propaganda glorifies war and insists it is smart and ‘realistic’ to be pitiless and violent.” 

Fascists understood that “the fundamental principle of democracy—faith in the common sense of the common people—was the direct opposite of the fascist principle of rule by the elite few,” it explained, “[s]o they fought democracy…. They played political, religious, social, and economic groups against each other and seized power while these groups struggled.”  

Americans should not be fooled into thinking that fascism could not come to America, the pamphlet warned; after all, “[w]e once laughed Hitler off as a harmless little clown with a funny mustache.” And indeed, the U.S. had experienced “sorry instances of mob sadism, lynchings, vigilantism, terror, and suppression of civil liberties. We have had our hooded gangs, Black Legions, Silver Shirts, and racial and religious bigots. All of them, in the name of Americanism, have used undemocratic methods and doctrines which…can be properly identified as ‘fascist.’”

The War Department thought it was important for Americans to understand the tactics fascists would use to take power in the United States. They would try to gain power “under the guise of ‘super-patriotism’ and ‘super-Americanism.’” And they would use three techniques: 

First, they would pit religious, racial, and economic groups against one another to break down national unity. Part of that effort to divide and conquer would be a “well-planned ‘hate campaign’ against minority races, religions, and other groups.”

Second, they would deny any need for international cooperation, because that would fly in the face of their insistence that their supporters were better than everyone else. “In place of international cooperation, the fascists seek to substitute a perverted sort of ultra-nationalism which tells their people that they are the only people in the world who count. With this goes hatred and suspicion toward the people of all other nations.” 

Third, fascists would insist that “the world has but two choices—either fascism or communism, and they label as ‘communists’ everyone who refuses to support them.”

It is “vitally important” to learn to spot native fascists, the government said, “even though they adopt names and slogans with popular appeal, drape themselves with the American flag, and attempt to carry out their program in the name of the democracy they are trying to destroy.” 

The only way to stop the rise of fascism in the United States, the document said, “is by making our democracy work and by actively cooperating to preserve world peace and security.” In the midst of the insecurity of the modern world, the hatred at the root of fascism “fulfills a triple mission.” By dividing people, it weakens democracy. “By getting men to hate rather than to think,” it prevents them “from seeking the real cause and a democratic solution to the problem.” By falsely promising prosperity, it lures people to embrace its security.

 “Fascism thrives on indifference and ignorance,” it warned. Freedom requires “being alert and on guard against the infringement not only of our own freedom but the freedom of every American. If we permit discrimination, prejudice, or hate to rob anyone of his democratic rights, our own freedom and all democracy is threatened.” 

— Read more from Heather Cox Richardson by clicking here!

Notes:

https://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/serial?id=armytalks

War Department, “Army Talk 64: FASCISM!” March 24, 1945, at https://archive.org/details/ArmyTalkOrientationFactSheet64-Fascism/mode/2up

MAGA Is Not The First To Attempt And Bring Down America. A Populist Movement Nearly Destroyed American Democracy Over 110 Years Ago

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

Over a century ago, the United States grappled with a political movement that bears striking similarities to today’s MAGA (Make America Great Again) movement, a populist uprising spearheaded by former President Donald Trump. Like MAGA, this earlier movement thrived on populist discontent, nativist sentiments, and a rejection of the established order. If not kept in check, it could have reshaped American democracy in ways that might have undermined its democratic institutions, a peril we must remain vigilant against.

One of the most significant instances of this was during Theodore Roosevelt’s presidency, a man with intricate political loyalties. In 1912, Roosevelt’s Bull Moose Party brought populist elements into the political mainstream, appealing to working-class voters who felt marginalized by the two major parties. While Roosevelt was not anti-democratic, his charismatic leadership style and his ability to rally crowds around a strongman image set a precedent for future political movements that would seek to undermine democratic norms.

Simultaneously, the rise of the “America First” movement and the Ku Klux Klan spanning the 1920s showed how easily populist rhetoric could veer into exclusionary nationalism and nativism. The Klan’s widespread influence reached local, state, and federal government levels, promoting an agenda that sought to disenfranchise non-white citizens, immigrants, and anyone considered “un-American.” This movement found an audience among rural and working-class Americans who felt left behind by the rapid industrialization and modernization of the country.

At the heart of these movements was a profound distrust of the government, elites, and institutions—just like the anti-establishment fervor that fueled the rise of MAGA. These movements aimed to “restore” a vision of America rooted in racial and social hierarchies, often using violent rhetoric and intimidation to achieve their goals. Had these populist forces gained more traction, they could have severely damaged the democratic foundation of the country, ushering in a more authoritarian regime.

It took concerted efforts from both citizens and political leaders to resist these dangerous movements and restore democratic norms. In some ways, the lessons from over a century ago echo loudly today: unchecked populism, especially when it flirts with nativism and authoritarianism, can bring democracy to the brink of collapse. However, this history also reminds us of our power to shape the future of our democracy, offering hope and inspiration for positive change.

Today, as MAGA remains a force in American politics, it is crucial to remember that the battle to preserve democracy requires vigilance. While populism can express legitimate grievances of people who feel left behind, it must not be allowed to erode the very institutions that allow democracy to function. History teaches us that democracy’s survival depends on our collective ability to balance popular anger with reasoned leadership and respect for the rule of law. We all have a role to play in this ongoing struggle, and it is our vigilance that will keep democracy alive.

You can also find a more information concerning this subject at Salon.com click here.

The Impact of Leadership on American Democracy

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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

As we approach the upcoming elections, it’s crucial to remember that Americans are empowered to shape the nation’s trajectory every four years through their votes. When exercised responsibly and carefully reflecting on our past and present, this powerful right allows us to make decisions that align with our shared values and hopes for the future. Informed voting is not just a privilege—it’s a responsibility that enables us to build a future reflective of our ideals.

It’s sometimes helpful to step back and gain perspective to understand the present. Our current situation may seem overwhelming, but history often shows us that our challenges are more complex than we remember. Reflecting on past leadership and decisions not only reassures us but also guides us toward a more thoughtful approach to what lies ahead, providing a sense of reassurance and guidance.

Under the Trump administration, America experienced a turbulent period domestically and internationally. Families traveling abroad faced significant challenges, particularly when trying to return to the U.S. Students awaiting critical funding for their education found themselves in bureaucratic limbo. The economy saw dramatic fluctuations, with the stock market swinging between highs and lows and housing prices manipulated to benefit the wealthy. Trump’s philosophy favored personal gain over the nation’s welfare, leaving many Americans to navigate an unstable economy.

Trump’s handling of the COVID-19 pandemic was a defining moment of his presidency, marked by widespread criticism. His dismissive attitude toward the virus allowed it to sweep across the country unchecked, leading to hundreds of thousands of preventable deaths. He offered unscientific remedies, such as suggesting the use of disinfectants and promoting unproven drugs, and downplayed the severity of the crisis, causing further confusion and panic. His response to local disasters, for instance, his visit to Puerto Rico, where he threw paper towels into the crowd, reflected a troubling lack of empathy and leadership.

Moreover, during his presidency, Trump distanced himself from the traditions of decency and respect that past leaders upheld. He neglected to offer condolences to families of prominent Americans who passed, such as Barbara and George Bush, choosing instead to focus on personal leisure like golfing. Trump’s lack of emotional support marked a stark departure from the dignified conduct expected of a sitting president.

Domestically, Trump’s immigration policies, which included strict border controls and deportation of undocumented immigrants, led to labor shortages, particularly in the service industry, where businesses struggled to find staff. His administration’s aggressive stance on immigration had unintended consequences, with many sectors unable to recover after being stripped of their workforce.

On the international stage, Trump’s cozy relationships with authoritarian leaders in North Korea and Russia raised alarms about national security. His handling of classified information, especially the top-secret documents stored at Mar-a-Lago, left Americans wondering what was compromised and who had access to it.

By contrast, the Biden administration has worked tirelessly to restore stability and dignity to the president’s office. Under Biden’s leadership, the economy has rebounded, and significant investments have been made in infrastructure, including road repairs, bridge replacements, and expanded internet access. His administration, though not without flaws, has prioritized the well-being of the American people, bringing a sense of civility and optimism back to the White House, highlighting the profound impact of leadership on democracy.

While sometimes criticized for being cautious, Biden’s approach to governance is rooted in diplomacy and careful planning. He brought America back to a position of respect globally, fostering relationships with allies and upholding democratic values. As Vice President, Kamala Harris has quietly supported these efforts, often working behind the scenes but prepared to step into leadership if needed.

While no administration is perfect, it’s essential to recognize the progress made under Biden, especially compared to the chaos that marked Trump’s time in office. Biden inherited a nation with a 12% unemployment rate and shuttered businesses. Yet, within a year, he and Harris turned things around, rebuilding a country on the brink of collapse.

As we move forward, it’s critical to remember where we came from and who has been steering

Take A Ride With Kamala on Air Force 1 – Ridin’ With Biden! Click on Image above!

Providing Pivotal Role For Family Members In Runup To Election Day! How Family Matters…

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A Report By: Benjamin Groff II© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

During the run-up to any election, families play a pivotal role in supporting and understanding one another. This period, filled with political debates, media coverage, and public discourse, can stir emotions and create an intensely charged atmosphere. The emotional toll of election season can affect even the most resilient individuals, making the support of one’s family crucial and invaluable. Families are the core unit, providing a comforting and reassuring presence. It is essential that the role model (be it a father, older sibling, uncle, or aunt,) when possible, show support, care, and empathy. Doing so should be cultivated, and providing emotional backing and physical presence can help members navigate the turmoil of an upcoming election.

Election seasons amplify the daily stressors people face. Whether it is work pressure, financial struggles, or personal challenges, these become compounded by the uncertainty of political outcomes. Each family member may carry their political convictions, hopes, and anxieties, and these can sometimes clash with those of others. This emotional burden often deepens as people speculate about the possible outcomes—who they hope will win, who they fear will lose, and how the results will shape their future. The thought of losing an election can become so overwhelming that it leads to despair, disappointment, or even anger. For some, this emotional strain can develop into mental health issues, making it vital for families to remain vigilant about one another’s well-being during this time and to seek professional help if needed.

In the most extreme cases, the stress associated with an election’s outcome can drive individuals to become a threat to themselves or others. This is especially true when political messaging often stokes fear, resentment, and division. Individuals who place too much faith in a particular candidate or political party may feel personally attacked when that candidate loses. The sense of loss may not just be political; it can be internalized as a personal failure, leaving individuals feeling disillusioned or even desperate. Families must observe signs of distress, such as prolonged periods of sadness or withdrawal, recognize potential harmful behavior, like verbal or physical aggression, and intervene when necessary. It is crucial to remain proactive, offering emotional support and, if needed, involving professionals or authorities to prevent escalation.

The role of misinformation and campaigns lies in discussing election-induced emotional volatility. Many political campaigns thrive on pushing false narratives, spreading misleading information to sway voters. Misinformation, which includes false or inaccurate information that is spread deliberately to deceive, can reinforce individuals’ beliefs to dangerous levels. The spread of misinformation fuels emotional intensity and gives people a sense of justification for actions that, under normal circumstances, would seem unreasonable or extreme. When individuals have been repeatedly exposed to incorrect information, their convictions can become so ingrained that they believe their behavior—whether confrontation, violence, or drastic action—is justified.

In such situations, the line between reason and irrationality blurs. What may begin as passionate support for a candidate can spiral into dangerous behavior if an individual believes they are defending a “truth” that is, in fact, built on lies. This is why it is imperative for families to communicate openly about politics, encouraging fact-checking and critical thinking. Recognizing when a loved one’s emotional engagement has become unhealthy is not just crucial, but empowering. In these moments, reporting potentially dangerous behavior to the appropriate authorities is not an act of betrayal but one of care and protection for the individual and others around them, reinforcing the sense of responsibility and control within the family.

As elections approach, the pressure intensifies, with it, the emotional strain on families. However, families can also be a force for positive change, weathering the storm of political tension together by staying connected, offering support, and observing each other’s mental health. It is essential to create a space where emotions can be expressed freely but responsibly and where misinformation is challenged rather than accepted at face value. In doing so, families not only protect one another but also contribute to a more balanced and less volatile society during the electoral process, fostering a sense of hope and optimism for a brighter future.

Caring for Aging Parents: Fears, Responsibilities, and Reflections

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A Story By Benjamin Groff© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures

Fear of Your Parents’ Old Age

As my mother turned 94 in August 2024, my sister and I took turns caring for her and took time out to celebrate her milestone. I also cared for my mother-in-law until her death in her last years of life in our home and have experienced caring for a parent in their senior and final years. I came across an article that discussed the fears of some individuals in dealing with aging parents. I prepared remarks from it as memory serves and through internet searches on topics debating the subject.

“There is a break in the family history, where the ages accumulate and overlap, and the natural order makes no sense: it’s when the child becomes the parent of their parent.”

It’s when the father grows older and begins to move as if he were walking through fog. Slowly, slowly, imprecisely. It’s when one of the parents who once held your hand firmly when you were little no longer wants to be alone.

I remember when my mother asked me to help her down the stairs. It was a subtle, almost casual request, but its weight sank deep into my chest. She had always been so independent and capable. And yet, there she was, reaching out to me for balance, her hand trembling slightly in mine. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter that neither of us was ready for.

It’s when the father, once strong and unbeatable, weakens and takes two breaths before rising from his seat. My friend Lucy spoke of her father, a man who had always been larger than life, now struggling to remember where he left his glasses. “He used to be so sharp,” she said, her voice thick with the unspoken grief of seeing the man who once seemed invincible begin to fade. 

“Now, it’s like watching a candle burn down.”

It’s when the father, who once commanded and ordered, now only sighs, groans, and searches for the door and window—every hallway now feels distant. And we, as their children, will do nothing but accept that we are responsible for that life.

The life that gave birth to us depends on our life to die in peace. Every child is the parent of their parent’s death. 

Perhaps a father or mother’s old age is, curiously, the final pregnancy—our last lesson—an opportunity to return the care and love they gave us for decades. This sense of duty, though heavy, is a testament to the respect and acknowledgment we have for our parents.

And just as we adapted our homes to care for our babies, blocking power outlets and setting up playpens, we will now rearrange the furniture for our parents. 

The first transformation happens in the bathroom. We will be the parents of our parents, the ones who now install a grab bar in the shower. The grab bar is emblematic and symbolic. 

It inaugurates the “unsteadiness of the waters.” Because the shower, simple and refreshing, now becomes a storm for the old feet of our protectors. We cannot leave them for even a moment.

I once spoke to Sarah, who had installed those grab bars in her mother’s bathroom.

“She used to laugh at the idea of needing help,”

Sarah said, a faint smile on her lips.

“Now, she clings to that bar like a lifeline. And I stand outside the door, listening, ready to rush in if she calls. I never thought I’d have to do that for her.”

The tension in Sarah’s voice was palpable—the love and the frustration, the fear of what was coming, and the bittersweet comfort of being there for her mother.

The home of someone who cares for their parents will have grab bars along the walls. And our arms will extend in the form of railings. Aging is walking while holding onto objects; aging is even climbing stairs without steps. We will be strangers in our own homes. We will observe every detail with fear, unfamiliarity, doubt, and concern.

We will be architects, designers, frustrated engineers. 

How did we not foresee that our parents would get sick and need us? We will regret the sofas, the statues, the spiral staircase, all the obstacles, and the carpet.

But amid this frustration, there are moments of unexpected connection. 

One evening, while helping my father navigate his way to bed, he looked at me with a softness I hadn’t seen before. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he whispered. You were always the one I could count on.”

At that moment, the roles reversed entirely—no longer just my father, he was now also my child, someone who needed and trusted me. The sweetness of that connection, of being needed in that way, mingled with the deep sadness of seeing him so diminished. 

These moments of connection, however brief, are a source of hope and upliftment amid the challenges of caring for aging parents.

Happy is the child who becomes the parent of their parent before their death, and unfortunate is the child who only appears at the funeral and doesn’t say goodbye a little each day. Being present for our parents in their final years is a duty and a privilege. It’s a chance to repay the love and care they’ve given us and to create lasting memories.

My friend Joseph Klein accompanied his father until his final moments. In the hospital, the nurse was maneuvering to move him from the bed to the stretcher and trying to change the sheets when Joe shouted from his seat:    

“Let me help you.”

He gathered his strength and, for the first time, took his father into his arms, placing his father’s face against his chest.

He cradled his father, consumed by cancer: small, wrinkled, fragile, trembling. He held him for a long time, the time equivalent to his childhood, the time comparable to his adolescence, a long time, an endless time.

By Your Side, Nothing Hurts. He was rocking his father back and forth and caressing his father. Calming his father. And he said softly:

“I’m here, I’m here, Dad!”

At the end of his life, a father wants to hear that his child is there.

There is an inevitable grief in watching our parents age, but also a strange sense of fulfillment in being there for them as they were for us. It is a role we never asked for, yet one we take on with reluctance and a fierce sense of duty. Despite the challenges, there is a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that we are doing everything possible to make our parents’ final years comfortable and dignified. 

The road is difficult, filled with moments of frustration and exhaustion, but also with love and tenderness—those fleeting instances when the gap between child and parent narrows, and we are simply there for each other, as we always have been.

Some parts of this story have been adapted from an original tale of unknown origin.

Me And My Dads Long Walk Home

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A True Story By Benjamin Groff© Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures

Saturday nights were a ritual for my dad and me. From the time I started school—maybe even before that—every weekend, we’d find ourselves at horse auctions in nearby cities. It was our thing, a bond that felt like a gift wrapped in the familiar scent of hay, the distant sound of auctioneers’ rapid chants, and the sight of the starry night sky as we drove back home.

One particular Saturday night, a local car dealer trying to sell my dad a truck sparked the beginning of this story. My dad, a barber in a small town of about 750 souls, knew a Chevrolet dealer down the street from his shop. The dealer walked in one day, convincing him – he needed to trade his pickup for a newer model. The offer was tempting—my dad could take the truck for the weekend, drive it Saturday night and Sunday, and bring it back on Monday if he decided to make the trade. My dad, a seasoned horse trader who loved a good deal, took the bait.


As Saturday evening approached, I was all set for the auction when my dad arrived in a pickup truck I’d never seen before. “I’ll explain on the way,” he said, inviting me to join him. At nine, we had already faced a few life-altering events together. We had a bond built on trust and shared experiences, even when they led us down rough roads. This bond, forged through our shared love for horse auctions and our mutual trust, was something I cherished deeply.


The drive to the auction was about 45 minutes. The city was only 30 miles away, but this was 1972—speed limits were lower, and the highways were narrower. We took our time, even pulling over on a dirt road for a quick bladder relief break, which was as much a part of our trips as the auctions themselves.


The truck didn’t impress me much. It wasn’t flashy or powerful, and I was surprised my dad had even considered it. But he was a horse trader through and through, always on the lookout for a good deal, and I never questioned his judgment.


The truck did its job—climbing hills, passing cars, and stopping without much fuss. It got us to the auction barn, where we parked and settled in for the night. The auction barn was a lively place, filled with the sounds of horses, the chatter of traders, and the occasional shout of an auctioneer.

The auction lasted until nearly 1:00 AM, but that was nothing new for us. If it had gone on until sunrise, I would have been wide awake beside him. My dad was the envy of every father in that barn, with his young son at his side, fully immersed in horse-trading.


Finally, we made our way out to the parking lot. The truck, waiting for us like a tired old dog, started—barely. It was as if it was protesting the idea of working on a Sunday. We headed back home, north on US Highway 281, moving into the night and now with the town of Gracemont behind us.


Our adventure took an unexpected turn when the truck’s engine stopped 6 miles north of Gracemont. It didn’t sputter or struggle—it just stopped like someone had flipped a switch. My dad, a former service station owner and a man who knew his way around an engine, tried everything to revive it. But the truck had given up, and it was now 1:45 AM.


Stranded on a deserted highway without signs of life, we began walking. We knocked on doors, and my dad stood in the road, instructing me to run if I heard dogs or gunshots. But no one responded. Four houses later, and we’re still waiting.


By now, it was 4:30 AM, and we’d been walking for what felt like forever. Somehow, we covered nearly twenty miles, returning to our farm southeast of Lookeba, Oklahoma. The only break we got was from two teenage boys out drinking beer and driving dirt roads in a Mach1 Mustang. They gave us a lift for the last mile and a half, a sight to behold—my dad, an old cowboy, crammed into the backseat with a couple of rowdy teens and his nine-year-old son.


When we finally entered the house, my mother was asleep on the sofa, a table lamp casting a warm glow in the dim room.


My dad gently nudged her and whispered, –––

“Marge, we’re home.” She said, “Okay, we should all go to bed.”

 A Blinding Prank That Wasn’t FoolProof

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A Story By Benjamin H Groff© Groff Media Copyright 2024©

In the small town of Havenbrook, two blind men, Al and Bert, were renowned for their cunning and mischievous antics. Despite their lack of sight, they possessed a sharp wit and an uncanny ability to navigate the world around them. They orchestrated elaborate practical jokes daily, relishing in the townspeople’s reactions.

Yesterday, Al and Bert made an unusual purchase: a driverless car. They had saved up for months, and now their latest scheme was about to unfold. The sleek, shiny vehicle arrived at their doorstep, and the two friends couldn’t contain their excitement.

“This is going to be legendary!” Al exclaimed, his face lighting up.

Bert nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s give Havenbrook a show they won’t forget.”

That morning, Al and Bert put on a show. They dressed in a deliberately disheveled manner, with their clothes inside out and their hair tousled. They staggered down the street, feigning confusion and disorientation. The townspeople looked on in bewilderment as the two blind men stumbled around, bumping into things and seeking directions.

“Excuse me, can you help us? We seem to have lost our way,” Bert asked a passerby, his voice trembling with fake desperation.

The kind-hearted woman pointed them in the right direction, her face filled with concern. Al and Bert thanked her profusely before stumbling off in the opposite direction, leaving the woman and the other townspeople in a state of amused bewilderment.

Their antics continued throughout the day, with Al and Bert putting on an Oscar-worthy performance. They wandered into shops, interrupted conversations, and generally caused chaos wherever they went. Each time someone offered help, the duo responded with exaggerated confusion, leaving the townspeople scratching their heads and bursting into laughter at the same time.

By midday, they decided it was time to unveil the pièce de résistance. Al and Bert climbed into their driverless car, pretending to argue about who should take the wheel.

“You drive, Al! I can’t see a thing!” Bert insisted, his voice rising in mock panic.

“Neither can I, you fool! We’re both blind!” Al shot back, throwing his hands up in frustration.

The car, programmed to respond to voice commands, smoothly pulled out of the driveway and began its route through town. The sight of two blind men driving a car sent shockwaves through Havenbrook. People gawked, some laughed, and others chased after the vehicle, shouting warnings and pleas for them to stop, adding to the chaotic and humorous scene.

Inside the car, Al and Bert were beside themselves with laughter. They marveled at the chaos unfolding outside, their faces aching from so much smiling.

“Look at them! They think we’re driving!” Al gasped, clutching his sides.

Bert nodded, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. “Best prank ever!”

The car continued its journey, obediently following its pre-programmed path. Realizing they got duped again, the townspeople couldn’t help but chuckle at the elaborate ruse. Al and Bert’s reputation as the town’s resident tricksters became cemented even further.

As the day drew close, the car returned to their home, and the two friends climbed out, exhausted but exhilarated. They high-fived each other, basking in the success of their latest prank.

“Well, Bert, we’ve done it again,” Al said, a satisfied smile on his face.

Bert nodded in agreement. “Indeed we have, Al. Indeed we have.”

In the days that followed, the story of the blind men and their driverless car became the stuff of legend in Havenbrook. Al and Bert continued their daily pranks, always finding new ways to keep the townspeople on their toes. And though their sightless eyes never saw the results of their efforts, their hearts were full of the joy and laughter they brought to their beloved town.

Political Mission Set In Fictional future Yet Sparks Of Reality Shines Through!

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A Story By Benjamin H Groff© Groff Media Copyright 2024©

The tides of change swept through every street, home, and heart in the nation’s heart. It was an era marked by uncertainty and tension as a rising conservative movement began to reshape the very fabric of society. The once-balanced scales of politics now tipped heavily in favor of those who believed in tradition, order, and a return to what they called “the good old days.”

~
Emma Caldwell, a liberal activist and journalist, sat in her small apartment, the glow of her laptop illuminating her worried face. She had spent years fighting for progress—campaigning for equal rights, environmental protection, and social justice. But now, every headline seemed to bring another blow to the causes she held dear, intensifying the urgency of her mission.

~


The latest news was the most disturbing yet: a proposed amendment to the constitution that would severely restrict freedom of speech and assembly, effectively silencing dissent and opposition. Emma’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed out an article, her words mixing passion and desperation. She knew that getting the truth out was more important than ever.


Across town, in a grand office overlooking the city, Senator Marcus Reid, a leading figure in the conservative movement, reviewed the day’s agenda. He believed sincerely in his cause, convinced the country had lost its way in a maze of liberal policies and needed to return to its core values. To him, the changes were necessary, even if they were painful.


As the days passed, protests erupted across the nation. Streets filled with a sea of faces—young and old, united by a shared fear of losing their rights. Emma was among them, her camera capturing the raw emotions of the crowd. She interviewed people from all walks of life: the single mother worried about her children’s future, the college student anxious about the loss of academic freedom, the elderly couple who had fought for civil rights decades ago and now saw history repeating itself.


Despite the growing unrest, the conservative agenda pushed forward relentlessly. The lawmakers passed laws at a dizzying pace, each chipping away at the freedoms many had taken for granted. These laws included [specific laws], which directly affected [specific groups of people]. The country seemed to be spiraling into a new era of authoritarianism, and the hope that once burned brightly in the hearts of liberals began to dim.


Emma found herself at a crossroads. Her work was censored, and her voice was stifled by the very government she had once trusted to protect her freedoms. But she refused to give up. Gathering a small group of like-minded individuals, she formed an underground network dedicated to preserving and disseminating information. Their determination was a silent but powerful force, inspiring others with their unwavering resolve.


Senator Reid, now one of the most powerful men in the country, began to sense the growing resistance. He dismissed it at first, confident that his vision was the right path. However, as the underground movement gained momentum, Senator Reid realized that silencing dissent was more complex than passing laws. The human spirit, he discovered, was not so quickly subdued.
One evening, Emma received a message from an anonymous source—a high-ranking government official who had grown disillusioned with the conservative regime. The source provided her with classified documents detailing the administration’s plans to tighten their grip on power further.

These documents revealed [specific details], a dangerous revelation, but Emma knew it was the spark needed to ignite a more significant movement.


She leaked the documents to the public with the help of her network. The revelations shook the country, and the streets again filled with protesters. This time, their numbers were more significant, and their resolve was more robust, demonstrating the potential impact of collective action. The conservative government, facing unprecedented pressure, began to falter.


Senator Reid watched as the country he had tried to reshape slipped from his grasp. He had underestimated the people’s power and ability to unite and fight for their rights. As the conservative movement began to crumble, a new era of political awakening dawned.


Emma stood on the capitol’s steps, her camera in hand, capturing the momentous events unfolding before her. She knew the battle was far from over, but she felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. The changing times had tested the nation’s spirit, but in the end, its people’s resilience and determination prevailed.

Enlightenment: Unveiling the True Origins of the Bible for a United Future

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In the year 2542, humanity had reached an age of enlightenment, where technology and knowledge had advanced to levels previously unimaginable.

Amidst the bustling metropolis of Neo-Tokyo, two men stood apart from the crowd, their expressions grave and determined. They were Dr. Elias Hartman, a renowned historian, and Kael Renwick, a brilliant physicist.

Their mission was as crucial as it was unprecedented: they had to travel back to the early 21st century to avert a catastrophe, a global war rooted in a millennia-old misunderstanding of religious texts that threatened to wipe out the progress of the enlightened age.
Elias and Kael had spent years researching the origins of religious texts, particularly the Bible.

Their findings were both groundbreaking and alarming. The Bible, revered by billions, was not a divine prophecy but a collection of embellished reports from historians of long ago.

These historians, lacking a comprehensive understanding and accurate recording methods, had chronicled events that occurred tens of thousands of years prior. Over time, their writings got misinterpreted and deified, leading humanity astray.

The duo stepped into the time portal, their hearts heavy with the weight of their mission. They emerged in the year 2024, a time when religious fervor was still potent, and the world was on the brink of environmental and societal collapse. The air was thick with pollution, and the political climate was rife with tension and division.

Their first destination was a conference on religious studies in New York City. With his scholarly demeanor, Elias took the stage amidst curious and skeptical academics.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative, “I come from a future where we have uncovered the true origins of the Bible. It is not a prophecy or a divine mandate but a series of embellished reports from ancient historians who chronicled events inaccurately. These events occurred thousands of years ago and have no bearing on our future.”

The audience was stunned into silence, then erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and anger. Kael stepped forward, his presence commanding and reassuring.

“We understand this is difficult to accept,” Kael said, “but we have irrefutable evidence. The misinterpretations of these texts have led humanity down a dangerous path. If we do not correct our course, we will self-destruct.”

They presented their evidence: ancient manuscripts, carbon-dated artifacts, and advanced simulations showing the actual timeline of historical events. These artifacts and simulations, based on the latest scientific methods and technologies of the 26th century, provided a clear and irrefutable picture of the true origins of the Bible, shifting the room’s atmosphere from hostility to curiosity.

As their journey continued, Elias and Kael faced fierce opposition from religious leaders and institutions that saw their revelations as threatening. They were branded heretics and faced numerous attempts to discredit their work, including public denouncements, smear campaigns, and even physical threats. However, they also found allies in unexpected places—scientists, open-minded theologians, and everyday people who saw the truth in their words.

In a small town in the Midwest, they met Sarah, a young pastor who had long questioned the traditional interpretations of the Bible. She invited them to speak to her congregation, a modest group yearning for answers in an uncertain world.

Elias spoke passionately,

“The Bible’s true value lies in its moral and ethical teachings, not in its historical accuracy. We must embrace its wisdom while understanding that it is not a roadmap for our future.”

Kael added,

“Science and spirituality can coexist. We must use our knowledge to heal our planet and unite as a species, not divide ourselves based on ancient misunderstandings.”

Slowly but surely, their message began to spread. More people started questioning long-held beliefs, seeking knowledge and understanding over blind faith.

Grassroots movements for environmental preservation, social justice, and scientific advancement gained momentum.

Their journey was arduous, filled with moments of despair and hope. But Elias and Kael knew that the future depended on their success. As they stood on the steps of the United Nations, addressing the world for the first time, they felt a sense of destiny.

“Our future was not recorded or written in ancient texts,”

Elias declared.

“It is shaped by our actions today. Let us forge a path of understanding, compassion, and progress.”

Kael concluded,

“We have the power to change our destiny. Let us choose wisely and ensure a future where humanity thrives in sinc with our planet and one another.”

The world watched, listened, and began to change. The seeds of enlightenment they planted grew into a global movement, steering humanity away from the brink of disaster and towards a brighter, more united future. Elias and Kael fulfilled their mission, not by erasing the past but by illuminating the truth and guiding humanity toward a new dawn.

“A Second Chance: How a Scruffy Terrier Saved a Man From Despair”

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Born in a county of less than 12,000 people in the southwest part of the state, Jason grew up in the shadow of his grandfather’s church. Papa Preacher, as he was known, was a fire and brimstone verse-thrower who would have been at home in the 1870s. He led the county revivals in a Save Your Soul from Satan telethon of services every Spring and Fall. Everyone showed up, or people’s names were trashed in the community. 

Jason had heard since the time he could walk how homosexuals would be sent straight to the pits of Hell, with the gnashing of teeth, torture the likes never seen, and burning forever more. From birth, he was scared to believe everything his grandfather said was true.

When Jason began to get older and experienced puberty, his reactions to life differed from those of other teenage boys. His attraction to girls was nonexistent. He had no desire to look at a girl in a way that would be sexual. He had many girls who were friends, but he never wanted to date one or have any relationship other than friendship with any of them. However, when it came to his male friends and older classmates, that was a different story—one he didn’t understand. Jason had never known a person who was gay. He had never been around any books, magazines, or pamphlets that contained gay content. Nor had Jason watched any movies concerning gays. The only thing he knew about gays or the LGBTQI+ Community was that they slept with the same sex and were going to Hell forever! 

Now, he was having intense feelings for other young men, and it was showing. In gym class, he began showing up late or not going at all to avoid going to the locker room. He got roughed up when showering once when he got an erection, and he didn’t mean to. He thought it was difficult enough just trying to hide his excitement walking through the hallways between classes. At least he could use his school books to cover up any problems that could arise. 

What Jason couldn’t cover up was the summer vacation when a foreign exchange student from Germany was staying with a local family, and he was discovered by the local police necking and nearly nude while parked in Jason’s four-wheel drive. They were both in college and of legal age to make their own decisions, but the local police ensured Jason’s grandfather heard about it. The officer then went to the local coffee shop and told the local crowd about it, and soon, the whole town was talking. The foreign exchange student didn’t understand what the big deal was after all, to him, it was well-accepted where he came from, and this upset was so uncalled for. But for Jason, it was the end of his life as he knew it. And, he began to shut down. He was withdrawing and ending communications with everyone. He holed up at home for weeks, sleeping nearly all the time. Then, he began staying awake for days at a time. Finally, he had established a plan to say goodbye. 

Jason sat in his dimly lit living room, the world’s weight pressing down on him. The gun in his hand felt heavy, not just physically but emotionally. His eyes, red from hours of crying, stared at the floor. The only sound was the steady ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner, a reminder of the seconds slipping away.

He had tried an hour earlier. As he pulled the trigger, his body betrayed him, flinching just enough to send the bullet harmlessly through the open window. He had cursed himself for his cowardice, not knowing that his hesitation had saved a life outside. In the quiet street beyond, a small dog had narrowly missed getting hit, the sound of the shot startling it but not injuring it.

Now, Jason sat there, lost in his thoughts. He had tried to change, to conform to the expectations of his family, church, and society. But he couldn’t change who he was. The rejection, the whispers, the outright hostility—they had all taken their toll. He felt alone, unloved, and hopeless.

Unbeknownst to Jason, the small dog he had unknowingly spared was wandering through the neighborhood. The dog, a scruffy terrier mix with a keen sense of empathy, was drawn to the house. Jason left the door slightly ajar, leaving it open in desperation and distraction. The dog slipped inside, its little paws padding softly on the wooden floor.

Jason didn’t notice the dog at first. He, too, was wrapped up in his sorrow, the cold metal of the gun pressed against his temple. It wasn’t until he felt a soft nudge against his leg that he looked down. Sitting in front of him was the scruffy terrier, its eyes wide and filled with a kind of unconditional love that Jason had never experienced before.

The dog wagged its tail, its eyes never leaving Jason’s. It was as if the dog understood his pain and wanted to offer comfort. Jason lowered the gun, his hand trembling. He reached out hesitantly, and the dog nuzzled his hand, licking his fingers gently.

Tears welled up in Jason’s eyes. He hadn’t felt such warmth in so long. The dog climbed into his lap, curling up as if it was fate to find him in his darkest moment. Jason hugged the dog tightly, sobbing into its fur. The presence of the small, warm creature gave him a glimmer of hope, a reason to hold on.

Hours went by as Jason sat there with the dog in his arms. The sun began to rise, casting a gentle glow through the windows. The new day felt like a second chance, a new beginning. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew he couldn’t give up.

The dog had saved him in more ways than one. It had given him a reason to keep going, a reminder that love and hope could come from the most unexpected places. Jason decided to name the dog Chance for the second chance it had given him. They would face whatever came next, knowing they had each other together.

In the following days, Jason began to reach out for help, reconnecting with supportive friends and finding solace in a community that accepted him for who he was. And through it all, Chance was by his side, a loyal companion who had come into his life when he needed it most. The love and companionship of his furry friend reminded him daily that he was worthy of love and happiness, just as he was.

That evening, Jason turned his television off, the only channel he had been told he could watch and remain a good Christian and child of God. While flipping to another TV station, he came across a public service announcement about PFLAG and went to their website out of curiosity to learn more. It was there that Jason heard about the Trevor Project and The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender National Hotline. He reached out for direction and soon became part of the most prominent family he knew. And he grew to be the happiest he ever had in life. Today – Jason isn’t going through Hell on Earth trying to stay out of a place many people question. And he wakes up with a rainbow in his life every day!

Solemn Reflections: Memorial Day and the Spirit of Sacrifice

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As the sun rose over the small town of Oakwood, its warm rays illuminated the rows of white headstones in the Oakwood Cemetery. The city, steeped in a rich history of honoring fallen soldiers, had always observed Memorial Day with solemn pride. This day, originally known as Decoration Day, was established after the Civil War to commemorate the Union and Confederate soldiers who died in the war. It has since evolved to honor all Americans who have died in military service.

Sarah Thompson stood at the cemetery’s gate, holding a bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers. She was in her late thirties, her eyes reflecting sorrow and strength. Visiting the cemetery was her yearly ritual—a pilgrimage to visit the grave of her brother, Daniel, who had died in Afghanistan a decade ago.

As Sarah walked along the gravel path, she remembered the day they received the news. It had been a bright summer afternoon, much like today. Daniel had always been a source of light and joy in their family, with his infectious laughter and boundless energy. The knock on the door that day had shattered their world.

Sarah reached Daniel’s grave and knelt, gently placing the flowers in front of the headstone. She traced her fingers over his name etched in the cold stone and whispered a prayer. Memories flooded back—playing tag in the backyard, late-night talks about their dreams, and the tearful goodbye when he left for his final deployment.

The cemetery, a place of collective grief and remembrance, began to fill with others who had come to pay their respects. Families, friends, and fellow veterans moved among the graves, their shared sorrow palpable in the air. Some walked in silence, their thoughts a private tribute, while others shared stories, their voices a collective echo of the lives lost.

A familiar voice broke Sarah’s reverie. “Hey, Sarah.”

She turned to see Tom, one of Daniel’s best friends from high school, standing nearby. He held a small American flag, which he placed at the base of the headstone. Tom had served alongside Daniel and had been with him during his last moments.

“It’s good to see you, Tom,” Sarah said, her voice soft.

Tom nodded, his eyes filled with shared grief. “I come here every year. Feels like the least I can do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, their hearts heavy with the weight of their loss. Each lost in their thoughts, memories of Daniel flooding their minds. Then Tom began to speak, his voice steady but emotional, his words a testament to the bravery and selflessness of their fallen friend. ‘Daniel was the bravest person I knew,’ he said, his voice breaking with emotion. ‘He always put others before himself. Even in the end, he worried more about us than his safety.’

Sarah smiled through her tears. “That sounds like him.”

The morning wore on, and more people arrived, each carrying their own memories and gratitude. A group of children from the local school, accompanied by their teachers, placed flags on the graves of all the fallen soldiers, a symbol of their respect and understanding of the sacrifices made. The town’s mayor gave a short speech, his words echoing with the collective gratitude and remembrance of the community. A local choir sang ‘America the Beautiful,’ their voices a poignant reminder of the unity and strength that comes from shared values. The collective remembrance was a powerful testament to the sacrifices made by so many.

As the ceremony ended, Sarah and Tom lingered by Daniel’s grave a little longer. They shared stories, laughed, and cried, finding comfort in each other’s company.

“Thank you for being here,” Sarah said as they prepared to leave.

“Always,” Tom replied. “He was my brother, too.”

They returned to the cemetery gate together, the sun now high in the sky. As Sarah looked back one last time at the sea of white headstones, she felt a sense of peace. Memorial Day was not just about remembering the fallen; it was about celebrating their lives and the values they stood for.

Driving home, Sarah contemplated the significance of this day and how she would pass on its importance to her children. She understood that as long as they remembered, Daniel’s spirit would continue to live on. Every Memorial Day, she would return to this hallowed ground, ensuring that the memory of her brother and all those who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country would never fade.

In checking references part of this story may include referencese similar to others found on the internet. The simularities are incidential and are not included intentional. You can find more these simularities RE: New York. Memorial Day. Monument. Dead Soldier. Wheelchair. Handicapped Boy. | Didier Ruef | Photography. https://www.didierruef.com/gallery-image/Aura/G0000Is39GN2Av9w/I0000aHlCvWVZLNc/C0000EU0LcXmMzWo/ 

The Paradox of Charlie North

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The man whose loving heart brought conflict and rift with unexpected rewards he showered on others.

Charlie North was a familiar figure in the small town of Millbrook, known for his heart as expansive as the sky. He would readily abandon his own tasks to assist a neighbor with a leaky roof or chauffeur an elderly friend to a medical appointment. His acts of kindness and warmth were unparalleled, and everyone who crossed paths with Charlie held a special place for him in their hearts.

Yet, Charlie’s well-intentioned nature had a flip side that often led to discord: he was overbearing. His eagerness to assist frequently transformed into a forceful insistence that his approach was superior, and his constant involvement in others’ lives often left them feeling suffocated. This dichotomy of love and overbearingness earned him a mixed reputation.

One sunny morning, Charlie decided to help Mrs. Henderson with her garden. The widow was grateful for the help but soon became overwhelmed by Charlie’s detailed plans and strict schedules. He dictated the type of flowers to plant, the precise soil mixture, and the exact watering schedule. Mrs. Henderson, who enjoyed gardening as a leisurely and personal hobby, felt her joy drained by Charlie’s micromanagement.

“I appreciate your help, Charlie, but I think I’d like to do some of this on my own,”

Mrs. Henderson said, trying to sound polite.

Charlie was taken aback. He wanted to help, but he needed help to see how his thorough plans were anything but beneficial.

“But, Mrs. Henderson, if we don’t follow the schedule, the flowers won’t thrive as they should,”

he insisted.

As the weeks went by, similar incidents unfolded. At the community bake sale, Charlie’s meticulous organization turned into a rigid control. Initially, the townsfolk appreciated his dedication, but soon they felt stifled and unappreciated. The once vibrant community events started to lose their charm, replaced by a silent resentment towards Charlie’s overbearing ways.

One evening, as Charlie sat on his porch, his lifelong friend, Tom, joined him. Tom was one of the few people who could speak candidly to Charlie.

“Charlie, I’ve known you forever,” Tom began gently. “You’ve got a heart of gold, but sometimes you don’t realize how you come across to others.”

Charlie frowned, puzzled. “I just want to help, Tom. I want everything to be perfect for everyone.”

“I know you do, and that’s what makes you so special,”

Tom said, choosing his words carefully.

“But people need space to make their own choices, even if things don’t turn out perfectly.”

Determined to change, Charlie began to pull back. He continued to offer his help, but he consciously tried to listen more and dictate less. Charlie volunteered at the next community event but let others take the lead. He bit his tongue when things didn’t go as he would have planned, learning to appreciate the different ways people approached problems.

It was a difficult adjustment for Charlie, and he often felt the urge to step in and take control. But slowly, he noticed a difference. Mrs. Henderson’s garden flourished in its way; it was not perfect, but vibrant and full of life. The bake sale was a chaotic success, filled with laughter and camaraderie. People began to welcome Charlie’s presence again without the undercurrent of tension that had once accompanied his help.

Over time, Charlie found a balance. He channeled his love and generosity in ways that empowered others rather than overshadowing them. He was still the same Charlie North—big-hearted and always ready to lend a hand—but had learned to temper his overbearing nature. This transformation made him not only loved but truly appreciated, a testament to the power of self-awareness and the enduring strength of a loving soul.

That night, Charlie lay awake, wrestling with Tom’s words. He reflected on the times his help had been more of a hindrance, the faces of his friends and neighbors flashing through his mind—grateful at first but then strained and unhappy.

And so, Charlie’s story became one of growth and redemption, a testament to the power of self-awareness and the enduring strength of a loving soul.

Riverton Police: A Night in the Life of Detectives Jake and Sam

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The city of Riverton never slept, nor did Detectives Jake Harris and Sam O’Reilly. Partners for over a decade roamed the nocturnal streets with the kind of synergy only best friends could muster. Their squad car, an unremarkable blue-and-white cruiser, was a beacon of hope for some and a symbol of fear for others.

Jake, with his gruff exterior and piercing blue eyes, was the kind of cop who could read a crime scene like a book. Sam, a lean figure with a quick wit and a knack for defusing tense situations, complemented Jake perfectly. Together, they led the department in felony arrests, arriving at calls faster than anyone else and building relationships with the community that others could only dream of.

One brisk autumn night, their radio crackled to life with a call that made their hearts race: an armed robbery in progress at the 24-hour diner on 5th and Maple. Without a word, Jake hit the lights and sirens, and they sped through the dimly lit streets. They arrived in just under three minutes, a record even for them.

The diner was eerily quiet as they approached, save for the distant hum of neon lights. Inside, a masked man brandished a gun, demanding cash from the terrified cashier. Jake motioned for Sam to flank the back entrance while he took the front.

Jake entered slowly, his voice calm but authoritative. ––––

“Riverton PD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up.”

The gunman whipped around, eyes wide with panic.

“Stay back! I’ll shoot!”

From the rear, Sam’s voice cut through the tension.

“No, you won’t. You don’t want to hurt anyone. Put the gun down, and we can talk.”

The gunman’s grip on the weapon faltered. In that split second, Jake lunged forward, disarming him with a swift, practiced motion. Sam was at his side instantly, cuffing the man and guiding him to the squad car.

As they processed the scene, the cashier, a young woman named Maria, approached them with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come.”

Jake gave her a reassuring nod. “Just doing our job, ma’am.”

The rest of the night was a blur of paperwork and patrols. But their most memorable interaction came just before dawn. While cruising through a quieter part of town, they spotted a boy sitting alone on a bench, clutching a backpack to his chest. They pulled over, and Sam approached him gently.

“Hey there, buddy. Everything alright?”

The boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten, looked up with tear-streaked cheeks.

“I ran away from home. My parents are always fighting.”

Sam sat next to him, listening with the patience of a father and says –––

“I get it, kid. Sometimes, home can be tough. But running away won’t solve anything. Let’s get you back home and see if we can help sort things out.”

Jake contacted the boy’s parents while Sam spoke with him. The sun was peeking over the horizon when they returned the boy home. Now more worried than angry, the parents hugged their son tightly and thanked the officers.

As they drove back to the station, Jake glanced over at Sam, sighs then says –––

“Another night, another set of stories, huh?”

Sam chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

In Riverton, one could become a legend in the shadows, and for Jake and Sam, every night was another chance to protect and serve, forging connections and fighting crime in ways that others could only admire.

Verdantia: The Rainbow City and the Festival of Lumina

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Once upon a time, in a small, unassuming town named Verdantia, an extraordinary phenomenon brought magic to the lives of its residents. Verdantia was known for its picturesque streets lined with red-brick buildings and verdant trees, but what truly set it apart was its ability to produce the most stunning rainbows anyone had ever seen.

One late afternoon, after a sudden downpour, the clouds parted, and the sun cast its golden rays across the wet streets. As the townsfolk went about their business, a magnificent rainbow began to form, arching over the town’s central square. It wasn’t just any rainbow; it was a double rainbow, with vibrant colors so vivid they seemed almost tangible.

The people of Verdantia, who had grown accustomed to the beauty of rainbows, stopped in their tracks, mesmerized by the sight. The rainbow appeared to touch down at two significant landmarks in the town—the spire of the old church and the ancient oak tree standing proudly at the intersection of Main Street and Elm.

As legend had it, Verdantia was a place where rainbows were believed to be portals to realms of wonder and enchantment. The townspeople knew this was no ordinary occurrence. The elders of the town, keepers of its history and secrets, gathered quickly. They had long awaited the appearance of such a rainbow, a sign foretold in their lore that marked the beginning of a special event known as the Festival of Lumina.

The Festival of Lumina was a rare celebration that took place once every hundred years, marked by a rainbow so grand that it stretched across the sky, connecting the past with the future, the ordinary with the extraordinary. This festival was a time when the boundaries between the human world and the world of magic blurred, allowing dreams and reality to intertwine.

As the double rainbow shimmered, a soft, melodic hum filled the air. Children giggled with delight, and adults felt a warm, nostalgic pull at their hearts. The air around the rainbow seemed to sparkle, and for a moment, time itself felt as if it had slowed down. From the base of the rainbow at the church, a figure emerged—a guardian of the ancient lore, known as Seraphina, the Keeper of Light.

Seraphina, with her radiant presence and flowing silver robes, held out a staff that glowed with the colors of the rainbow. She spoke in a voice that resonated like the soft chime of bells, “People of Verdantia, the time has come to celebrate the Festival of Lumina. Today, the veil between worlds is thin, and the magic of the rainbow is at your command.”

The town erupted in joyous celebration. Musicians played enchanting melodies, artisans displayed their finest crafts, and bakers offered sweet treats that seemed to shimmer with a magical glaze. Children ran around, chasing the elusive ends of the rainbow, hoping to find hidden treasures and secret wonders.

As evening fell, the rainbow’s glow intensified, casting a luminous light over Verdantia. The townspeople gathered under the ancient oak tree, where Seraphina led a ritual to honor the rainbow and its magic. She spoke of unity, hope, and the power of dreams, encouraging everyone to embrace the wonder within their hearts.

The Festival of Lumina continued through the night, with stories of old being shared around bonfires, and dances that seemed to weave through the very fabric of the rainbow’s light. As dawn approached, the double rainbow slowly faded, but the magic lingered in the hearts of the people.

Verdantia, forever touched by the beauty and enchantment of the rainbow, became a place where dreams were cherished, and the magic of the Festival of Lumina was remembered and celebrated in smaller ways every day. The rainbow city, as it came to be known, stood as a beacon of hope, joy, and the enduring power of wonder.

The WIndscreen Phenomenon

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Earl’s Service Station was well known in town. It had to be. It was on the corner of Broadway and Main, downtown. Everybody in the city went to get their cars serviced, and the gasoline tank filled up there; they had to; it was the only gas station in the small town. Working in a gas station, Earl or his son Skip would wash the windows of cars while they were filling up. They would still be trying to scrub the bugs off the windshield on warm summer nights, long after the gas had clicked off.

Cars that didn’t need gas would pull in, and without being asked, he would get out to work on their windshield cleaning with squeegees and sponges. It was on the house because Earl had a “full service” operation. When you bought gasoline there, anytime you stopped in, you got service. Everyone knew that you didn’t have to purchase gasoline for the service. Earl provided the work because that was the reputation of his business.

It was the 1960s, and business ran steadily through the 1970s. However, as the 1980s crept in, a truckstop up the road near the big highway had put in giant tanks that held truckloads of fuel and could undersell Earl. It was self-serve, and the drivers had to clean their windshields. They’d have to check their oil and steering fluid, but now, all that didn’t matter. 

Earl still had enough local customers and monthly charge accounts to keep his business open; repairing flat tires and selling accessories like windshield wipers, fluid, and antifreeze would keep him afloat. And it did through to the time he retired and handed the business over to his son Skip, who had been working in his father’s station since he was out of high school. 

Skip noticed changes over the years, something more than people going to the big station up the road; the cars coming into the service station didn’t have bugs on the windshield. He had watched a television program a month or two earlier and remembered hearing about the windshield phenomenon. 

It had a more scientific explanation, but Skip explained it to a group of local coffee drinkers as locals began noticing changes in their community due to the unnecessary killing of insects using insecticides that are too potent for their intended uses. The next phase would change the growth of trees in the region, which could harbor diseases that would wipe out other natural grasses and trees known to the area. 

The coffee drinkers howled insults at Skip ––– 

Skip, you are the gasoline island science professor.

Another said,  

Yeah, just like the professor on Giggi’s Island or whatever they named that old show.

The coffee drinkers had a good laugh on Skip’s behalf and left it at that. Skip went on about his business, knowing he was on to something. A few days passed, and an agent from the county’s local university agriculture extension program came into the service station for refueling. Skip introduced himself and said ––

 Hey, do you have anything to do with bugs where you work?

The agent said –––

I do. I am responsible for a survey we do every Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. We have traps about twenty-five miles outside town and collect and count insects. See their type, how many, where they came from, and if they are locals or travelers. Why do you ask?

Skip replied –––

Windshields. There are hardly any bugs on windshields these days. When I was growing up, it took forever to scrub them off; now, there are hardly any. 

The Agent replied –––

It is because of insecticides. The bugs are getting killed off in masses, and they are not coming back. When they do, it kills everything down the line and up the line. It just goes on and on! 

The agent’s words hit Skip like a ton of bricks. The number of insects was plummeting drastically, and it was a catastrophe in the making. Without insects, entire food chains would collapse. No crops would get pollinated, leading to a scarcity of food for birds, amphibians, reptiles, and even us. The ripple effect was clear-as the frogs die off, the animals that feed on them would also perish, leading to a devastating impact on the entire ecosystem.

Skip said,

WOW! Such a chain of events is indeed a catastrophe; no one knows about it because all attention is focused on global warming.

The agent told Skip,

Well, only some of the attention. We are trying to educate farmers and homeowners living in rural areas about how to use insecticides and pleading with people not to kill off bee colonies. Plus, quit killing insects. We need them, ants and all, to survive. Remember, the insects will die off with global warming affecting them too; they can’t live where their habitat is changing and are no longer welcoming to their living conditions. It isn’t just the insecticides that we are dealing with. Some areas are turning into deserts; others are seeing floods, and others are experiencing storms like never before. These extreme weather events are all linked to global warming, which is also contributing to the decline of insects.

Skip told the agent that he had tried explaining the issue to his buddies at the coffee shop; however, they didn’t think he knew what he was talking about. The agent said you were right and good for you! I am interviewing with the local media. Tell your friends to watch for it this weekend.

On Sunday morning, Skip stopped at the local cafe for coffee with the crew. As he walked in, everyone began cheering. 

“There’s the man” There’s Mr Smarts!”

It wasn’t until Skip sat down that he learned that the Agriculture Agent had referred to him in the interview as what an alert citizen was representative of; he had noticed the changes in his environment and said something.

An ‘alert citizen’ is someone who is observant and proactive in reporting changes in their environment, like Skip. Something so great caused the local agency to alert farmers to stop using all level 1 and 2 pesticides.

At least until the Extension Service looked into the lack of insects in the region. The news article then explained the importance of insects to the livelihood of all living creatures, just as the agent and Skip had talked about.

Learn more about the windscreen phenomenon visit here!

Fred and Matilda

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Fred and Matilda had been retired for over ten years. They had passed their silver years and were entering their golden years. Both had begun to experience forgetfulness, which was not severe but inconvenient. Fred would forget his wallet when he left home to go to town, or Matilda would forget to put extra tissues in her purse. She needed them to keep her nose wiped due to spring’s seasonal allergy season.

Today, Fred and Matilda left their modest bungalow midcentury home on East Kiowa Street in Corprol, Oklahoma. They traveled thirty miles to see the couple’s son nearby. Due to Fred’s’ safe’ driving, the drive should take just over fifty minutes. He never exceeded fifty miles an hour and usually kept their ’53 Chevrolet Coup topped at 45 miles per hour. Matilda was known for always talking to Fred when he was driving. She never shut up.

Matilda would say to him –––

“Fred, ease to the left, honey; now go back to the right and watch it. Oh no—a car is coming! Now, someone is behind us. Wait, a car is approaching us; I think the guy behind us will pass us.“

Fred and Matilda’s son, Bill, looked at the clock at 1:00 PM. His parents should have been at his place at 11:00 AM. He thought they stopped by their old farm and got lost in time, recalling days when they had lived in the farming area for more than forty years, and everyone knew them. Even so, the people from those days mainly had moved on just as they had. So, it was unusual to find a two-hour distraction without calling him to let him know they would be delayed.

Matilda, a constant verbal navigational bird, was a familiar presence to Fred. Her chatter, a constant companion during their drives, was a source of comfort to him. He had grown accustomed to her voice, finding solace in the sound. Fred’s driving was noticeably worse when she wasn’t there, a testament to her voice’s role in his life.

At 3:00 PM, Bill was beside himself. Where were Fred and Matilda? He called their home to make sure they had not decided to go back home and make the trip another day; the phone just rang and rang. He called Fred’s and Matilda’s cell phones, but no one answered. Bill decided it was time to notify authorities.

Bill called the Ninekakh Police Department, and Officer Nadine Smith answered. Nadine had a strong ‘Okie” accent and a sweet demeanor.

“Ninekakh Police Department, Officer Smith, Who can I help today?”

Bill was stunned by the sweetness and tone of Nadine’s voice and how comfortable she made him feel just by answering the call he had placed. Bill said –––

“Hi, my name is Bill Roth. My parents, Fred and Matilda Roth, are late getting to my home outside Singer; they were driving here from Corprol.”

Knowing Bill was concerned and having met the Roths several times, Nadine knew they were not the type to disappear carelessly. Nadine asked –––

“Bill, honey, how old are your parents? Do you know what they are driving, and do you have any identification to help find them? And what were they doing today?”

Bill was quick to answer –––

My parents are driving a blue 53 Chevrolet Coupe two-door in their mid-70s. They were moving from Corpral to Singer to visit me today. They might have stopped by the old farm to remember old times, but I don’t know. They have never really been this late. Fred always wears grey pants, a white shirt, and a baseball cap, and Matilda usually wears a dress, blue or gray, that extends below the knee, with flat shoes; they both have gray hair. They quit taking photographs twenty years ago because both said it made them look like they were aging to get new pictures taken. They won’t even stand still for someone to get them in a cell phone, selfie-type picture.”

Nadine, taking a deep breath, said –––

Wow! Thank you. That is a whole lot of information, but it isn’t. I will get out and look at the highway between the two towns for them and any side roads. Also, I’ll put this out on the radio for other departments to be on the lookout for. Meanwhile, I suggest you stay where you are if they arrive at your place or call you.

Bill was a nervous wreck. Thoughts raced through his mind of where they could be, what could have happened, and then who could have taken them or could they have been robbed. They could have been running off the road by another driver in a road rage incident. Bill remembered the time he got lost hiking with friends and how much worry it brought his parents. He thought to himself, ‘Payback is hell!’ Exhausted from thinking, Bill yells out loud –

“At least they knew where to start looking for me. I was out hiking, and they had a starting point. Hell, I don’t have a clue where these two old farts are!”

As Nadine was patrolling from the Ninekah Sheriff’s Department heading south toward Corprol, she saw a roadside melon and vegetable sales stand, the type set up to sell from the back of an old truck. She pulled over and talked to the farmer who was selling his goods and asked if he had seen anyone matching the description of Fred and Matilda. 

“Yep, I saw them! They were two feisty people. For their age, I was surprised. 

Nadine surprised that her luck had paid off, asked the farmer what he meant, and he replied –––

“Well, this young guy was here too, and he had one of those cell phones out taking pictures of him and his girlfriend; it could have been his boyfriend. I couldn’t tell by looking. Anyway, he got a picture of the two older people and told them he hoped he and his sweety could be just like them when they got to be antique. And that is when all hell broke loose. The older adults didn’t want those pictures going anywhere. The young couple took off, and the others left behind them. I never saw two older adults driving like that. They were laying rubber.

Nadine called Bill and told him what the farmer told her, and Bill, in a chilling voice, responded,

“Christ, it’s Christmas 2015 all over again. They did the same thing when someone took a photo of them in the background at a convenience store on Christmas Eve of 2015. We saw them again in February. The family of the people who took the photos still hasn’t seen their people. The last report anyone ever heard was that they were trying to outrun an old couple driving a Blue 53 Chevy Coupe.”

Officer Nadine Smith ––– Adam 851 Clear from report at 1700 hours, 15 miles south of Singer, on Highway 41, clear.  

Dispatch to Smith, Affirmative, 1700 hours, KMH 253.

Officer Smith drove to Bill’s home, where she discovered a blue 53 Chevrolet Coupe appearing to stick out of an outbuilding on the property. She went to Bill’s Door and rang the bell. When he answered, she asked if his parents had been in contact. He said they had not. 

Smith asked Bill to walk out and look at the car in the shed, which, to his surprise, was his parents’ vehicle.

How did they get past me? And where are they now?

Fred and Matilda, in their enthusiastic but forgetful state, had indeed managed to return home unnoticed. Bill and Officer Smith, both puzzled and concerned, carefully approached the shed where the car was parked. The vehicle, though covered, was the distinctive blue ’53 Chevrolet Coupe.

“Bill, stay behind me,” 

Officer Smith instructed, her hand resting on her holster just in case.

“Let’s check inside,” Bill suggested.

Together, they slowly lifted the cover off the car, revealing it entirely. The sight brought a mix of relief and confusion to Bill’s face. The vehicle looked unscathed as if a chauffeur had driven the couple from a leisurely trip.

As they peered into the car, they noticed the keys were still in the ignition, and Matilda’s purse was on the passenger seat. But there were no signs of Fred and Matilda themselves.

“Where could they have gone?“

 Bill murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Officer Smith walked around the shed, looking for any further clues. Just then, they heard a faint, familiar sound coming from the back of the house. Following the noise, they discovered Fred and Matilda sitting on a swing in the backyard, calmly chatting and sipping on lemonade.

“Dad! Mom! What on earth happened?” 

Bill exclaimed, running towards them.

Fred looked up, somewhat surprised but pleased to see his son.

“Oh, Bill, there you are! We were wondering when you’d find us.”

With a serene smile, Matilda added,

“We decided to take a little detour to the old farm, but then we thought we’d better come back home when it started getting late. We didn’t want to worry you.”

Torn between relief and frustration, Bill tried to keep his voice steady.

“Why didn’t you call me? We’ve been worried sick!”

Fred scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish.

“Well, son, we did mean to call you, but then Matilda realized she left her phone at home, and mine ran out of battery. By the time we returned, we were so tired we just sat down for a rest.”

Upon witnessing the heartfelt reunion, Officer Smith felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Roth, it’s good to see you’re both safe. You gave us quite a scare.”

Ever the apologetic, Matilda said,

“We’re sorry, dear. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We’ll be more careful next time.”

Fred nodded in agreement.

“Yes, we’ll charge the phone next time and keep it with us.”

Bill sighed deeply, his worry slowly dissipating.

“Just glad you’re both okay. Next time, please, let’s avoid any more detours.”

Fred chuckled. “Deal. How about we all go inside and have some of Matilda’s famous apple pie? It’s been a long day.”

As they walked back into the house, Bill couldn’t help but feel grateful for the small blessings—his parents were safe, and despite their forgetfulness, they still had their spirited sense of adventure. It was another reminder of how precious these moments were, even when they came with a bit of worry.

~ SHARING IN THE PRIDE ~

BenjaminLeave a comment

NewFest Pride

Kick off Pride month with a 5-day festival celebrating our community’s legacy and exciting contemporary stories
Showcasing film premieres, filmmaker Q&A’s, and social events 
May 30 – June 3, 2024

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NewFest Pride has it all — premieres of the year’s most anticipated queer films, conversations, parties and outdoor screenings! Check out the full lineup below. 

Get A Pass

Membership Plus Members + above get free Virtual Passes.


Learn more about becoming a NewFest Member 💖

LINEUP

A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO (Opening Night Film & Party)

Dir. Brian J. Smith

A compelling, lovingly-captured portrait of Fire Island as queer paradise that sees past and present blur within the iconic beach town as it celebrates its collective legacy and redefines itself for a modern era. 

Ticket includes entrance to Opening Night Party at Slate.

MY OLD ASS

Dir. Megan Park

In this fresh coming-of-age story, an 18th birthday mushroom trip brings free-spirited Elliott (Maisy Stella) face-to-face with her wisecracking 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza).

HAZE

Dir. Matthew Fifer

A young journalist returns home to investigate the unsolved deaths at an abandoned psychiatric center in this eerie, evocative psychological thriller from writer/director Matthew Fifer (CICADA)

CLOSE TO YOU

Dir. Dominic Savage

Producer and co-writer Elliot Page stars in this emotionally observant drama about returning home as yourself and finding hope in potentially rekindled relationships

FANTASMAS (Episodes 1 & 2)

Dir. Julio Torres

A delightfully wry new series from the imagination of creator, star, writer, and director Julio Torres (LOS ESPOOKYS, PROBLEMISTA)

THE QUEEN OF MY DREAMS

Dir. Fawzia Mirza

Grad student Azra feels worlds apart from her seemingly rigid mother yet uncovers their unexpected connections on a trip to Pakistan in this vibrant festival favorite (TIFF, SXSW) from writer/director Fawzia Mirza. Ticket comes with entrance to Women’s Afternoon Out pre-screening reception

SEBASTIAN

Dir. Mikko Mäkelä

A freelance writer and aspiring novelist on his way to ostensible success in London’s cultural spheres finds a different kind of exhilaration as a sex worker in this Sundance sensation.

AM I OK?

Dirs. Tig Notaro & Stephanie Allynne

Dakota Johnson stars in this uplifting comedy from co-directors Tig Notaro & Stephanie Allynne about self-discovery, life changes, and friendship. 

BLACK QUEER PRIDE SHORTS WITH VIMEO

Join NewFest & Vimeo for a celebratory short film showcase by and about Black LGBTQ+ lives, joys, and experiences.

COMING AROUND

Dir. Sandra Itäinen

A young queer woman stands at a crossroads with her devout Muslim mother in a clash between identity and tradition.

THE SUMMER WITH CARMEN

Dir. Zacharias Mavroeidis

While enjoying a day at a clothing-optional queer beach, an aspiring filmmaker and their handsome friend collaborate on a screenplay in this whimsical summer treat.

WE’RE HERE (Season 4 Finale)

Dir. Peter LoGreco

Join NewFest and HBO for an advance screening of the Season Four finale, followed by an exclusive virtual conversation with creators and cast.

TRIXIE MOTEL: DRAG ME HOME (Series Premiere)

Tune in for an advance screening + exclusive virtual Q&A as Trixie and her partner David explore and design a dream home fit for two!

TO WONG FOO, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! JULIE NEWMAR (Outdoor Screening)

Kick off NewFest’s new partnership with Universal Pictures – “Pride Summer Movie Nights at Rockefeller Center”

IN-PERSON + STREAMING
VIP All Access Pass — $185
Discount for NewFest Members

All in-person screenings and events (including Opening Night Film & Party, and Women’s Afternoon Out) and virtual screenings. Early access to theater and reserved seats. Learn how to fulfill passes here.


IN–PERSON
Individual Film Ticket – $19.50
Discount for NewFest Members
In-Person access to a single screening. Does not include A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO or Women’s Afternoon Out Tickets.

Opening Night Film + Party Ticket – $50
Discount for NewFest Members
In-Person access to the Opening Night Film A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO and the following party. 

Women’s Afternoon Out + THE QUEEN OF MY DREAMS Ticket – $30
Discount for NewFest Members
In-Person access to Women’s Afternoon Out Brunch prior to the screening of THE QUEEN OF MY DREAMS.

In-Person All Access Pass — $115
Discount for NewFest Members
Includes all in-person screenings, including Opening Night Film & Party, and Women’s Afternoon Out. Learn how to fulfill passes here.


STREAMING
Virtual Pass — $30
Discount for NewFest Members
Virtual access to select screenings. Does not include in-person Q&A’s, however there are a select number of virtual Q&A’s available. All films screening virtually are available May 30 at 12 PM EST through June 3 at 11:59 PM EST. Streaming anywhere in the United States. Individual tickets are only available for WE’RE HERE and TRIXIE MOTEL: DRAG ME HOME.

* Virtual passes and individual tickets are discounted for NewFest Members. Haven’t joined yet? Become a member today!